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I never expected to run across a Minneapolis connection in a book about poetry, but I was reading the other night from How to Read a Poem And Fall in Love with Poetry
and ran across this:"I think of a bitterly cold Minneapolis morning in January 1972, when John Berryman climbed onto the metal railing of the Washington Avenue Bridge and made a gesture as if waving before plunging into the river to his death." (p. 46, emphasis in original.)
John Berryman, I've since learned, "was a major figure in American poetry in the second half of the 20th century and often considered one of the founders of the Confessional school of poetry" (Wikipedia), the river referred to is the Mississippi, and the Washington Avenue Bridge is only about a mile downriver from the 35W bridge that infamously collapsed. It's part of a popular marathon training route, and we drive by it every time we come home from a Timberwolves game. Here's a pic of the bridge Mr. Berryman chose to throw himself off of:
Now envision that same bridge in the middle of a Minnesota winter. I can't even imagine being that depressed. And, yes, I will now be buying one of his books
, because that's just the sort of sick individual I am.
