blue skies, a community sighs
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by,
Richard Baird
forty-five minutes, perhaps longer, prior to a procession…a procession with Blake passing on…
on highway 40…he is…fire chief Sebold, mayor Walker, firemen, police officers, assembled
in various positions, in the center of the road…at the turn…a bend in the road…the turn…
in front of the flour mill, alongside the visitor’s center…traffic controlled, vehicles could
not enter…a large, gigantic, red, white, and blue American Flag…to be draped, or hung,
streaming and fluttering, moving to and fro, as the wind catches hold…underneath, Officer
Snyder will pass, time will pass, family members will pass, life will pass, police officers will
pass, eternity will pause, breathless onlookers will pause, history will pause, soon it will be
time to pause…children, blue ribbons, flags held, firetrucks, sirens, flashing lights, mr. Cruz,
John Badman, sunshine, odd noises blending into the tale, sirens again, mothers, fathers,
grandparents, young, old, strollers, blankets, sweaters, jackets, long sleeves, folding chairs,
mill workers attired in white uniforms…safety helmets, scarves, eye glasses…
Dan Whiteside, a scotsman, with bagpipes, wool as it is in his kilt…two firemen in the boom on the
alton truck, east alton’s truck a safe distance apart and parallel with a boom…stretching the flag,
a little up here, a little down there, then / the flag is ready, weeping but colors do not run…thank
for the sun…Dan Brannan on the roof of riverbender’s building…in the garden as Van Morrisson might
sing…marquette catholic high school students walking up the hill, down to positions…beside lincoln-
douglass square…breeze picking up, blowing, not howling, but steadily and mightily, near the
mississippi river…warm hearts cooling down, hearts beating, pounding with trepidation…anticipation,
minds contemplating, relating as best one can…one tries to understand…one thinks of a final journey,
a beginning for some, beginning to see, set one’s soul free…striving to capture the moment, the
movement, the present, the transformation, the end…just 33 years ago when it was set to begin…
a single helicopter races and zooms overhead, low in the sky…where birds might fly, circling like an
eagle, moving fast, then slow, where did it go…
cell phones, video cameras, digital devices, life streaming in slices…alton’s history merging with this
unexpected transition…just one week ago, a tad longer, when this world was stronger…mr. Blake
Snyder, what everyone would like for you to know…what everyone is attempting to show, your
spirit is refreshed, anew, your spirit is surrounded, your spirit is aglow…
suddenly, it is time…dozens of lights flashing on the clark bridge, quickly at the turn…lights pulsating
with a sadness, agony, with an eerie enlightenment…sirens beeping, shrill and loud, sirens with their
sounds reverberating off the flour mill…yet all else is still…spaced out, stacked tight, in twos and
threes come the motorcycles…red and blue lights…uncommon sights, blue balloons, rising slowly,
then swiftly, Danny playing on his bagpipes “amazing grace”…there is a pace…and just one face…
one after another, policemen and women…riding along, the procession six miles long…expanded
like a rubber band…silence rendered respectfully by a collective multitude…hauntingly, they keep
coming, to the turn…at the turn…then onto the river road…so much focus, so much to discern…
no sounds now, lights blinking on and off, a lone dog barking…everyone standing tall, at attention,
hats off, America’s heart and soul, in the heartland…a voice, voices yearning to be heard, offering
gestures of tranquility…more than one word…
time’s stillness is felt, while ticking on a clock and perpetual…but, but, let us say again Blake, America
is listening, watching, hearing, seeing, feeling, grieving, believing…justice is always at hand, this is
your home officer Snyder, your land...eyes glazed over, surely I am not the only individual with tears
on my cheek…
on the bridge, down below, around the turn…red police cars, black and white, gray, solid black, solid
white, unmarked, from various precincts and various counties…new York, chicago, atlanta, aurora
colorado, jerseyville, st. charles county, and alton among many others…waves and acknowledgment
form those passing by…blue skies, a community sighs…sisters and mothers, fathers and brothers…
blue lettering on police vehicles, white, yellow, black with stars, all messaged on their cars…
more sirens, then motion quietly on the turn…a third wave of sirens…minutes and seconds mean
nothing, this line of vehicles remains long…the river is calm, no one is leaving, no one is cheering,
no one is jeering…it’s like everyone is holding a collective breath, police, police, police, please know
you are loved…as in the stars far away, America loves you from here to there…
onward, onward, in this the final wave…onward to Valhalla, arriving at Blake’s grave…officer Snyder’s
spirit is soaring, the air is a little cooler, clouds have formed and tilt the angles…even nature is
breathing heavier, the procession out of sight…firemen lowering the flag, traffic once diverted, now
shifts into place…students march up the hill, settling in seats at school, so many indelible images,
minds weighted and full…three more helicopters, flying above the mighty mississippi, muddy and
brown, restless is the river…..emotions are in flight, i cannot shake this shiver…..birds landing near the
water, buzzing around the mill…..Blake’s spirit has awakened, spiritually, beyond a chill…..an alton
school bus nears the turn, headed in the opposite direction, lunch boxes empty, laughter they will
share, and they will continue to learn, and they will know why to care……blue skies, a community
sighs……
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