By Phyllis Jardine
Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.
~William James
"It's okay, all is well, drive carefully." This was the message my weary brain formulated back in the fall of 1997 when I first encountered the "man on the bridge." I'd been to meetings in the city of Halifax all day and was tired and anxious to get home to the Annapolis Valley -- a little over an hour's drive.
As I approached Mount Uniacke, the weather changed and the road became treacherous -- the first storm of the season. Frightened, I gingerly picked my way towards home. Tension rose as tractor trailers swished by and my old sedan moaned and groaned.
Gripping the wheel, I noticed my headlights outlining a lonely figure shrouded in mist on the Highway 101 overpass, just outside Hantsport -- my halfway-home mark. As if guiding me through the storm, the mysterious man slowly raised a large hand in a friendly gesture. I sounded my horn in appreciation and continued my journey safely home. Since that November day, I always looked for the man on the bridge. Faithfully, he stood there, almost motionless, his rosy-cheeked face welcoming weary travellers. And whenever our grandchildren were with us, the man gazed kindly as they waved with excitement at seeing his outstretched hand and slight grin. Others mentioned that they too had tooted to the man. People who travelled to work in the city called him their beacon on the bridge.
Then one day on the last leg of a long journey home from New Brunswick, my husband and I noticed there was no mysterious man standing on the Bog Road Bridge. Where was the large quiet figure? We missed him. No one we talked to knew what had happened to our messenger on the bridge. We didn't even know his name.
Soon a letter appeared in the daily provincial newspaper asking about Nova Scotia's gentle giant, the ambassador who welcomed all to visit his Annapolis Valley. We learned that our overpass friend's name was Freddie. And although he had been ill, Freddie planned to return to his post on the bridge, cautioning all to slow down and enjoy the ride home.
We also learned that complications at birth in 1954 had left Freddie with some challenges. In his early years he had attended a special training school in Truro, NS, but he'd returned to the Valley at the same time an overpass was being built -- just down the road from his home. A lover of trucks, Freddie would stand on the overpass bridge facing east, waving to all the truck drivers. They honked their horns in return, pleased to see a stranger's token of friendship. (A long stretch of highway and a steep incline leads to the overpass, which can be seen for at least a kilometre away.)
When the weather is balmy, Freddie, who is a keen hockey fan, can be seen wearing a colourful hockey jersey; he owns jerseys of all thirty National Hockey League teams -- many of them gifts. On stormy days he wears a bright safety vest, a gift from his hometown of Hantsport. In good weather or bad, he offers a gift to all who travel Highway 101, helping people to forget their trials and tribulations, if only for a little while.
Through the years his impromptu bit of human bonding has touched many hearts and steadied many nerves. Internationally renowned Wolfville artist, Alex Coleville painted his 1996 work titled, West Brooklyn Road, after being inspired by Freddie. It features a man on a bridge waving to a truck driver.
In no small way, Freddie's sense of neighbourliness has been an inspiration to all of us here in Nova Scotia. Waving, after all, is a gesture of goodwill. And in our fast-paced world, even the grumpiest person feels better after being greeted by a hearty wave.
Freddie has found what we all seek in life: A reason for being. Like a shepherd watching over his flock, he stands tall, guiding us home -- on the newly named Nova Scotia bridge: The Freddie Wilson Overpass.
Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.
~William James
"It's okay, all is well, drive carefully." This was the message my weary brain formulated back in the fall of 1997 when I first encountered the "man on the bridge." I'd been to meetings in the city of Halifax all day and was tired and anxious to get home to the Annapolis Valley -- a little over an hour's drive.
As I approached Mount Uniacke, the weather changed and the road became treacherous -- the first storm of the season. Frightened, I gingerly picked my way towards home. Tension rose as tractor trailers swished by and my old sedan moaned and groaned.
Gripping the wheel, I noticed my headlights outlining a lonely figure shrouded in mist on the Highway 101 overpass, just outside Hantsport -- my halfway-home mark. As if guiding me through the storm, the mysterious man slowly raised a large hand in a friendly gesture. I sounded my horn in appreciation and continued my journey safely home. Since that November day, I always looked for the man on the bridge. Faithfully, he stood there, almost motionless, his rosy-cheeked face welcoming weary travellers. And whenever our grandchildren were with us, the man gazed kindly as they waved with excitement at seeing his outstretched hand and slight grin. Others mentioned that they too had tooted to the man. People who travelled to work in the city called him their beacon on the bridge.
Then one day on the last leg of a long journey home from New Brunswick, my husband and I noticed there was no mysterious man standing on the Bog Road Bridge. Where was the large quiet figure? We missed him. No one we talked to knew what had happened to our messenger on the bridge. We didn't even know his name.
Soon a letter appeared in the daily provincial newspaper asking about Nova Scotia's gentle giant, the ambassador who welcomed all to visit his Annapolis Valley. We learned that our overpass friend's name was Freddie. And although he had been ill, Freddie planned to return to his post on the bridge, cautioning all to slow down and enjoy the ride home.
We also learned that complications at birth in 1954 had left Freddie with some challenges. In his early years he had attended a special training school in Truro, NS, but he'd returned to the Valley at the same time an overpass was being built -- just down the road from his home. A lover of trucks, Freddie would stand on the overpass bridge facing east, waving to all the truck drivers. They honked their horns in return, pleased to see a stranger's token of friendship. (A long stretch of highway and a steep incline leads to the overpass, which can be seen for at least a kilometre away.)
When the weather is balmy, Freddie, who is a keen hockey fan, can be seen wearing a colourful hockey jersey; he owns jerseys of all thirty National Hockey League teams -- many of them gifts. On stormy days he wears a bright safety vest, a gift from his hometown of Hantsport. In good weather or bad, he offers a gift to all who travel Highway 101, helping people to forget their trials and tribulations, if only for a little while.
Through the years his impromptu bit of human bonding has touched many hearts and steadied many nerves. Internationally renowned Wolfville artist, Alex Coleville painted his 1996 work titled, West Brooklyn Road, after being inspired by Freddie. It features a man on a bridge waving to a truck driver.
In no small way, Freddie's sense of neighbourliness has been an inspiration to all of us here in Nova Scotia. Waving, after all, is a gesture of goodwill. And in our fast-paced world, even the grumpiest person feels better after being greeted by a hearty wave.
Freddie has found what we all seek in life: A reason for being. Like a shepherd watching over his flock, he stands tall, guiding us home -- on the newly named Nova Scotia bridge: The Freddie Wilson Overpass.
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