Lock and Dam centennial, Part 3 of 3

 A few more photos from yesterday. We'll start down by the river and end with some final thoughts.

Here are a couple of the old lock itself, or its remains.

I'm an old coot -- sometimes too nostalgic for my own good. While the people up on the bank ejoyed the food and socializing, I stood alone down by the river, lost in thought. I heard steam and whistles. I saw paddlewheels and Pittman arms. I heard water pouring through the wickets. And I saw people of a hundred years ago working the locks,or families in the houses up the hill.

From time to time I imagine myself back in, say, 1946 or earlier, wondering what my parents and grandparents saw. I think about the changes in the landscape and its people since then. It's an exercise of the imagination, and it's also a recognition that as each generation passes we lose memories of how regular people lived. Some things, places and traditions we have today are worth preserving. Some aren't. I hope the younger generations make wise choices between the two.