The Definition of Squander

By Matt Lome
Reader Contributor

Fewer than two years ago, I bought a home in Sagle in the lovely suburban neighborhood located just to the south of Sandpoint’s iconic Long Bridge. One of the determining factors in my purchase was the proximity of downtown Sandpoint; a beautiful two-and-a-half-mile bike ride across the Long Bridge brought me to work. 

Every day that the weather permitted, I rode my bike to work.

No longer. 

For my neighbors and me, the recent closure of the pedestrian Long Bridge is a massive lifestyle setback. 

“How could they allow this to happen?” we wonder in disgust, looking at the photograph of cracked foundation, crumbling cement and failing trusses.  

We searched for who to blame. At the forefront is the Idaho Transportation Department. Further in the background is ourselves. 

In 2015, a structural inspection (similar to the one recently conducted that resulted in the bridge’s indefinite closure), identified several areas of concern. Furthermore, according to ITD’s reports, they performed minor inspections of the bridge every year since. 

This begs the questions: What actions were taken to preserve the bridge? Considering the “areas of concern,” what yearly maintenance program was enacted to avoid a collapse? What structural upkeep went into preserving the integrity of this beloved, historic landmark? 

The topic here is asset management. It is a fundamental pillar of economics, and an indispensable component to the success of any long-term improvement project. With careful and professional asset management, one enjoys a deserved level of prosperity. Asset management conducted with pride and attention is called good stewardship. 

Conversely, asset management that is shirked and approached with apathy and lack of vision is called squander. Allowing our beloved pedestrian Long Bridge to fall into disrepair is the textbook definition of “squander,” which is directly correlated to poverty. 

By squandering our pedestrian Long Bridge, Sandpoint has become fundamentally poorer. 

Demonstrating good stewardship is not always “sexy” and shiny. It does not make something sparkling new. It is not done for show. Rather, good stewardship is a matter of self-pride. It grows into family pride, and eventually swells into community pride.  

When the pedestrian Long Bridge was closed by ITD as a public safety hazard, I was reminded that the bridge was originally built in 1956 as a vehicular bridge designed to bear the load of car and truck traffic. In 1981, when the current vehicular bridge (that we all drive along today) was completed, the 1956 span was closed to cars, officially becoming the pedestrian Long Bridge. 

Here is a bit of math: 1956 to 2026 represents 70 years of usefulness. That’s less than one human lifetime. For comparison, here is a short list of the lifespan of other magnificent bridges across the country: the Brooklyn Bridge: 1883-present; the Manhattan Bridge: 1908-present; State Route 99, California: 1925-present; the Golden Gate Bridge: 1936-present; the Mackinac Bridge: 1957-present.

And our bridge only reaches 70 total years of usefulness? The load-bearing responsibility of Sandpoint’s 1956 Long Bridge was massively reduced in 1981, and yet the structure could not withstand the test of time. Why? Failed stewardship. 

The originators of the Long Bridge would never have imagined that an asset so precious as a two-mile bridge spanning open water would be completely squandered in 70 years’ time. Naively, they were depending on us — the future generations — to take pride in the asset, maintain it and pass it down to our descendents. Tragically, we dropped the baton. 

To our great shame, we have lost a valuable commuter passageway linking one community to another. We have laid waste to an astonishingly beautiful recreational trailway. We have tossed away a priceless, wheelchair-accessible exercise route for joggers, walkers, bikers and swimmers. We have neglected a recreational marvel virtually unmatched in beauty across the continental United States. We have squandered a treasured community landmark and a beloved gathering place.

If I sound pessimistic that the pedestrian Long Bridge will be reopened any time soon, it’s because I am. Sadly, my sinking suspicion is that the pedestrian Long Bridge might never be reopened again. 

I have worked in the field of property management for more than 30 years. My experience tells me that the depth of the deterioration revealed by the 2026 inspection is profound, indeed. More importantly, my pessimism stems from the understanding that apathy, indifference and shortsightedness are difficult ailments to overcome.  

To maintain an asset demands that one takes pride in the asset, pride in oneself and pride in the community in which the asset resides. Prideful stewardship would never have allowed the asset to have collapsed in the first place. It would have included yearly maintenance, routine patterns of upgrades and improvements, and a slow and steady process of upkeep to ensure that the asset survives into the future. ITD has demonstrated none of these qualities. 

I openly encourage (and outright beg) ITD to prove me wrong in my prediction that the pedestrian Long Bridge will not reopen any time soon, if it ever reopens again. 

If ITD were to act swiftly to repair and reopen the bridge, then this would be a major step forward in a new era of stewardship and community pride. Repairing the pedestrian Long Bridge will not be glamorous work — it will be foundational, gritty work. But it would be the work of a wealthy mindset and a prideful community. It would be a bold indication that our generation is deserving of the precious asset that we inherited, and a positive sign that we are willing to do what it takes to pass that asset forward onto generations to come. 

Matt Lome is a Sagle resident.