A small bronze shield sign affixed to an ordinary concrete bridge. I caught it out of a corner of my eye while crossing a stream on an undulating country road. Too small to read even at less than twenty miles-per-hour, I stopped the car and got out to take a look. Aged to a mottled verdigris, it boasted seven stars across the top with the bottom supported by a stylized eagle that stood out in high relief. “Built by Work Project Administration Conn.—1940,” it read.