Life In Clark Park

Here is a lazy man's blip, without my having thought anything out ahead of time. This is just a shot I could take any day, in the park near my house.

But today was a very mild Saturday in Autumn, less than a week before Thanksgiving Day, after the Amish farmers had left, but well before dusk. The regular users of the park are in the shot, but nothing unusual is going on. I've blipped it before in more detail, so I'll give links to go with some of the items.

At the far left is the volleyball net. The game has been played in that same spot for decades on end, but after this section of the park was refurbished, some argument began regarding the grass. The park's organizers want the grass to be left to thrive, but the volleyball mob will hear none of it. It's their park too and they play ball, right where they always have.

In front of the net is the turtle. I've never given it any thought but small children like it. I've never heard anyone discuss it as a piece of artwork, but it was already there when I came along.

Moving right you'll see a group of kids who are waging battles with foam rubber swords, axes, helmets and shields. That's been going on for several years, every weekend in good weather.

Between the thin trunks of the leaning tree, in the distance, is the monument to the Civil War hospital that once stood here.

At the center is our pride and joy, Dickens and Little Nell. No matter what hour, season, or weather there might be, the statue always belongs right where it is. Everyone loves it.

In the distance to the right of center are the low tables where chess games are usually played, but today the usual players were not there, and a few young people were playing cards instead.

In the foreground at right, by the London Plane tree, you'll see a person sittling in an office chair. The benches near the Dickens statue are the tiny domain of the semi-homeless, the non-politicized transients, the drinkers. I occasionally know one or two of them by name. The organizers in Friends of Clark Park would like it if they would disappear, but like the volleyball players they have been there for generations, right where you see them now. They trouble no one, they do not beg. Alcohol is not permitted in the park but its actual presence is so minor that there is no wish to impose a police presence for that or any other reason.

Beyond the park are houses along Baltimore Avenue, which date from around 1900. That's where the #34 trolley passes by. Get off at the corner some time. Read a book; watch the children play; punch a ball; swing a rubber axe or bring an old friend to check mate. Drink fresh-brewed coffee from the nearby cafe and share a clever thought with a smart friend, or drink whiskey from a brown bag and shed a tear all by yourself. The park changes in its haphazard way as the decades pass, and all sorts of people who live nearby will be doing what they do, just a frisbee-toss away. The park is a welcoming place.