During my years as a transplant New Yorker, I can't begin to imagine what life would have been like or be without knowing Central Park was just waiting at my beck and call. A survey study I participated in during the year 2000 about "Life as a New Yorker" revealed I had 165 days with time spent in the Park...whether an extended romp or just passing through. That's 64% of the year I wasn't away from the city traveling. Over time, there's been a lot contributing to this insatiable "Love at first sight and experience" affair.
I'll never forget my first visit to NYC or Central Park. It was a cloudy summer Sunday with several friends. We hadn't been there long when I'd finally convinced the last of them to "rush" on. I'd be fine...and safe, but knew even then I wanted to thoroughly, leisurely experience this natural wonder thinking it might be my only visit to the City and this forbidden yet inviting treasure. I had no idea I'd be living here soon, or that more than 10-years later something could still hold the magic found on that first visit.
During my early "honeymoon days" in becoming a full-fledged New Yorker, I confess much of daily life was like a non-stop tourist within my new surroundings. But something about Central Park became almost an obsession. When I couldn't be there, I found myself reading anything I could get my hands on to self-educate myself about this place which captivated me, and best summarized is like "Mother Nature's Magnet" drawing peoples negative charges to it's positive ones for the necessary survival and renewal from living in a wonderful, yet intensely stressful city.
Escape is too vague a word, but one senses it only a few steps into the Park no matter which gate you enter through, or what your motivation for coming. It's more of a friend than the faithful house pet which always needs walking or a spouse who should have 50% of a relationship. The Park is always there to genuinely welcome you just as you are, alone or together, no questions asked and to provide solace for needs whether celebratory or in hiding to escape from or reflect on realities. These unique and varied experiences allow people to justifiably develop a "My Park" mentality despite their commonly and knowingly sharing it with millions; each individual with a different cause and definition.
A favorite example of 'my/your/our' Park was on a care-free summer night passing through the Bethesda Courtyard; the sounds of Hip-Hop floating through the air from a party at nearby Loeb Boathouse. From the infectious rhythms, I found myself breaking into a "Flash Dance fool" performance around the brick terrace and fountain with the Angel of the Water statue as my unobtrusive audience. The song ended and as I prepared to climb the stairs, I heard a slow, deliberate applause coming out of the darkness - not from the angel, but a homeless person unknowingly watching and sharing in the moment.
Partaking in Park with others is a given whether by choice or circumstance, but as discussed in my "Everybody knows your name" entry, what would any park be without people? I experienced the answer one very late night when an emergency call beckoned me from the Upper West Side. Lost within my reeling mind, I didn't even think to take a cab but habitually set-out on my walk home through the Park to the east side. The air was bitter cold as I trudged across the North Meadow ballfields; my crunching steps through the snow even more burdensome from the latest "weight of the world" I was carrying. At this point in time, I stopped to experience what it WAS like to feel I was the only living, breathing soul within the Park and City...and yes, I remember being scared. Not because I was in Central Park in the wee hours, but because of the harsh realities that certainly awaited once I reentered the "real world" across 5th Avenue. Alone...yet with the Park's warmest embrace even on the coldest of nights.
The at-risk youth I work with have mirrored a lot of my own narcissistic make-up when it comes to how one feels about the Park. Thankfully, we've only a few blocks until we're lost within the boundaries and ourselves in one of the few places within the City where people can actually be "real people. They, too sense the desperation and privilege for needing something natural and wide-open available; something they can't explain but that obviously soothes their fears while feeding budding curiosities as well as commanding a reverant respect not often displayed elsewhere.
Over the years, we've taken full advantage of our "outdoor" Youth Center whether aimlessly roaming and playing, intense Capture The Flag tournaments in the woods, or during the "Great Blizzard" of 1/96 when I raided the Center cafeteria of serving trays and baking sheets to take a horde of bundled up kids sledding after midnight. Regardless of the amount of scheduled or spontaneous activities, there's rarely ever an "after the dinner dishes are done" walk around the Meer that I don't encounter someone, whether student or family member, out and about. Sometimes it becomes a shared experience of release from cramped aprtments. More than often, it involves a whole lot more.
Central Park has also became their safety blanket and comfort zone, too; their place for retreat and escape from a host of mind-boggling dilemnas ranging from trivial to life-threatening survival. I know the looks...even from strangers, and I've often wondered what if the grass and trees would dare to whisper all the painful details and secrets that have been concealed and revealed upon, around them and break the loyal confidence and trust found within the Park? Thankfully somewhere, for every tear there's a laugh and for every doubt there's hope until seeking the next "fix" which seems to help so many of us carry on with life in the City.
In my "Park in the Dark" entry, I'd mentioned looking for those gone AWOL within the Park and being exposed to about everything imaginable. There's a lot of self-assurance and determination when trekking through such questionable surroundings; my often contemplating who's watching over me as I'm compelled to be out trying to watch over them? Thankfully, I've been shielded from any harm but it's certainly not by luck, fate or chance.
An afternoon break of blading had inevitably gone longer than planned and I was running late and distracted as I skated toward one of the Park's roadway exits. Within a split second, a taxi came barrelling around a blind curve zeroing in on me. Somehow I managed to propel myself upon to the hood at impact before rolling into the windshield and off the side to the ground. I immediately scrambled to my feet not sure what had just happened as the cab sped away. As I began to realize my only blemish was a small scratch on my hand, it's likely the cabbie came out a lot worse from the humorous image of the purse beating upside his head being administered from his passenger in the back seat.
I've no "sound" explanation for how I managed to leap, with weighted feet from the skates, onto the hood of the car just in time to keep from being completely ran over or, how I wasn't even bruised or sore the next morning. It's one of those questions on a long list to someday ask my over-worked Guardian Angel who's been put to quite the test over the years and undoubtedly, has also found comfort, relief and immense joy within Central Park...all but manifesting theirself in everything I see and do and in everywhere I go within the heavenly boundaries of my other angel in disguise.