#30 - Improv in the park - July 1, 2012

Katrina's Facebook is a much better photo resource than this blog is, in general.  She posts most days, and she posts more pics.  I write more, and mine stay chronological, so that's my gig, I s'pose.

I slept like a rock last night.  The night before, we had left the AC on and we both froze with 1 small and thin blanket to share.  Last night, Libby went looking for blankets and found a sleeping bag.  2 toasty parents who didn't have to wake up to shut off the AC were very happy. 



Us on the way to church.  Aria's dress was still at the
cleaner's, so she went casual.



Morning came too quickly.  The extra-long church commute meant we had to get up at 6:30 instead of 7.  The preparation for church keeps getting easier.  Jacob needs to be reminded fewer times to get dressed, puts his shoes on the right feet, and wear his pants front-side forward.  Christian has learned to do an excellent job with his hair.  Not a style I like, but certainly a style that he chose and maintains.  Which beats the "I just woke up.  Can't you tell?" look that he's been sporting for a few years.

The girls are on 95% auto-pilot, with just a little hair touch-up before heading out the door.  We left at 8:30, plenty of time according to Google Maps, which does not realize that you may have to wait 15 minutes for your train to leave. 

But the ride was fine - we transferred at Time's Square, hopped on the 3, realized it was an express, hopped off at the next stop, and rode the 1 to 66th st, Lincoln Center.  The church is right there.  We sat in the foyer, because we were half an hour late.  Church was cool - it's built to accomodate visitors.  About half the people there were visitors.  Consistent in all the kids' classes, Relief Society, and Elder's Quorum.  Nobody seems to mind, the ward is just generally supportive and ready for visitors. 

After the block, we walked to Central Park.  It is hard to grasp the scope of Central Park.  It is massive.  It is a planned, designed wilderness area with cafes and drinking fountains.  It has dozens of playgrounds and parks, none of them visible from another one, massive open fields for picnics and sunbathing, cricket wickets, horshoes pins, jogging paths.  It does not fit the definition of a city park as I have come to understand it.  It's completely different. 

Today, for instance, we walked for a bit.  The kids wanted to play on a rock formation they had played on before because they knew it was fun.  We almost gave in, and then saw a wedding taking place on the top of the rock.  So we sat on some benches, watching some guys playing catch with a softball while Jake chased pigeons.

When we had relaxed a bit, we went off in search of a fun place to play.  We wandered.  We did not know where we were going.  We knew we were heading East (the church is on the West side of the park) because we could hear traffic.  We walked under a bridge and found a rock formation that looked like fun for the kids.  They usually play Agent Zero (in homage to a little part of a video game we all like) or Star Wars.  Then Jake separated himself from the group and tried to slide down the rocks.  It was pretty smooth.  And a pretty good slide.  So he did it again.  Then Libby noticed and she started sliding. 

Christian had been standing in the path of the sliding, and I had to tell him to move a few times.  And then he realized that it might be fun and went up to try it.  After a couple tries, he came down to the day bag looking for something to slide on.  No luck.  He found a trashed water bottle and decided to try it.  It worked perfectly.  Much faster, and he went further down the rock. 

While they slid, I found a nearby water fountain (the rock is with sight of the Dairy visitor center) and got water.  It was 90 degrees, and water was a primary concern for all of us.  As the kids are sliding, another family comes by and the kids see that sliding is fun.  So they join in for a few minutes.  Dad, at least, is from another country, somewhere German-ish by his accent.  They leave, and shortly after it is time for us, too, to move on.  Katrina has found a cool-looking park on the map she bought, and the plan is to go play there, we'll go to the subway station together where I'll see them off, and I'll head to Grand Central to go home. 

On the way, I'm bring up the rear and am stopped by a tourist.  She is from Salt Lake, and is wondering where the zoo is.  I show her my best guess with my phone, tell her that church is nice here, and move on.  Hard to settle into the role of a local.  But I suppose when you're from Utah, that anyone who lives in NY must be a local.  I certainly would have thought that before a month or 2 ago. 

We ended up at the park Katrina had picked out.  It was heaven on a day like today.  Dual spraying water features, a water fountain, sand, a stone pyramid and a rope pyramid to climb on.  We walked into the park and didn't see Libby up close for half an hour.  It's fully fenced, largely shaded by 50-foot trees, and benches line the inside of the fence. 

The boys had squirt guns and a grand old time shooting each other and running around.  Jake needed the "if you squirt someone, he's going to squirt you back.  You can't be mad about it.  That's how you play the game."  talk again.  He relaxed and had fun after that. 

The playing lasted another hour or so.  Katrina had a crappy experience with a pigeon.  I have photos but alas, cannot share them on a semi-public forum.  Pretty funny, and she took it with grace. 

We all got drinks and dressed and walked out of the East side of Central Park to 5th Avenue.  Yep, that one.  The one named in the candy bar, the one that comes after Saks.  Eventually the feeling of wonder will subside, but for now NYC is still extremely surreal.  We headed downtown to Columbus Circle, and I dropped the family off.  As they descended into the subway and I walked back up into the sun, I wondered for a moment just what I was going to day at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon in the city.

I elected to do the kind of thing I usually do when I have free time and no family to watch after.  I did something nobody would want to do with me: walk a mile or so in the heat from Central Park to Grand Central, just to see what was there.  I had walked Madison Ave for 15 blocks on Friday.  I thought 5th Ave might be similar.  Nope.  5th Ave is a temple to materialistic hedonism.  The first half mile from 59th st to 50th st is crawling with tourists.  Up to the eyeballs with tourists.  I've been one of those tourists.  Now I see that experience with different eyes. 

The store fronts are gorgeous - Abercrombie is fronted by 2 shirtless lifeguards, hanging out with sunglasses on and whistles on their necks.  Dolce and Gabbana, Saks, Tourneau, Gucci, Coach, hundreds of high-end brands I had never heard of lined the streets for half a mile.  My thoughts: Yuck.  And This is what other cities try to emulate when they say "great shopping"?  That's why I had those places!

And when I felt hemmed in by both the crowds, the billboards, and the buildings, across the street was a construction zone.  That's an old building.  That's a church!  And there's a sign that says it's open.

I crossed the street and walked into St Patrick's.  Alec Baldwin had gotten married there the day before.  Today it was mostly empty.  Beautiful.  And refreshingly cool.  And calm.  And dark.  I was tired, sweaty, and overdosed with commercialism.  I sat in a pew at the back, watching the vibe of the place.  The worshippers meditating, the flash of tourist photos, candles burning in the saints' chapels off to the side, the stained glass so high up you can't tell what it is, but you assume it's beautiful because of the brigthness of the colors.  I sat with a devotional book and read the devotional for today and tomorrow, drinking in some of the historical monumentousness that belongs to Roman Catholicism.  I then opened up my phone, went to the church's web site and read about its history.

A church service started up, out of nowhere.  The sign out front has said the last service was at 11am on Sundays, and it was manifestly past that.  The service was in Spanish.  There was some music - an arrangement of "Oh, How Lovely Was the Morning".  Ironic, that.  I didn't know the lyrics being sung, but the tune and chord progression was unmistakeable.  Maybe it's our hymnal version that's ironic in the end.

I was refreshed.  I had decided to not do the full walk around the pulpit, but I noticed lots of other people doing it, so I put the backpack back on and started walking, enjoying the art and the music.  I reluctantly left the church behind.  I needed to get home.  The tourists had either thinned out because of the heat or time of day or area, and my progress to midtown went faster than before.  I saw the terminal building and contemplated eating lunch.  Again, the phone.  My train was due to leave in 6 minutes.  They only leave hourly.  This was my chance.  I picked up the pace, for once not stopping to enjoy Grand Central.  I was all business, finding my track, hopping in the 2nd car about a minute before it left the station. 

The rest of the day was uneventful - a train ride home, filled with Yankee fans.  A short drive, and a night of little sleep as I had to turn off the AC unit in my window before I slept.  The unit is tipped back to the inside a little, and condensation drips into the room.  The mug that I had placed under it would have overflowed, and that wouldn't have been nice, so I turned it off and slept fitfully.