I had actually tried to come up with some sort of narrative to accompany the following set of pictures. I had experimented with some sort of fictional account of my stroll in Central Park, but after the first paragraph, I realized it was too hard to keep track of my use of "he" and "I" for the protagonist. Then I tried to adopt a Travelogue Tone, but that didn’t work either. Other styles were considered, other first sentences were typed out and then promptly deleted. Instead, I think I will just let the pictures speak for themselves. More or less.
I’ve always had a fondness for New York City in Winter. There’s just something about the Light, and today was no exception. After allowing myself to indulge in a Chocolate Chip Walnut cookie from Levain, I walked over to the Park. I noticed a couple reading the plaque on the building on the northwest corner of 74th and Central Park West – it was the San Remo. -So that’s where it is. Which, of course – to me, at least – meant that The Dakota was the building down at 72nd Street. -And, yes, lyrics from Jason Robert Brown’s The Last Five Years started going through my head.
So, I headed down to 72nd Street to enter the Park. A couple hundred feet into the Park is where Strawberry Fields is located along with the Imagine Memorial. Each time I pass this spot, the first thought, the first memory that comes to my mind is one from grade school. I went to a Catholic, parochial grade school, and each morning, the school day started with prayers led by the principal over the PA system. Part of the morning prayers included a chance for anyone to speak up, and ask for prayers for someone or some cause. The day after John Lennon was shot, John R. spoke up, "For the peaceful and eternal rest of the soul of John Lennon. Pray for him." Even though we all knew he was quite the Beatles fan, that didn’t stop a couple of us from giggling. I believe I even saw a slight grin come across the face of the nun who was standing behind her desk at the front of the room.
After admiring how the memorial had been decorated this day, I made my way down the path, and decided to walk up the western side of the Park. Again, the Light today was quite amazing. There was this bright bluish-gray cast to everything in addition to the warm oranges and golds provided by the setting sun. Another set of lyrics – this time courtesy of Stephen Sondheim started going through my head as I passed these:
…The ones who stay
Can find each other in the crowded streets and the guarded parks,
By the rusty fountains and the dusty trees with the battered barks…
I don’t think I’ve every really seen a rusty fountain Central Park, but at least now I know that there are indeed dusty trees with battered barks.
I continued northward until I reached 96th Street. Along the way…