The problem with public parks? The “public” has no say.
People who sit behind desks can shut public parks down, lock them up, and patrol them with low flying, whirling knife-bladed, spy drones. And a person can shake their grubby little fist at the sky only to have their picture taken and then placed on the wall of the un-desirables and trouble mongers who violate parks.
You cannot touch the king’s grass or swing on the queen’s swing set, or feed the royal ducks.
The answer? Everyone should own a big-a$$ed park, just like the Obamas in Martha’s Vineyard. Big cities, zero lot lines, sewage shooting past your head in the apartment wall next to your face cannot be good for human animals, in my opinion. Better to roam open spaces and breathe big air.
So, that’s my proposal. A park for everyone.
Give me a park or give me death. Six acres of park and a mule.
We have a park, of sorts, but no mule. It’s six acres and a back-breaking amount of work, but our park is open.
Activities include: Fence building under the blinding, sterilizing Florida sunshine, social distancing easily enforced; animal poop moving, equipment provided; spent bullet digging in the sandhill on the shooting range, keep what you find; branch, log, and stick dragging, cardio and strength building guaranteed.
My husband often sits in the glow of a gently setting sun, sighs, and talks of life in a condo. I hush him and send him out to feed the chickens.
He once tried to get me to sell everything, travel the world with him, and live in Marriot hotels.
Stunned, I said, “Do you know how fast I’d be out pulling weeds in their tasteful landscaping?”
“You could live on room service,” he countered.
“But I need dirt.” I smiled around the grit of sand in my teeth.
“I know,” he sighed.
My son-in-law once described hobby farming. “Farming is buying animals that poop and then moving the poop around.”
My response? “What’s your point?”
Parks are a lot of work. It’s true. But it’s good honest, back-to-nature (real nature, not that crazy Disney crap that makes people think ducks wear pants or don’t eat the entrails out of other animals) work.
Dirt . . . it does a body good.
Dirt for everyone.
Linda (Digger) Zern
