The Latest Memory:
On Wednesday, May 2nd, along with the other first
grade classes, I took my students to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden to offer some
of them their first experience of being surrounded by trees and open space
without flashing lights and moving vehicles nearby. On this same Wednesday, May
2nd, along with their same grade colleagues, easily fifty teachers
took their students to this exceptional green oasis to offer their students an
opportunity to explore this New York City rarity. As it turned out, in addition
to their being a significant number of children within the walls of this place,
it rained constantly and without restraint for the entire two hours we were
there. Soaked six and seven year olds who don’t get to eat their lunch on
expectedly dry grassy lawns and have to wait until they return to their
classroom because they are not allowed to eat on the school bus are not always
so forgiving; on this trip, however, I feel my students were pretty resilient.
Indeed, they didn’t have much choice, and as it goes with many children, if you
keep telling them they need to do something, they stop thinking of their
alternative ideas whether they are rational or not. As we dried off our clothes
at school and munched on our lunches, the students couldn’t get over the
colossal koi fish, the gigantic peonies, and the virtually infinite field of
bluebells.
The Previous Memory:
On Saturday, April 28th, along with Elizabeth and
my parents, I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden to celebrate my mom’s
birthday and enjoy a day within a special environment not explored by my mom or
dad for several decades. On this same Saturday, April 28th, along
with their teenage cosplay friends, their Hanami-appreciating spouses, their
educational opportunity-seeking parents, and those botany enthusiast types,
thousands of people congregated at the annual Sakura Hatsuri Cherry Blossom
Festival. Despite roughing a decent wait for a delicious breakfast at Tom’s
Restaurant on Washington Avenue, I didn’t think my parents would navigate the
uncharacteristically crowded destination with the same patience and pleasant
satisfaction as they did their glorified diner experience. My intuition was off
target. Indeed, maybe for different reasons as my own, my parents found the
combination of the beautiful lush garden and the eccentric folk about the place
not only satisfying but memorable. Enhancing the enjoyment of the outing, long
time friends of the family spotted us in their car walking on Eastern Parkway
towards Grand Army Plaza and encouraged us to meet up with them at Berry Park a
bier garden off McCarren Park—and we did just that. After downing a couple of Hofbrau
dunkel beers, my parents reflected on the day with an admiration of their
unexpectedly amazing meal, the gorgeous flowers, the number of people who were
at the seasonal event, and that old feeling of just how small the world can be
when passing through the circles of familiar faces.
The Reflective Memory:
There are a lot of people in New York City.
There are a lot of older folks in New York City.
There are a lot of middle-aged adults in New York City.
There are a lot of post-adolescents in New York City.
There are a lot of older folks in New York City.
There are a lot of middle-aged adults in New York City.
There are a lot of post-adolescents in New York City.
There are a lot of teenagers in New York City.
There are a lot of children in New York City.
There are a lot of babies in New York City.
There are a lot of us living pretty much the same way as
everyone else in New York City, and we all get to live it as if we are still
unique for experiencing in a certain way at a certain time.
But, seriously, there are a lot of people in New York City.
