Central Park ~ one place I want to return to, when I have more time. Margaret and I had to rush through it, so there was much we missed, and what we did see, we couldn't really spend much time with. At the entrance where we went in, in the curve of the 'access' loop/road in front of it, there was a horse-drawn carriage, with a white horse. When I saw it, I thought of a romantic, 30s-sounding song from John and Yoko's album, "Double Fantasy," where they seemed to be riding in a carriage. As I approached and briefly petted him, however, I immediately thought of Ferdinand [as I'm recalling the name to be], the famous Kentucky Derby winner that was sold and shipped overseas, and ended up in dog food. His fate was major in the onset of a battle by activists on behalf of horses. Apparently, many horses, who have spent their lives in service to people and their whims and desires, racing, pulling carriages, et al, have ended up that way. Horses who have wanted only to please their masters. Well, I don't need to go through all of that.....however, those were my initial thoughts upon entering Central Park.
Such a respit from the streets of New York it turned out to be, however. Just like the photos and the stories, winding pavement through hilly terrain, joggers passing by, people with dogs, birds fluttering about, rollerbladers, people with babies in strollers, and other walkers. Green. So green. The trees, bushes, grass, and foliage. I was amazed at the difference in land forms. We passed by ponds, and lamented at the fate of animals in zoos, when we came upon one of them. I asked Margaret to take a photo of me beneath a statue of a wildcat that was placed in the side of a chopped-off hill. Then, a thirty-something, blonde pony-tailed woman passing by [roller-blading?] agreed to take a picture of us together. Or, did she offer? It seems like she did; if not, she was just so agreeable to it, that she might as well have
.
We had differing opinions on whether I should have my picture taken by the
side of the metal statue of a man on a horse ~ where the statue was 'engraved' with "POLAND" ~ or the
front of it, where the smaller print gave his name and additional information. For me, however, the name of the country of one of my origins held more significance, and since the photo related to me, I 'won'
. Margaret took a photo of families picnic'ing, with children playing, in the open, grassy area that looked like 'a park.'
I wanted to come out near where The Dakota was, my original,
end-goal for trekking
through the Park. We found out what street we needed to end up at, and the most expedient way to it. However, after several curves, and having taken a slightly wrong turn, that took us beyond where we should've gone, we began hearing opera'tic orchestration. There across a grassy field was a bandshell, and people doing sound testing. One of the things we'd wondered about was 'Opera in the Park' ~ and serendipitously, there it was! Making wrong turns can certainly have its advantages
! I asked a man passing by if that's really what it was and he confirmed it. He couldn't recall whether it was going to be Madame Butterfly or one by Verdi [whose name
I can't recall, as I'd never heard of it ~ my former husband later named it for me and when I asked, "How did you
know that!?!" he said, "It's always the one that no one's ever heard of
."]. I struck out ahead of Margaret [so, what else is new
, cuz it was getting to be late afternoon, early evening] and we wanted to find out the details on seeing the next day, how early did we need to come, where would we come in at, etc. The man had told us we could come see it at 8:00 PM, or we could watch the rehearsal from 11:30 till 2:00, or 11 till 2:30. That sounded fine to us. Turned out we could come any time of the day for either, so the entry spot wouldn't be a big deal. Yep, that's what we'd do. Come to the rehearsal, and still have our night free. The man had also told us about free plays in a theatre that he pointed out, but that wouldn't be happening during our time in New York.
We continued, and passed a sign noting "Strawberry Fields" ~ which set Margaret on talking about the Beatles' popularity vs. other, "just as talented" groups in the area, and how they had gotten heavily promoted, in front of the rest. She had a friend who had dated [once] one of them; Paul, as I recall. Of course, I 'defended' them to the 'nth' degree ~ their songs are well on their way to being classics, and just 'any' group wouldn't have that kind of songwriting ability. Perhaps, in Britain, they weren't embraced quite as wholly as they were in the U.S. At any rate, my loyalty lies with John, and with his last home being where we were walking to, considering other groups as being just as talented wasn't something I was likely to embrace. We came out on the other side of the Park, past huge boulders, and very exotic-looking, dark-green-foliaged ravines. Back to the streets of New York.
We had to walk
back to where The Dakota would be. Other buildings along the way had their names engraved in them. When we got to it, however, the name was nowhere that could be seen. However, there was a doorman, dressed in slate blue, standing by a double, black, wrought-iron gate. I approached him and he had "The Dakota" embroidered on his uniform. I'd intended to ask if Yoko still lives there, which I have no reason to believe she doesn't, but for whatever reason, still wanted to confirm it. Instead, I asked if this was 'the' gate where John was entering, and he confirmed it was. I asked if we could take a picture, with him in it, and he said yes, but that he couldn't pose for it, that he'd "just stand right here" and he turned slightly, looking away, as he said it. I went and stood near a small, free-standing, metal sign, intended for keeping the public out. It was, quite likely, the one photo of me taken with my knowledge, in which I did not smile. It felt more like a grimace. I'd forgotten about Yoko and, afterward, I approached the doorman again and asked, "How close to the gate did he get?" He said, "Right there," and pointed to the exact spot where I'd just been standing. For that, I wasn't at all prepared and broke down. Tears filled my eyes, all the way back from 1980, and I walked away toward Margaret. I tried to explain to her how it was for me at the time, and as I did, I was struck by how I was feeling the same on the inside, now, as I had then. Twenty-four years had just disappeared. I couldn't describe exactly how I had felt at the time; the intensity, or the exact reasons for, the grief I felt; or why the loss was so deep. I only knew it was the same kind as with John F. Kennedy and his brother, Bobby, and slightly less, Martin Luther King, Jr. I described exactly what I was doing, when I heard [up all night because of some college class; hearing it coming faintly from my bedroom radio upstairs ~ yet straight to my ears ~ and me getting up and following the broadcaster's voice up the stairs in disbelief and denial]. I related how the grief I felt was intense, but I wasn't one of those who sought counseling for it; but how I still have distinct memories of riding on a bus, and seeing some youngish guys acting idiotic and thinking, "Why couldn't it have been you!?! Why him!?!" Yes, absolutely, I know those weren't 'cool' or righteous thoughts, but I was just being honest. It's how I was feeling and what I thought. Maybe ten minutes later, I was able to talk normally, and the tears subsided. My visceral response to the doorman's words shocked me in its immediacy and intensity. New York was still fresh, as I drove from Michigan, enroute back to Florida, and from 70 miles north of Atlanta, listened for a hundred miles, to two hours out of a regular, four-hour, Sunday morning program of all Beatles music. It was when "Imagine" came on that the tears returned. Some of the things we experience can be just as powerful years later as the day they happened. Driven even deeper by the damages of time, the tears fall for many things.
We didn't make it back the next day for the opera rehearsal. Getting out of Carman and over to the Chelsea turned out to be problematic when I, by habit, locked my car after I'd put some things in it, and had to go for more. I thought my keys were locked in, and after finally getting hold of the
'real' AAA ~ are a lot of the companies listed in the phone book ever deceptive in their business names
! ~ when I called the one listed as AAA Towing and Service and asked, "Are you AAA?" the man replied, "Yes." I explained that I needed someone to come unlock my car, and he said, "That'll be $80." I, of course, reacted to that, and he said, "I can do it for you for $65." When I said, "Well, what's the point of having AAA!?!" he hung up on me. Using the computer, we finally found the
real AAA, and got them on their way. With her things already in my car, and prior to my calling
anyone on the phone, Margaret had begun thinking in terms of missing her flight back to England the following day
, so having AAA enroute was a relief for her, too. While waiting, I started going through the bags I still had, figuring I might as well 'just in case' and ~ Bingo ~ there were my keys
! I cancelled 'the
real AAA' call, and by the time we got loaded, and my car back to the parking garage; caught the subway with the things we'd need [and
not need
] for one night; and checked in at the Chelsea, with the Leonard-room snafu and my fall and all; the rehearsal was at
least half over! So much for "Opera in the Park" ~ at least on
this trip!
~ Lizzy
.
" Everyone in the group was on the inside, and I was on the outside 
. Margaret and Anne had to look every bit as stunned as I did, and then suddenly it was like a Woody Allen movie, with Anne, wide-eyed from the other side of the glass, using her fingers with first one hand, and then with both, as well as mouth'ing it, to signal me to get the "1 or the 9!" the "1 or the 9!" the "1 or the 9!" [the subway numbers that would get me back to Carman] ~ until the car started to move, and we all kind of helplessly waved and smiled to each other, and I just shrugged my shoulders and then laughed. Suddenly, I realized that there I was, with time to listen to more of that incredible music 
.