Early Saturday morning, a friend came by my house. It was already shaping up as another glorious Fall day. The sun shone and the sky was blue. Despite the early hour, the air temperature was unseasonably mild, as had been the case even before the recent official change of seasons.
We took advantage of the day to walk to nearby Unity Park. During our short walk, I observed there were only a few hints of Fall color. Not surprising since for months we’ve been enjoying more pleasant and warm weather in these parts than in many previous years. As we walked, I thought to myself, the leaves would not change their colors in earnest until November. So, imagine my surprise when we arrived outside the entrance to Unity Park, and I saw that its signature Maple trees were ablaze in deep crimson, gold, and yellow, basking under the warm sun.
Small groups of adults had already gathered, along with many youngsters. I could see that my friend and I were two of the oldest people in sight, which reminded me to text Mont and let him know that we had arrived at the park.
It started getting busier. While a steady stream of newcomers arrived, I grabbed an available seat on one of the park’s benches, fearful that my sciatica would activate if I had to remain standing. Nearby, someone had put down a large box containing pieces of colored chalk, and kids were busy writing or drawing chalk pictures on the sidewalk. Older kids went running throughout the park, playing impromptu games of chase.
Meanwhile, I saw a solitary kid I judged to be roughly the same age catch a football thrown to him by a young man whom I assumed was his proud father. On the adjacent sidewalk, parents were urging their children to sing, shriek, or mark up the sidewalks with colored chalk, while busily snapping photos of the little darlings with their cell phones.
I spied a woman dressed in an elaborate, acrylic cosplay costume, shiny and entirely silver right down to her hair and boots. I wondered how early she would have arisen on this day to prepare for a gathering in the park.
A young, bearded man sat down next to me on the bench. He asked if there was going to be a drum circle, then produced a conga drum from a large bag, which he attempted to play. In short order, I became annoyed by the loud, arrhythmic pounding, though I noticed that most of the kids didn’t seem fazed, and a few even sat in rapt attention. Fortunately, the drummer stopped after an older man arrived and joined us on the bench. The drummer then proudly introduced us to his father.
Mont showed up and joined us. And other people continued to arrive.
Soon, the park was swarming with adults and children. I thought the fact that it was a beautiful day couldn’t explain such a large and festive gathering in a tiny neighborhood park.
After we had been there for more than one hour, a young woman, wearing what I took to be a safety vest of some kind, approached. In a loud voice, she announced, “We are going to gather on the playground.” As she addressed us, I saw a shiny, silver metal whistle hanging down from around her neck. Mont must have heard her, because with that, he got up and slowly shuffled off in the direction of the playground. In an instant, he disappeared into the crowd, which I now estimated to be at least several hundred strong. Indeed, it might have been a thousand or more. Concerned we’d get separated, I texted him, but to no avail, and it proved to be the last I saw of Mont that morning.
After several minutes, adults and children started to move. I could see they were leaving the park. Soon, a makeshift, single-file line of humanity was trundling north down the street, away from the park. They crossed the street at the first busy intersection. From my seat on the park bench, I noticed that several police officers had arrived and had quickly thrown up a couple of wooden barricades to protect the marchers from the busy Saturday morning traffic.
Drivers honked their horns, and one passing police officer in a marked squad car flashed a “thumbs up” to the smiling, singing, and laughing marchers, who moments earlier had been with me in that park. And me? I would remain seated on my bench, happy to save my aching back while taking in a festive street scene consisting of people of different ages and races who came together on a recent warm and sunny October morning.
