Chapter 37 - The Park in Glendale

According to Boy: Just how fond was I of this little park in Glendale? Well, consider this. Thirty-eight years after the fact, I still refer to the park as my "happy place." When I need to relax, perhaps to bring my blood pressure down, I picture myself lying on top of the hill that was the center of Glendale Park, feeling the breeze blow across my face, and hearing the dry blades of grass slide back and forth across each other. Perhaps the greatest charm of the Park was that once on top of the hill, you could not see another human being, and none could see you. It was, indeed, my happy place.

I really do not think there ever was such as place as "Glendale Park"; at least it did not go by that name. Probably it would have been just about as correct to call it "Mike and Evie Park." Geographically, it was located in Glendale, Queens. It was within easy walking distance from our apartment. The so-called "Park" was actually a grassy hill, surrounded on the north by Myrtle Avenue, on the west by Forest Parkway, and on the south and east by Jackie Robinson Parkway (also known as Interborough Parkway). I am not sure if the latter names were used in 1969, when Evie and I frequented the park.

When lying on the top of the hill, we could hear the fast traffic speeding by on the Interborough. Occasionally there would be the blast of car horns. But a person would have to walk all the way over the top, and part way down the other side of the hill, to actually see vehicles.

The same was the case with Forest Parkway and Myrtle Avenue—we knew they were there, but from the top of the hill, and lying down, the cars passing on those roadways were virtually invisible, as were we to the people riding in them. It was the perfect place for privacy; privacy in the midst of one of the largest bustling cities in the world.

Sometimes Evie and I would pack a sandwich, and go up on the hill; of course taking Mister with us. We would tie a rope to my foot, and the other end to Mister’s collar. Mister could not be trusted whenever or wherever there were squirrels to be chased. And there were plenty of squirrels on our hill.

We would toss a blanket on the ground, and stare up into the summer sky. I am not sure if it really happened, or if it was just my fantasy, but I can vividly recall (or perhaps imagine) making love with Evie on that hill; perhaps more than once. I can’t wait to read what she has to write about our hill—whether or not she remembers it the same way I do. I really think we did make love up there; but if not, I know I fantasized along those lines. I would not have passed up that opportunity.

Anyway, it’s my story—I’ll tell it any way I want.