A Miniature Community

The park is filled with life. Three hundred and sixty degrees around me are the faces of many who come to this park and create a miniature populated community. It is a place where there are children playing and adults supervising and teens loitering and athletes exercising and dogs barking and birds chirping.

A young boy—ecstatic, frisky, and jocund—sprints to the towering play structure, which he calls “the castle.” Trailing behind him are four more children that seem to be roleplaying characters in their favorite movies or games. The children are making an ascent up the castle while climbing over and ducking under the never-ending obstacles of red bars. When they reach the peak of the castle, the young boy yells that he is being chased. Being at the top of the castle feels as if you were the king of the world, or in this case, the king of the park. He hollers to his mother below that he is going down the blue slide. The cacophonous sound of his feet stomping through the tunnel is like someone falling down the stairs. Gradually descending from the top to the bottom are these rickety sounds, leaving me in awe and making me wonder if he is making his way safely down the narrow tunnel. A few seconds later he comes out of the blue slide with a delighted smile on his face and immediately dashes back to the castle to continue his whimsical adventure. How the young children here entertain themselves so greatly defines their innovative imaginations.

Coming from the distance are sounds that seem to be of multiple bell tones. As this repetitive sound gets nearer and nearer, it seems to familiarize everyone’s ears as the song “Do Your Ears Hang Low.” The tendency to hum this memorable children’s tune was too difficult to resist. The source of the music, an ice cream truck, turns around the corner into the parking lot, exciting all the young ones. Kids pause their playtime, interrupt their parents, ask for money, and quickly march their way towards the frozen desserts of heaven. The ice cream man appears over the window, gazes down below at the everlasting line of impatient children, puts a delightful smile on his face and asks the first little girl in line what type of ice cream she would like. She points her finger over her favorite kind, and the courteous ice cream man hands her a frozen and refreshing ice cream sandwich so delicious that the kid behind her becomes jealous.

The horde of junior high students is occupying the basketball courts, as if they are marking their own territory, owning their whole area. Conversing, hollering, snickering—the students are not doing anything but trying to achieve attention. The irritating voices of the junior high kids disrupt the pleasant atmosphere that once used to be a place where little children could run around freely and not be afraid of running into a big, bad eighth grader. A male eighth grader is being annoyingly chased by a female eighth grader, in which she is begging mercifully for him to return her backpack.

As I try to ignore the extreme utterance of the immature, I see a brown Shih Tzu walking with its owner appearing from the far end of the baseball fields. From the far end of the tennis courts, I see a white Maltese also with its owner near approaching the brown Shih Tzu. When the canines initiate eye contact, sudden aggressiveness rises. Held back by leash, the two dogs attack each other as if they were in a long lasting feud. After verbally abusing, the owners move their dogs along and continue to amble their way through the park.

A couple of tennis players enter the park carrying their Prince and Wilson tennis bags. Both are wearing a set of Nike clothing. When the players open the gate to the courts, a sudden creak is produced giving the ability to have goose bumps. Two more people, dressed in a more casual way, make their way towards the tennis courts. I take notice that these two are carrying their rackets bare handed, rather than securing one inside a case. Being a tennis player myself, I conclude that these players are not of the elite type. Examining the court of the casual and the court of the elite, their style of playing is differing. The elite plays with athleticism and determination while the casual plays with entertainment and laughter.

I hear a rumble in the sidewalk coming from the opposite direction. There are three skateboarders rapidly making their way towards their destination, like they are in a grand race striving for the grand prize. The sounds of their skateboards start to become faint as they disappear in my line of sight.

This place is not what it used to be when I was younger. It was an area of grazing fields, but now it is an area for recreational activities. It used to exist as peace and quiet, but now it stands as a community and population. It was once designated for kids and families, but now is a hang out spot for teens and college students as well. But no matter how much it changes, Leghorn Park will always be like a second home to me; it welcomes people (and pets) of all ages, to do activities of all sorts.

-Shawn (0 Period)