Park It

Tea: White Monkey

Music: Classix Nouveaux, "Guilty"

Time: Night.

I went to Crestview Park, not far from my son's high school, after dropping him off for his drama performance tonight. (I'll see the show on Thursday.)

I shot a few pictures, stayed about 20 minutes ... and saw a grand total of one other person. She, for the record, was walking through.

On the way back to the house, I found Robinson Park -- a tiny plot, a block long and so narrow that not only could you hit a ping-pong ball across it, you might be able to throw it across. (At .27 acres, it's the smallest park with grass in Overland Park.) It's still not the smallest park I've ever seen. That designation goes to a tiny park, the name of which I can't remember, in my hometown. It occupies one point of a three-way intersection and would fit on my lot here with room to spare -- and I don't live on a big lot.

It, too, was empty. At just a little before six on a nice late winter day, with at least half an hour of decent light left, two perfectly good parks were utterly empty.

To those who crave solitude, as I often do, that could be a boon. On the other hand, if parks don't get used, cities -- always looking for sources of cash -- could use that as a reason to sell off the land.

I'm not on a crusade or anything. I look lousy in armor. But I'm going to shoot for spending one hour a week in a park -- a different park each week -- so long as the weather permits. I might be reading, might be writing, might be taking pictures. Who knows?

But I'll be there -- and I hope I'm not the only one.