This is the Park

Canyon Rim Park

This is the park where, as a kid, on the edge of the wilderness, my Dad would come to swim in a spring-fed pond. This is the park where, when it remained a wilderness, I walked through it twice a day for seven years on my way to school. This is the park where, when it was an abandoned gravel pit, we road our bikes and busted our balls when our aerials caused us to bounce off our banana seats onto the bike’s steel frame.

This is the park where, when the pond had turned into a swamp, I could go look at salamanders and polliwogs and get slapped by Claudia P. for making her mom, our primary teacher, cry (I deserved it, best slap I ever got). This is the park where, when it was a wild wheat field, Scott P. would light it on fire and then pretend to help the fire fighters with a hose from his back yard. This is the park where, when it was half done and poorly managed, the bad boys of the neighborhood–one who went to prison, two who died young--hung and killed several cats--karma, especially cat karma cannot be run from.

This is the park where, when it was mostly a park with just a few wild places, Steve H. would go to make-out with Maria when he played hookie from church. This is the park where, when it had a pavilion, I would run and jump rope and pretend I was Rocky Balboa, where I had a silver bracelet a girl had gifted me fly off my wrist and sail perfectly into a thin crack in the cement under the pavilion where it could not be retrieved.

This is the park where I brought my toddlers to play while staying with my parents between leaving the military and buying a home. This is the park where I came to watch my son run cross country. This is the park that has so many of my memories that it seems like an old close friend that I can sit and reminisce with. This is the park where I want a portion of my ashes to be spread, with some saved for the Teton valley, and the rest into the Salmon River.

This is the park where a generation from now, when I am dead and gone, someone replacing the pavilion will find a stainless silver bracelet with my name engraved and he or she will then possess its power. Everyone should have a park like this.
Loren M. Lambert © Oct. 1, 2015.