Matthew Gallaway

Bruce's Garden in Inwood Is a Magical Inspiration (Field Trips)

1. On Wednesday, Stephen and I took the 1 train north to 215th Street in Inwood, which is just about as far as you can go in Manhattan. Our destination was a community garden adjacent to Isham Park known as "Bruce's Garden" in honor of Bruce Reynolds, a police officer who died on 9/11. Bruce grew up in the neighborhood and, along with his parents, was instrumental in rehabilitating Isham Park, which by the 1960s had fallen into serious disrepair. (The Reynolds were also one of the first African-American families to move into what was traditionally an Irish-American enclave.)

2. In the 1960's, the garden was a vacant lot and -- like many parks around the city -- was filled with trash and abandoned cars.

3. Having arrived a few minutes early for my reading, we strolled through the garden. At almost fifty years old, there's no sign of its decrepit past. It felt somehow less "curated" than many of the city's parks, but was all the more charming as a result. Like the best examples of folk art, there's a sense of love and artistry of the form that transcends "technique."

4. Somehow, a group of New Yorkers has managed to work together for five decades to create something magical; I don't know anything about the organization of the garden, but my sense -- having met some of them -- is that volunteers come and go, yet the organizational structure survives and -- based on the results -- thrives.

5. In times marked by large-scale corruption, increasing inequality, and other threats to institutional democracy, a community garden is a good reminder that (some) people are capable of creating magic in the world.

6. Which is not to say that all is placid at the garden.

7. Inwood, like many uptown neighborhoods, is trying to negotiate how to deal with the less savory effects of gentrification. A proposal to rezone the neighborhood would allow much higher buildings than what currently exist, and housing costs are going up. Many of the volunteers I met were nervous about the future.

8. On this night however, it seemed better not to worry too much.

9. After a solid week of rain, the sun was shining through the leaves. The garden was glowing and hypnotic.

10. The trees, having lived for fifty years, reassured us that they planned on fifty more.

 
 

Even in the Rain, the Park Is a Political Aspiration

1. A little-known fact is that rainy days are the best time to go to the park. Maybe not in a downpour, but a light drizzle is perfect.

2. It's just you and the plants, the sky a silvery white that lets the colors shine, each rain drop a crystal.

3. The outside world -- of politics and violence and mediocre television -- seems even more distant and muffled in the rain.

5. May is a particularly good time to go the park in the rain if you want to see thunderclouds of azaleas.

6. If this tree ever dies, the universe will implode into a single molecule of being and nothingness that will explode so that we can start the whole thing over.

7. This time with no commercials, good public transit, a no-growth model of economic development, and more and bigger parks everywhere.

8. There's a lot of emphasis on money in our culture, which is understandably because it's relatively objective and fungible, but here in the park -- and in the rain, as you pass a flowering azalea -- you can delude yourself into thinking that we might come to some sort consensus about what is beautiful and worth preserving.

9. It happened here, so why can't it happen everywhere?

10. The park is a political theory.

11. The photographs are the evidence for those not yet convinced.

 

AUTHOR NOTE: Because of rain delays, I am now reading this Wednesday, May 23 at Bruce's Garden in Inwood. The event starts at 6:30 pm and will be very low-key. I've never been to Bruce's Garden -- which is in Isham Park (enter at Park Terrace East) but it looks very beautiful. Hope to see you there :)  

 

My Version of the Afterlife: Heather Gardens and Terrace House

1. This week it occurred to me that the path to my version of heaven will be lined with flowering azaleas and fields of heather.

2. And some flowering trees and a stone water fountain (in case I get thirsty on the climb up)

3. Not that I believe in heaven or even an afterlife, and especially not one that's framed in terms of reward or punishment for what we did (or did not do) during our lives.

4. But if there is a heaven, I hope it looks like a beautiful park or maybe Westworld without any people or robots killing each other.

5. I have mixed feelings about Westworld: It's entertaining to watch on some level, but my sense is that the show likes to present itself as very "deep" when all of the ideas and conflict stem from a pretty basic question -- "omg what if robots were just like (straight) people?" -- that doesn't capture the complexity of how technology is shaping society generally and people specifically.

6. But the landscapes are beautiful and sometimes that's enough to keep me watching in a show.

7. Of all the television shows, Terrace House is what comes closest to capturing my idea of the afterlife.

8. I don't mean the kids on the show -- as much as I love (many of) them -- but the panel who watch and comment on the cast members. These panelists are the disembodied souls who get to observe and comment on the lives unfolding before them but they never get to interfere. They experience everything vicariously without any longing to repeat the actual pleasures and pains of their own lives.

9. Between episodes, I imagine they go for walks in the park.

10. Could I spend eternity watching television and floating through the clouds of azalea in the park? I'm not sure but maybe one day I'll get to find out.

AUTHOR NOTE: I am reading this Wednesday, May 16 at Bruce's Garden in Inwood. The event starts at 6:30 pm and will be very low-key. I've never been to Bruce's Garden -- which is in Isham Park (enter at Park Terrace East) but it looks very beautiful. Hope to see you there :)  

 

This Version of the Future Does Not Have a Premium Cable Package

1. More than ever, the park seemed like an insane dreamworld: the colors, the flowers, the heat, the lack of wifi: how did such a place exist in modern society? Besides a few golf-cart devices, there were no motorized vehicles or SUVs.

2. There were birds, however, including this cardinal.

3. Why were these people wearing aluminum armor or bodysuits? And why didn't they answer me? It occurred to me that despite being a person I would never understand people.

4. After a few minutes running through the park, I felt better. My thoughts were clear. I forgot what it was like to live in perilous times.

5. Miracles awaited at every corner. Had a tree ever held more flowers? It seemed unlikely.

6. There were so many worlds within this world, each one more complex than the next. The outside world, the one in which I spent most of our time, began to seem superficial, dull, and violent, like the recent blockbuster movie __italics___ (based on _italics_ ). Maybe it was time to retire our flag of stripes and stars for one of hyacinths, tulips, and azaleas.

7. I had never seen these pink tulips before. I asked them, "Who are you and why are you here?" and they responded in the usual way.  I felt very alone but not lonely, which is one of the best ways to feel.

8. Having reached an understanding, it was time to go home.