I had such a lovely time this afternoon in Dolores Park just loafing around. It was a glorious warm day, one of those days when I know it will be extra warm because in the early morning the sky was blue instead of foggy. I saw an adorable punk wedding party having a little picnic (I gave the bride some zines). It would have been fun to interview them and write up their wedding small town newspaper social reporter style but I suddenly worried that would be too intrusive. However if you know the punk wedding party, connect me please so I can write that funny social column news story.
Acrobats, maybe an entire circus school, having their practices on the lawn by the tennis courts. A guy playing decent blues guitar not too far away. Little kids rolling in the grass and doing cartwheels. Tiny dogs drinking from the special dog drinking fountain. People in very short shorts. Mild beer drinking in a laid back way. Lots of small picnics and people lying on the grass. An old hippie guy in a tie dye with a mushroom shaped money bucket (selling weed and shrooms).
I like the sound of all those humans together and the distant shriek of seagulls mixing with little kids laughing and calling to each other. It makes me think of being a kid on Narragansett Beach (or Bonnet Shores but really more Town Beach like because of the crowds)
On my way to the J train stop at the corner of the park I ran into the girl from my Buy Nothing neighborhood group who (around the election time) posted to say she wanted to do a nice thing for random strangers, and also wanted to practice with her new sewing machine, so the first five people to respond who have women’s pants with inadequate pockets, she will come by on her bike, pick up the pants, sew better pockets into them, and bring them back.
Besides the beauty of this idea and its multifaceted layers of thoughtfulness, and the awesomeness that my rainbow unicorn pants now have pockets big enough to hold my phone and keys, there is another, maybe unexpected layer. Every time I tell the story of this pants pocket sewing girl to someone, they love it and are blown away and make a resolution to do something even half as cool and creative to put something positive into the world. I think because it is strikingly achievable, and also obviously something anyone would be pleased by (at least anyone who asked for it). Big problems are hard to fix so we need to have ways to take heart in small ways.
I told the lady waiting at the ramp the pocket story as we admired her sleepy infant who was gnawing at his own wrist and pointing at the trains passing the other way. “You know what’s messed up,” she said. “HIS pockets are sometimes bigger than mine. He can’t even walk. What does he need pockets for?”
It is one of the perks of wheelchair use, that you get to hang out with all the stroller pushers and their cute kids. Either on the ramps or at the front of the bus!
I do love this city <3