It’s somewhere in-between fall and winter. I can tell because there is a chilled breeze blowing against my face, and the trees surrounding me are a thousand different shades of yellow, orange, red and brown. I also know that it’s almost winter, because it will be my birthday in 2 days; November 4th. What a perfect time to visit Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. I have been to and through this park too many times to count, throughout so many stages of my life. During the many stages of my life, Liberty Park has always been here, collecting my memories and never quite changing, even though I do.
I am sitting at the top of a grassy hill, the tallest hill in the park; actually, the only hill in the park. The grass feels slightly damp, but I sit on it anyway. Ahead of me is the pond. It’s a rather small pond that used to look so large to me when I was younger. It seems that as I have grown, the pond has shrunk. I can see small ripples in the water, centralizing to a bubbling splash. They are ducks, dunking their heads under water, doing who knows what, and then coming back up for air, completely dry. I have always wondered how ducks stay so dry, considering that they spend most of their time waddling through the water, obviously it has something to do with their perfectly placed feathers. There are also groups of geese that keep following each other onto the grass and then back into the water.
The dock catches my eye. I always forget that it’s there. It looks old and rickety now, sun-damaged and distorted by the water and snow. I have been on that dock many times, I remember, because it has always scared me. It looks like at any moment, it could break, and if someone was standing on it, they would fall right into the muggy water. The dock is there because there used to be paddle boat rides for $5. I never paid to go because I am afraid of the water.
Now, you can’t even walk up to the water’s edge because the entire pond is surrounded by a fence. Earlier this summer, there was an oil leak that got into the water here at the park, leaving the pond looking even murkier than it ever did before. There is a consistent oily toxic smell lurking in the air, even 4 months later. There are a group of men on the other side of the fence, wearing construction helmets and orange vests. They are pointing and chatting. Although, I cannot hear what they are saying, I can hear an occasional group laugh. It doesn’t look like they are doing much work, and I wonder if that is the reason this poor pond still has oil residue in it, and the stupid ugly fence is still imprisoning the water.
Something else that ruins the scenery for me is that constant sound of vehicles on the ever so busy 700 East. It reminds me of all the emissions contributing to the Salt Lake Valley smog and the terrible Utah drivers. It makes it harder to enjoy the hundreds of trees and fields of grass that I am amongst. I am also distracted by the oversized American flag flapping in the wind that might as well be slapping me in the face; it also takes away from the beauty.
The people that come here vary, and the reasons they come here differ. I personally come here to reminisce, think, walk, read or just to enjoy being outside. There are numerous picnic tables and some grills scattered at the bottom of this hill I am on. From here, I can see a group of three young women, probably around my age. Once is drinking a beer and one is stretching; yoga like poses. The third girl is chit chatting away.
I’ve had countless amounts of alcoholic beverages in this park, which makes me wonder how lax the security is. During the Sunday drum circles, I have seen teenagers smoking joints, casually, yet, I have never seen a cop here. I think a few years ago there was even a stabbing amidst the park.
While it seems that people are tending to feel free here, there is a couple, about 100 yards from where I am sitting, belligerently making out. They are paying no attention to me blatantly staring at them. Also, an Asian man and woman come up to me and begin speaking to me in English, but with an accent I can barely understand. The man hands me what appears to be a periodical. He says, “If you have time when finish here, come join us at service in hour, have a nice day.” I figured they were Mormons if they were trying to get me to go to church.
Usually, I would immediately disregard things like this because I have had, (what seems to be like), millions of Mormons try to convert me. But, I was a little intrigued; after all, I don’t recall knowing any Asian Mormons. The periodical is titled, “Good News: Bi-weekly,” and the first article is, “The faith of the Raven, and the faith of the Dove.” I turn to the second page to see a man on his hands and knees, praying. This is when I decide to fold this paper up, to recycle later.
As I’ve been sitting here, there is has been a little boy, about four years old, running up and down this hill, over and over again. I think to myself, how many times I might be able to run up and down the hill, before I would need a break; probably 2. The boy’s dad seems young, younger than me. He isn’t paying much attention to his son. Instead, he is looking down at his hands which are texting on his cell phone. It’s been about 15minutes of this running up and down with no words, until the dad says, “we gotta go pick up mom, let’s go.” The boy then follows the dad, who is still texting. How sad, I think. Play with your kid! The couple that was making out before, are now standing up, and are still making out. I am sick of watching them; it’s time to explore some more.
I am sitting on a bench in the middle of the park. The bench is cold because it is made out of metal, but I am warm because the sun is shining on my black shirt. The sign next to me reads, “Chase Home Museum of Utah Folk Arts, open April through October.” This reminds me of how lively the park is in the summer time, when it’s warmer outside. Right now, the fountains in front of me are dry. The orange leaves are dancing in unified swirls on the ground, with each gust of wind.
This is my favorite part of the park. It’s beautiful here. Straight through the center of the park are 2 long sidewalks shadowed by giant trees on either side. I used to ride my bike through here daily, instead of riding on the roads. It looked like the trees were bowing their heads to me as I rode past. It still looks the same.
People are staring at me as they walk past, probably because I am staring at them. I like staring at people. This is where a lot of people walk, jog or bike to get from one end of the park to the other, so it’s the perfect place to people watch, and I am not shy.
Behind me is a large white greenhouse that holds a variety of flowers in the summer, closed now, due to cold temperatures I assume. And, off in the distance is the playground. I see one or two kids swinging, but mostly it feels abandoned. The kids that usually play here, are likely in school, although, their parents probably just don’t want them out playing in the cold.
Most of the people walking by me are alone, or they are walking dogs. I know, that on the outskirts of the park, there is a running and biking path, where most people go to jog or rollerblade. I think people like to come here to be alone, to have freedom to think their thoughts; it seems like no one really wants to be bothered.
There is an old man sitting on a rock near the small pond behind me. I can tell that he’s old because his hair is silver and his face is saggy. He is wearing a denim jacket and black slacks. He is staring into the pond, and I think for a moment, that he is doing what I am doing, thinking back to all of the good times, and the bad. It makes me sad because I wonder if he feels lonely. I make up my own stories about people lives. Maybe he has lost his wife, or maybe he never had one.
Suddenly, I hear a click clonk, click clonk. I know that sound because I used to longboard through here often. It was a skateboarder. But this dude wasn’t peddling, instead he was holding onto a leash, connected to a dog that was running, which in turn pulled the boy; effortless. I watched him go by and then, as any dog would, the mutt ran into the grass, which made the boy fall off his board. He began screaming and yelling at the dog that looked scared. “What the hell are you doing? NO! NO!” he screamed, as the dog lay on the ground. I thought he was going to hit him, and I thought about intervening, but didn’t. The boy got on his board and grabbed hold of the leash, “NOW GO!” He yelled. The dog tripped over the leash and the dude fell again. I almost laughed out loud. Instant Karma. Eventually the dog figured it out, good for him. I hate that boy.
I could get lost watching these people and making up their life stories in my head, but that is not the real reason why I come here. Although Liberty Park may not be my ideal outdoor experience, it is the closest thing away from the traffic and consumerist society the lay outside of these joined blocks. I love to come here to get away, when I don’t actually have time to get out of town or into the mountains. Liberty Park is always here, cradling my memories and waiting for me to make new ones.
