Canady Park

by Jeff Miller

  With that seminal decision out of the way, Kevin felt like he had accomplished something. He said hello to the few people who walked by on the trail that ran in front of the bench. Surprisingly, nobody gave any sign of acknowledgment. He looked down at himself to see if there was something wrong with his appearance. Everything looked okay.

  Out of boredom he picked up a discarded candy bar wrapper. He held it in the air and watched it flop up and down in the afternoon breeze. He was about to drop the wrapper when he noticed that he had commanded the attention of a young couple who had been walking by.

  “Look at that!” said the young man,, pointing at the fluttering wrapper. The lady with him looked to where he pointed.

  “What is it?” she asked. They gazed directly at the candy bar wrapper.

  “It’s a piece of paper, or something,” said the young man. He approached Kevin, still focused on the candy bar wrapper. Then, he reached out and plucked the wrapper from Kevin’s fingers.

  “It was just floating there,” said the lady. She stepped closer to the man and wrapped her hands around his forearm. The two stood silently in front of Kevin and studied the wrapper.

  “Hello,” said Kevin. There was no indication that they had heard, or noticed him. Kevin was used to being overlooked due to his hesitant personality, but he had never in his life been flat out ignored as much as he had been today. The young man dropped the wrapper. They watched it float to the ground then drift across the trail on a breeze.

  “Weird,” said the young man.

  “Yeah. Really weird!” replied the young lady. At this, they turned and walked away, arm in arm.

  "Am I invisible?" Kevin shouted in frustration to no-one in particular.

  Kevin stewed for a while then let it go. He noticed for the first time a water tower sitting on the edge of the park. By the end of the following day Kevin had moved from the park bench to the top of the tower. At night a bank of bright ground lights were focused skyward around its circumference. This made it easy to read the scraps of magazines and newspapers he was able to collect from around the park. Kevin was not concerned that he would be seen moving around on the catwalk that encircled the green and white bulb of the tower. He had tentatively come to terms with the probability that he was indeed invisible, at least until he could come up with a better explanation.

  The water tower, he realized, was a definite improvement over the bench. This view was better than those from the high priced condos across the street. He could see the entire park from the west side of the tower. He found that sitting on the edge of the catwalk and dangling his legs over was extremely gratifying, and being able to observe people in complete anonymity was great fun.

  As he sat and observed the goings-on in Canady Park he noticed that, of the few folks who bothered to visit the park, most folks seemed content to just flow along, stopping here to look at a flower and there to admire a tree. Every now and then he noticed somebody scurrying through, looking out of place among the slower-moving folk. He felt sorry for these scurriers. Many times he himself had scurried through the park on his way here or there. For him it had been no more than a shortcut, a quicker way to get to somewhere else. He had been lost in his own hectic thoughts whenever he had passed through Canady Park. This was the first time that he had slowed down enough to see what was here.

  It suddenly struck Kevin that his mind was silent. The realization made him feel a little dizzy. He began to wonder if he shouldn't be analyzing some internal quandary or trying to gather up the detritus of his mind into a large pile, to be sifted through and extrapolated from. Perhaps this would be a better use of his time than sitting around watching people walk in the park. He had nearly convinced himself that this new-found contentment was ultimately bad for him when he saw a boy and a girl, hardly more than toddlers, waddling down the trail hand in hand, one supporting the other. A kind looking lady walked closely behind them, absorbed in the children's motions. On her face was a rare smile. Kevin recalled the metaphor 'glowing smile' and thought that it applied here. However, when he looked closer he realized that he was wrong about the metaphor part. The lady's smile radiated. It reflected some wonderfully real emotion happening within her. He realized he was smiling too. While he looked out over the park the seed of an idea unraveled its delicate roots in Kevin’s mind. He wasn't rehashing the past, nor was he digging through long dead memories this time. This was something new, and it was growing inside of him. He was beginning to believe that Canady park could be the most wonderful place in the city.

  He had been on the water tower for four days. Oddly, it was just now that he realized something very important. He hadn’t eaten anything, nor had he slept, since he had left his apartment. The weird thing was, he wasn’t hungry or tired. He felt fine. In fact, he felt better than he had in years. Upon discovering these facts he became a bit nervous. But that didn't last long. He conceded that there was nothing normal about his current situation to begin with, and chose to ignore these odd symptoms, at least for now. If he got hungry at some point, he reasoned, or noticed himself feeling bad, he would find some food and get some sleep. Until then, good riddance! Besides, Kevin had a plan.

  ~~~~~

  That evening he waited until the bells in the Methodist church belfry rang ten p.m., then he climbed down from the water tower. Kevin had sketched out a grid map of the park on a piece of half used notebook paper that he had picked up as it blew across the grass.

  He began at a place labeled "sector one" on his map. It was at the northeast corner of the park, on the riverfront. He pulled an old car tire from the mud of the riverbank and leaned it next to the garbage can by the walking trail. He retrieved debris, paper cups, wrappers and dead sticks that had fallen from the trees. He picked up all the little pieces of a paper plate that had been run over by a lawnmower. He deposited all of this into the garbage can. Occasionally a gaggle of boys, or a jogger would pass by. He would stop working until they had passed by, then he was back at it until the belfry clock struck four a.m.. At that point he returned to the water tower.

  Over the next few nights Kevin cleaned sectors two and three on his map. He was cleaning sector four when an old lady approached walking up the trail. He didn’t bother to hide. He stood at the side of the trail and waited for her to pass. She moved slowly. Her cane clicked on the pavement with every other step. Kevin whispered, “Have a good evening, Madam,” as she passed by. When she had gotten far enough up the trail, he resumed his work. He had nearly forgotten about the old lady when he heard an angry shout coming from somewhere up the trail. He looked to see if the old lady was still in sight.

  “Give it to me, you old bag!” he heard. “Give me the purse, or I’ll cut it out of your hand!”

  Kevin ran up the path as quietly as he could. He saw the same gaggle of boys he had seen on his first night of cleaning. One of the boys was pointing a knife at the old lady. He pushed her, and she fell to the pavement. The boys laughed as she hit the ground. Her scarf shot off of her head and landed on the trail. One of them kicked it into the dirt. The boy who had pushed the lady reached down and ripped the purse from her hand. At this, the boys turned in Kevin's direction and ran.

  Kevin held his ground and waited for them to reach him. When the boy with the purse arrived in front of him, Kevin extended his leg, tripping the boy. The purse flew from his hand and skidded into the woods as he nose-dived into the pavement.

  The fallen boy sat up slowly, groaning. He put a trembling hand to his face and wiped away the blood that ran freely from his crooked nose. Upon seeing his own blood he began whimpering. This quickly turned to sobs. The other boys stood silent, watching awkwardly and glancing at each other as their leader blubbered something incomprehensible about his mother. Finally, a boy laughed. The others joined in, and the first laughing boy trotted into the woods reappearing seconds later with the scuffed purse.

  “C’mon!” he yelled. “Leave the crybaby!”

  The gang simultaneously turne
d and followed the boy with the purse, who was now jogging down the trail. Kevin leaned over the crying boy who was still on the ground, and studied his injury, unobserved. The flow of blood was slowing. It appeared that he might have a broken nose, but Kevin thought he would be okay. Kevin stood and ran after the fleeing group of boys. He ran hard, not caring about making noise. Some of the boys heard his footfalls and turned to look just as he slammed into the rear of the pack with his full weight. Three boys went down. The boy with the purse stopped to see what was happening, then turned and bolted. Kevin got up and chased him. He was winded, and the boy was very fast, but Kevin caught up with him and tackled him. A loud pop sounded as they hit the pavement. He untangled himself from the boy as quickly as he could, and stood up. The boy stayed down.

  Kevin inspected himself for injuries. Just a scrape on his right forearm. Apparently, the boy had broken his fall. The boy remained on the ground clutching the purse. He wasn't more than twelve years old. His chin quivered on his pale face.

  The boy rose carefully from the ground and stumbled forward. He limped a little, then studied the scuffed purse in his hand for a few moments before he dropped it. The purse made a thud when it hit the ground, followed by a jingling sound as change rolled out onto the asphalt trail. The other boys ambled down the trail, including the one with the broken nose. Kevin stepped aside and watched as each boy walked warily around the purse then continued down the trail and disappeared into the darkness, none of them aware of his presence.

  Kevin picked the change up from the ground and put it back into the purse, then ran up the trail. The old lady was standing, her gray hair in a disheveled pile on her head. She looked down the trail toward Kevin. He expected to see terror, or a grimace of pain on her face. Instead, she seemed enthralled with wonderment, or amusement. He realized that he was still holding the purse, and started to put it down, then changed his mind. He slowly approached her. She watched, smiling, as her purse floated up the trail toward her. She extended her arm and gently grasped the handle. Then, she made a slow arthritic turn and resumed her dignified amble up the trail in the direction she had been heading, as if nothing had happened. Kevin followed her out of the park and a short way down Cape Hope Street to her apartment building. He watched to make sure that she made it safely up the steps and inside, then he headed back to the park. Along the side of the trail he spotted the old lady’s scarf. He picked it up, dusted it off, and folded it neatly, then put it into the back pocket of his jeans.

  On the nights that followed Kevin went about his business going sector by sector, night after night, cleaning up the park. Occasionally he found an old newspaper stuffed between the slats of a bench. This he would fold and put into his pocket so he would have something to read during the day.

  He had to be more cautious now. The park authorities had taken notice of his neat piles of trash and were interested in finding out who was responsible for them. Kevin noticed more police patrols in the park at night. They would shine their cruiser lights into the bushes and trees along the walking path. This presented no real problem for Kevin. He would simply stop what he was doing until the cruiser passed.

  A rumor, or myth - he didn’t know exactly what to call it – was developing. One day as Kevin sat on a park bench watching the people, he overheard two boys carrying skateboards and talking about the Ghost of Canady Park. This surprised, and delighted him. Normally his mind would have kicked into analysis mode at this point, but his mind had stopped doing that of late. Instead, he found a grassy place in the sun to relax and observe the arrangements of life that interwove and unraveled all around him.

  Later that day Kevin returned to the water tower. He still had some time before ten p.m. so he pulled one of the crumpled newspapers from his pocket. He started by reading the funnies and worked his way to the crossword puzzle. The topic was Movie Stars. Not one of Kevin’s strong points, but he ended up filling in half of the blocks before he had to give up. He grew bored with the paper and began folding it up when a picture caught his eye. He had seen it many times in another form. Originally it had been a picture of himself and his brother Matt. It was taken just before Matt left for Iraq. This was the last time Kevin saw his brother. Kevin kept the picture in a frame on the wall of his apartment. Now, the picture was cropped. It showed only Kevin’s face. Printed below the picture was a short statement:

  Thirty seven year old Kevin Landstreet

  was found comatose in his apartment at

  1474 Cape Hope Street on Thursday.

  He was taken to Morrisey

  General Hospital where he

  remains in critical condition.

  ~~~~~

  A month had passed since Kevin began cleaning up Canady Park, and he was now on the last sector of his grid map. He went about his work as thoroughly as usual, but there wasn’t very much to do in this sector. He was finished in an hour, so he decided to walk around the park and pick up any trash that had accumulated in the other sectors.

  Over the past month Kevin had noticed changes. There was less trash left on the ground at the end of each day. Children played on the playground and elderly people congregated around the park benches. An impromptu daily chess tournament had formed under the covered picnic tables by the river. Even the park department seemed to be getting involved. Two days earlier, as Kevin sat on the water tower watching the bustling park activities, he watched the lawnmower operator stop his mower and get off. He walked over to a piece of paper that lay in the path of his mower, picked it up and put it in his pocket, then went back to mowing. Now, as Kevin walked through the park, he felt pride. Some of this was for what he had accomplished, but he realized that he was even more proud of the people who used Canady Park.

  Kevin walked out the park entrance, down Cape Hope Street, then turned left at the corner of Seventeenth Avenue. He had no destination. The moon was bright this evening; the stars were alive. A warm breeze wafted across his body then continued its journey down the avenue. Kevin felt like he was glowing. He had plenty of glow to share and he wanted to share it with everybody.

  Finally he stopped walking. This seemed like the right place for that sort of thing. He filled his lungs with cool evening air, then looked around. He stood next to a tall building. A large, well-lit sign protruded from its facade. It read, “Morrisey General Hospital.” Kevin went inside.

  ~~~~~

  At Canady Park the children laughed. The old men sat on the new picnic tables that the park department had brought in. People strolled under the shade of the trees and stopped to look at the flowers. Gazebos were erected along the walking trail for artisans to display their crafts.

  Kevin Landstreet sat on a bench. Sunlight diffused through the leafy branches that swayed lazily above him and danced a golden tango of geometric shapes upon his shirt. He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since he had left the hospital that morning. His muscles were sore from disuse. The walk from the hospital to the park had tired him greatly. He closed his eyes.

  He must have fallen asleep, for when he opened his eyes someone was seated next to him on the bench.

  “Hello,” said Kevin.

  “Good afternoon,” replied an elderly lady. She smiled at him. He smiled back.

  “It’s a good day to be in the park,” he said.

  “Most agreeable,” nodded the lady. They sat quietly together on the park bench and absorbed the radiance of the day.

  After a while, Kevin reached into his back pocket. He carefully unfolded a rumpled scarf then offered it to the lady. She glanced at the scarf in Kevin's hand, smiled, then said, “they say this park is haunted.” She took the crumpled piece of cloth from Kevin, looked at it for a moment, then slid it into her scuffed purse.

  “Not anymore,” said Kevin.

  ###

  About the author:

  Jeff Miller is a Saint Petersburg, FL based author and artist.

  To learn more about the author please visit his website at:

  https://jeff
erymiller.webs.com

  A Cure For Over-thinking

  Kevin Landstreet's plight of over-thinking, which he eventually overcame, is all too real in society today. If you feel like you can't turn off all of the self defeating thoughts that run through your mind please read a free article about how I learned to deal with this problem: https://www.suite101.com/content/a-cure-for-over-thinking-a368119