Those who have walked through 228 park in the early morning hours will have at some time encountered a delightful old man who used to be at the entrance of the park. This man, in his 70's, would park his antiquated bicycle and remove a stack of papers from an equally antiquated leather briefcase strapped to the back of the bicycle. He'd then proceed to make paper airplanes for all that passed by. He's happily show you how to make them and how to fly them. He particularly delighted in teaching the art of paper airplanes to groups of school children on field trips to visit the museum.
To encounter him was to be bathed in a feeling of such natural warmth that I have yet to find words adequate to describe the experience. Over the last 5 years, he not only gave me hundreds of paper airplanes, but he even gave me a song he wrote for Mother's Day; he even sang it for me. It's not every day you get the opportunity to meet such a rare person. One late morning, on my way home I encountered him in his usual place in the park and had the chance to talk with him. It was a conversation that lasted an hour. He showed me pictures of his family, his daughters and his wife who recently passed away. He loves organ music and used to play organ in church. It was a remarkable afternoon.
I write this now because ever since the park was renovated, he has disappeared. I haven't seen him for many many months now and I feel the loss each time I pass the place he used to park his dilapidated bicycle. It occurs to me now that the park renovations may have made some nice changes to appearance of the park, but everyday I'm reminded of that which is missing.
- Paul
