My Best Moments on Earth

There is a certain age where wonderful things that you begin to do a number of times on your own become old hat. The first time I was in Central Park at night as a boy with my father and brother sleigh riding stands out as one of my best moments on earth.

Before we hit Cherry and Pilgrim Hills, we ran around and visited the things we loved, things we never saw in the dark before: Alice in Wonderland, Sailboat Lake, Hans Christian Anderson, and Balto the hero sled dog.

We saw what they saw at night, it was amazing. These images still burn light on the walls of my brain.

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Feeling in an English Beat mood, "I know I'm shouting, I like to shout."

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What Kids Dream

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Things Change, Some Don't

I'm fascinated by people giving the same thing different names. When I was young, Dad called a five dollar bill, "A Pound," he called our chase and capture game, Ringalario, Ringalevio. When I called it Ringalario, he'd get pissed and correct me.

The one place he and I agreed everything had the same name was Central Park. The great sleigh

ride hill on 79th Street was Cherry Hill. The dangerous sleigh ride on 72nd Street was Pilgrim Hill (easy, there's a statute of a Pilgrim on top the hill). The man made pond north of 72nd Street was Sailboat Lake not the crappy formal name, The Conservatory. The lake below the castle next to the Shakespeare theatre was called, Catfish Lake. Why? Dad, Mom, Rory and I fished the lake for catfish, Dad and Mom used Silvercup Bread for bait, Rory and I used Wonder Bread, we always threw the fish back in. Then there was the Reservoir and North Lake, and everything else was part of Rowboat Lake. When I'm in Central Park I get comfort knowing my benchmarks, but also enjoy letting myself go and pretending I'm in the deep woods, just like dad did.

Central Park Showing Off ~ Pilgrim Hill 1964

After the snowfall Saturday night, the City put on its winter best.

December 1964, It snowed days straight and remained cold during the beginning of Christmas break. Every day, we mushed through the streets with our sleds to Central Park. Our usual stop was Cherry Hill at 79th Street. But that year, we developed ten-year old guts and visited the tougher ride, Pilgrim Hill, at the 72nd Street.

Pilgrim Hill had rocks jutting out of it to hit or avoid, and a heavy-duty fence at the bottom of the ride. The fence had a missing section six feet wide where the older kids built up a berm allowing you to hit the walkway where another berm was added to lift you out and onto frozen Sailboat Lake to finish your ride.

If you were confident, stupid, or reckless the best ride in the park was touching the Pilgrim statue on top, flying over a few rocks on your sled, narrowly missing the fence on the bottom of the hill, along with a free trip to Lenox Hill's Emergency Room, then bouncing over the two berms onto the lake. Even the older kids nodded their heads in admiration if you nailed it.
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