Running for Your Life: Pioneer Park Slope

Here’s what comes to mind in Prospect Park, a short, vertical run from our house in what we call in Brooklyn Center Slope:

How the American custom of the covered wagon is replicated in the wheeled covered fort that is the Prospect Park baby carriage: where the legacy is not the hard, rawboned family of pioneer survivors but the cloistered privileged expectations of the all-too-often selfish sole family survivor.

During Jewish Holy Week, hundreds of Hasids, men and women, pray in their ecstatic, davining style, before the not-shallow Lake, their non-swimming children sitting cross-legged nearest the edge, to my eye, unattended.

This may be a period of time when the humidity and drought of this untypical summer has made for less-fertile trees, my prime example, our oak tree, which is producing radically less acorns than past years, but still these past weeks have produced at least some fruit of the golden ginkgo trees, special note the trail parallel to Prospect Park Southwest, the border of Windsor Terrace, where crouching Asians have been gathering a tenth of their usual crop of the vomit-smelling mush, making just a cameo performance during this strange season.

Running for Your Life: What’s Next on the Race Card