Sometimes I have difficulty staying in my own lane…especially
when that lane is covered in a squishy blue matting bordered by fake grass. Fake
grass in a state park. You better believe that I had a “hay day” with that
oxymoronic concept. “I really need to work on being more positive,” I confided
to my friend Rachel the other day. She wisely nodded but said nothing lest my
pessimistic petulance point at her.
It hadn’t helped that Brad and I had recently
decided to walk the dogs at our little town park. I was stunned at the
out-dated, rusted-out playground equipment and splinter-seated sports benches. I
stomped across the expanse of lawn that could accommodate a small aircraft
landing. “What do you expect them to do?” Brad asked, pulling a metal sliver
from his palm after a misguided try at the monkey bars. I vaguely wondered when
was the last time my husband had had a tetanus shot before envisioning a reasonable
plan for a Splash Pad and updated playground equipment. “Reasonable?” Brad
scoffed, “It’s a small town with a small town budget.” Government budgets, with
their ensnared, tangled marionette strings, exasperate me. Any system that
punishes conservation of funds is inherently corrupt. I considered editing the
entrance sign as we left from “Village Park” to “Village Parking Lot.”
This would, of course, be the same day when my state park
would unveil a two-million-dollar installation of an outdoor rec center that was funded by a grant initiative…I suspiciously contend that most grants lead to “Rome” as in “roaming in my wallet for taxpayer dollars.” Skeptically, I read the description of this
recreational area and wondered how many park patrons visited with the intent of
playing ping-pong and Pickle ball. “Why do you let yourself get so riled up?”
Brad muttered, now using his teeth to try and grasp the metal shard stuck in
his skin. “I’m not riled up,” I said, riled up.
“Where would you like to walk today?” my friend Deb asked
the next morning. “Oh…it doesn’t matter to me…your choice,” I said generously.
I listened as she made her selection before saying, “Sounds great! Or…”
Inexplicably, we ended up at the park to tour the new
outdoor facility. “What a great way to get some exercise while you're exercising!”
I exclaimed to the park employee who was there to check on grass growth. I was
understandably confused until he pointed out the actual grass that was
interspersed among the fake grass. How inventive!
Deb and I were, of course, delighted to get our picture in
the built-to-scale canoe set adrift in the lazy “river” walk-way of blue spongy
material. Why would anyone ever bother riding in an actual canoe when this one
is available? It’s not like there’s an accessible river nearby or anything.
We then raced (walked) to the exercise apparatuses
(apparati?). Thank goodness Deb has a rich background in physical education as
I contorted my body at odd angles in order to awkwardly work the machines. When
we were done “exercising,” we resumed our exercise.
“Where are we going now?”
Deb asked. “I heard that they blocked off the steps leading to the lower falls,”
I said grumpily, huffing in disgust as we approached the barrier. Deb inspected
the blockade before asking, “Would you have wanted to walk down?” “Well…no,” I admitted, “but that’s not the
point.”
On the way back, we encountered a new (to us, apparently)
playground…a woodland nirvana wrapped in Covid-caution tape. Why were Deb and I allowed unrestricted access to caper about the adult playground? “Is the new rec
center made of Corona-resistant material?” I wondered, itching to slip down a
sliver-free slide.
Forgive me for my jaded outlook…my disillusionment. Right
now, I am feeling rather peevish about what can be construed by some as unnecessary
funding when so many people across our county, state, and nation are in need. I
am frustrated by frivolous funding for recreation when so many were forced out
of their jobs. That actual fitness centers and gyms are still being restricted but some government official deemed this acceptable. I know…I know…the money was already allotted…the center will pay
for itself as countless people with a penchant for Pickleball will flock to the
park…people who otherwise wouldn’t go to the park will gladly cough up the
eight dollar entry fee to sit in canoe camped in the middle of tables with
embedded checker boards. King me! No...eff you...this is still a democracy (Isn't it?)!
I am being a jerk.
Because I had a blast touring the new outdoor rec center.
Sure, most of my fun was derived from making fun of it but that’s typical of
every activity of which I embark. I hope that my sarcasm doesn’t diminish your
enjoyment. You should absolutely enjoy it…because you helped pay for it. It was
just what the tax payer ordered. Wasn’t it?
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