THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 25, 1996 TAG: 9602230199
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Random Rambles
SOURCE: Tony Stein
LENGTH: Medium: 81 lines
There are times, like when they fired City Manager Jim Rein, that I would not trust the Chesapeake City Council to govern nap time at the neighborhood kindergarten.
But then there are times when the legislators at the Cedar Road Weird Mahal do good. Very good. Like when they recently bought land for a park in Deep Creek. I'm happy because I think parks and libraries are among the noblest works of humankind. Right up there with pepperoni pizza and the ``mute'' button that lets you silence TV commercials.
Think about it. Parks first. What makes a park is that a city, a state, a country decides some bit of nature must be preserved. There must, in the middle of growth and hustle and getting and spending, be some place to play, to rest, to simply exist in peace. Wonderful notion.
As I write this, I'm thinking about two parks, one in Maine, the other in New York City. I went to Maine with three friends in the summer of 1947. We camped at Baxter State Park, surrounded by woods and creatures and splendid isolation. I remember riding with the park ranger as we followed a moose along a twisting forest road. I remember the night sounds, at once intriguing and relaxing and - occasionally - a little strange and scary to a city boy. Was that a bear?!
And, wow, do I remember the nice campers who gave me a big bite of Italian sausage. It was spicy hot enough to melt the polar ice cap and my leap for the nearest water source would have qualified me for the Olympics.
I went to New York University in the heart of the city. No ivy-covered buildings on a tree-lined campus. Just brick and concrete and a short stroll to the subway. But there was Washington Square Park, trees and benches and a smattering of grass around a broad fountain. And on a warm spring day, there would be students cracking books and moms airing babies and guitar players strumming and chess players pondering and a mellow perfume of vendors selling hot potato pancakes called knishes.
Here in Chesapeake, there is Northwest River Park. If you haven't been there, make it a stop on your first tour of the coming season. You can do energetic things there or you can just stroll a nature trail or maybe just sit and watch the sun make cascades of diamonds on the lake. Come to think of it, why wait for spring? The nature trails in winter are silent and secluded, perfect for detaching yourself from the irritations of the outside world.
And then there are libraries. Love 'em. Not dry, stuffy repositories of books where the only thing that stirs is the dust on the shelves. I was at the Central Library in Great Bridge on a Sunday some weeks ago and the sight would have made Benjamin Franklin grin from one side of his granny glasses to the other. Ben, when he wasn't busy flying kites, was a public library pioneer. (And even when he was a senior citizen representing America in Paris, he was a smash hit with the French ladies, but that's another story.)
Anyway, what I saw at our library was a whole cross-section of the community. From very young to very old, from blue jeans to business suits, from solemn concentration to animated conversation, a cheerful, lively buzz that said ``Brains at work.''
My love affair with libraries started in childhood. I had leg problems that immobilized me for a while so I widened the walls of my room with books. Childhood is when the reading habit should be established. That's why I loved watching parents leave the library with kids as young as pre-schoolers holding small stacks of books. They all seemed to be smiling, even laughing. Great lesson here: Going to the library is a pleasure.
Then when the kids get older, you know when term papers are due the next day because the library looks like an educational Grand Central Station. All over the place, books open, pens scratching across note paper and an occasional desperate face searching for the right text in the computerized catalog. And one great unspoken lament - ``Why didn't I start on this term paper two weeks ago?'' It was that way when I did my last term paper in 1951. I suppose it will still be that way in 2051.
Of course, by 2051, people may be reading off electronic screens and ``books'' may be those things that grandpa and grandma had on the shelves in the corner. Maybe, maybe not. Whatever happens, I gotta hope there will always be libraries to jump-start the mind and parks to soothe the soul. Libraries and parks are two creations that let you hope we've come a little beyond grunting at each other, living in caves and settling disputes with clubs. Although sometimes you wonder. by CNB