WEBVTT 1 00:00:05.360 --> 00:00:08.919 The bandstand. Haze was just lifting early April sun, drying 2 00:00:08.960 --> 00:00:10.960 the dew from the lawn. As I made my way 3 00:00:11.000 --> 00:00:13.960 along the usual gravel path, I liked the way the 4 00:00:14.039 --> 00:00:17.000 lights sliced through the laurels, the way the chill clung 5 00:00:17.039 --> 00:00:19.879 to my cuffs, the sound of my own steps, softened 6 00:00:19.879 --> 00:00:23.800 by young grass. Retirement should have dulled such things, but 7 00:00:23.920 --> 00:00:27.160 in truth it had only sharpened certain senses and habits, 8 00:00:27.600 --> 00:00:30.839 the urge to walk, to count birds, to nod greetings 9 00:00:30.920 --> 00:00:35.000 at regulars on their routines. If I was particular about 10 00:00:35.039 --> 00:00:38.039 my park, I suppose it came from those years watching 11 00:00:38.079 --> 00:00:42.679 over it, cleaning the bandstand, checking bins, pruning the old 12 00:00:42.799 --> 00:00:45.479 roses at the front gate, and fixing the hooks on 13 00:00:45.560 --> 00:00:49.600 the south fence. It was my patch. I round the 14 00:00:49.640 --> 00:00:53.600 bandstand and spot her, young, bright scarf, a flash of energy. 15 00:00:53.960 --> 00:00:56.520 Never seen her before, but I know the regulars and 16 00:00:56.600 --> 00:00:59.759 welcome the new She ducks through a break in the laurels, 17 00:01:00.079 --> 00:01:03.600 quick as a wren and vanishes. I pause, expecting to 18 00:01:03.600 --> 00:01:05.719 see her thread on to the next path, but nothing. 19 00:01:06.200 --> 00:01:09.159 It's dense, holly back there, as I recall, not even 20 00:01:09.159 --> 00:01:12.280 a muddy track. The laurels are so thick a squirrel 21 00:01:12.280 --> 00:01:15.879 would think twice a jogger. One of the lean ones, 22 00:01:16.079 --> 00:01:19.280 appears between the two sycamores near the east lawn, his 23 00:01:19.359 --> 00:01:23.680 stride easy, face pink from the cold. I watch because 24 00:01:23.680 --> 00:01:27.159 I planted the lower sycamore myself years ago, and remember 25 00:01:27.200 --> 00:01:29.719 thinking then there never be much space between them for 26 00:01:29.760 --> 00:01:34.200 anything except root and shadow. Yet he emerges almost right 27 00:01:34.280 --> 00:01:36.719 between the trunks and heads out through the far edge, 28 00:01:37.079 --> 00:01:40.400 somewhere there shouldn't be an exit at all. He nips 29 00:01:40.400 --> 00:01:43.239 off down a little lane one I'm certain used to 30 00:01:43.239 --> 00:01:47.519 be just briars, without ever glancing back at me. Down 31 00:01:47.560 --> 00:01:50.719 the way, a grandfather and twin girls materialize, giggling from 32 00:01:50.760 --> 00:01:54.879 behind the pond, hair wild shoes trailing leaves. The girls 33 00:01:54.879 --> 00:01:59.000 skip ahead, racing for the swings. He comes behind, pushing 34 00:01:59.000 --> 00:02:01.840 open a narrow eye and gates set deep within a hedge, 35 00:02:02.000 --> 00:02:05.560 rusted intricate, with a battered medallion at the top. I 36 00:02:05.599 --> 00:02:08.199 have never, in my decades here seen that gate open. 37 00:02:08.639 --> 00:02:10.919 Most days, it looks more like a memory of a gate. 38 00:02:11.319 --> 00:02:14.639 Its hinges so rusted over. I once tried auling them 39 00:02:14.639 --> 00:02:18.360 and gave up. But there he is, letting it drift 40 00:02:18.479 --> 00:02:22.199 closed behind him, not a care in the world. When 41 00:02:22.199 --> 00:02:25.319 the girls have run on, and the grandfather s searching 42 00:02:25.360 --> 00:02:27.759 his pocket for something to bribe them off the swings, 43 00:02:28.080 --> 00:02:31.319 I walk over to investigate. The laurels where the young 44 00:02:31.360 --> 00:02:34.280 woman went are just a wall of green, barbed with 45 00:02:34.319 --> 00:02:38.520 holly spikes. No opening, not even a fox's gap. The 46 00:02:38.560 --> 00:02:41.599 sycamore roots are as twisted and gnarled as I left them, 47 00:02:41.759 --> 00:02:45.159 no sign of a path where the old iron gate 48 00:02:45.199 --> 00:02:49.159 should be. I inspect the hinges still fused with rust, 49 00:02:49.479 --> 00:02:51.680 and the gap just wide enough for the memory of 50 00:02:51.680 --> 00:02:55.280 a shadow, not for a person to fit through. I 51 00:02:55.360 --> 00:02:58.639 shake my head, mutter, am I just forgetful in retirement. 52 00:02:59.199 --> 00:03:01.800 Maybe it's a tricker the morning, but there's a tingle 53 00:03:01.879 --> 00:03:06.120 of something stranger, familiar, ground shifting just a bit. I 54 00:03:06.199 --> 00:03:09.360 walk on slower, making a new kind of mental note. 55 00:03:09.599 --> 00:03:12.560 How many exits do I actually see people using? Here? 56 00:03:12.599 --> 00:03:16.319 And now? As the morning rolls on, I spot a 57 00:03:16.400 --> 00:03:20.080 dog walker duck into a thicket I always thought impassable, 58 00:03:20.479 --> 00:03:23.240 And a couple waving good bye as they vanish behind 59 00:03:23.280 --> 00:03:27.199 a huddle of overgrown rhododendrons where there's no paved way 60 00:03:27.240 --> 00:03:30.159 at all. None of these a line with what I 61 00:03:30.199 --> 00:03:34.240 recall the main gate, broad and ironed the two side 62 00:03:34.240 --> 00:03:37.439 street entrances I'd locked and unlocked more times than I 63 00:03:37.479 --> 00:03:41.319 could count. Not a single one of these new exits 64 00:03:41.360 --> 00:03:44.360 lines up with my memory or the official gates I'd 65 00:03:44.360 --> 00:03:47.800 watched over with such pride. By the time I finish 66 00:03:47.840 --> 00:03:50.879 my circuit, the regular comfort of my morning routine has 67 00:03:50.919 --> 00:03:54.960 turned sharply curious. I sit on the bandstand steps, notebook 68 00:03:55.000 --> 00:03:58.080 in hand, that old leather bound thing I've hauled everywhere 69 00:03:58.120 --> 00:04:01.960 since my working life. In see are sketches of bird sightings, 70 00:04:02.159 --> 00:04:05.479 notes about garden repairs, a few thumbed pages where I've 71 00:04:05.520 --> 00:04:08.080 been counting something or other for the sake of order 72 00:04:08.560 --> 00:04:11.960 to day. I jot just one line, counted six departures, 73 00:04:12.199 --> 00:04:16.959 only three real gates. Makes no sense. Then I sit quietly, 74 00:04:17.360 --> 00:04:20.399 squinting at the baker's van reversing into the side street, 75 00:04:20.800 --> 00:04:23.480 wondering how the map in my head could be so faulty. 76 00:04:24.519 --> 00:04:26.600 If you'd ask me ten years ago, I could have 77 00:04:26.639 --> 00:04:30.720 sketched every path, marked, every proper exit, traced each rose 78 00:04:30.759 --> 00:04:34.480 bed's history. I'd rewired the lights in the bandstand myself. 79 00:04:34.920 --> 00:04:37.959 Yet this morning, the every day seems to contain gaps 80 00:04:37.959 --> 00:04:41.680 and slippages. I never learned to tend. I resolve quietly, 81 00:04:41.879 --> 00:04:45.319 almost sheepish, not to let it pass. The park doesn't 82 00:04:45.319 --> 00:04:47.360 get the better of me, not when I know every 83 00:04:47.399 --> 00:04:50.839 blade of it, Or so I thought. When I first 84 00:04:50.879 --> 00:04:54.279 started as groundskeeper, the park was something between a haven 85 00:04:54.439 --> 00:04:58.680 and a headache. A green square folded inside three residential lanes, 86 00:04:59.000 --> 00:05:02.240 its edges marked by houses with tidy gardens, an old 87 00:05:02.279 --> 00:05:06.240 bakery with sweet buns baking before dawn, and a crumbling alley. 88 00:05:06.279 --> 00:05:09.399 Behind the row of terraces. There was the broad iron 89 00:05:09.480 --> 00:05:12.639 front gate, which we kept locked at night, shining at 90 00:05:12.680 --> 00:05:16.720 either side with vine motifs so elaborate no graffiti dared 91 00:05:16.839 --> 00:05:21.600 linger two side gates, less grand faced onto cross streets, 92 00:05:22.079 --> 00:05:24.920 a blue painted picket on one side and a mild 93 00:05:25.040 --> 00:05:28.319 green arch on the other, both half swallowed by privet, 94 00:05:28.639 --> 00:05:33.240 dependably sticking in wet weather. Within the park's interior was 95 00:05:33.240 --> 00:05:37.160 a familiar patchwork, a looping walking path, an oval lawn 96 00:05:37.199 --> 00:05:40.680 for games and picnics, the duck pond, whose population I 97 00:05:40.759 --> 00:05:44.000 knew by names breeds and squabbles, and the proud oak 98 00:05:44.079 --> 00:05:47.319 I had planted my first year. A scraggly sapling In 99 00:05:47.399 --> 00:05:52.560 those days, the central bandstand, painted annually in institutional white, 100 00:05:52.800 --> 00:05:56.279 doubled as stage and goal post depending on the day's crowd. 101 00:05:57.399 --> 00:06:01.519 Our display beds, tulips in march, roses in June, a 102 00:06:01.600 --> 00:06:05.160 riot of lilies in high summer were my favorite workplace. 103 00:06:05.800 --> 00:06:08.839 I remember the meticulous way I marked which bulbs took, 104 00:06:09.120 --> 00:06:13.920 which suffered the city's unremarkable pigeons, and the local dog's enthusiasm. 105 00:06:14.959 --> 00:06:17.600 Retirement for me was not a wrench. I'd stayed on 106 00:06:17.720 --> 00:06:20.759 as long as the knees and patience permitted. Now I 107 00:06:20.839 --> 00:06:24.199 walk most mornings, sometimes pausing to note a surprise flash 108 00:06:24.279 --> 00:06:26.560 of a gold crest in the yew hedge, or the 109 00:06:26.600 --> 00:06:29.319 sudden feverello of the witch hazel by the north fence. 110 00:06:29.839 --> 00:06:33.240 A notebook, once for official logs of paint orders and 111 00:06:33.279 --> 00:06:37.120 dead heading schedules, now holds sketches of odd fungi and 112 00:06:37.160 --> 00:06:41.439 the occasional plea from a neighbor. Look after missus Granville's camellias? 113 00:06:41.480 --> 00:06:46.000 Would you missus? Granville herself is a fixture, always steering 114 00:06:46.079 --> 00:06:49.199 a stroller or shepherding the grand children. Hair in a 115 00:06:49.199 --> 00:06:52.959 bun as soft and orderly as hawthorn leaves, She greets 116 00:06:53.000 --> 00:06:57.040 me with the same warm good morning mister Lewis every time, 117 00:06:57.279 --> 00:07:00.759 no matter the hour. Oh Mar, the h school cross 118 00:07:00.800 --> 00:07:05.040 country runner is a different breed, bounding, cheerful, trailing a 119 00:07:05.079 --> 00:07:08.920 cloud of competition behind him. In neon shoes, he times 120 00:07:08.959 --> 00:07:13.120 himself along the loop, often waving phone in hand, breath 121 00:07:13.160 --> 00:07:18.720 coming sharp and eager. Sylvia Saturday's sketchbook devotee sets up 122 00:07:18.720 --> 00:07:21.560 by the pond, her hair streaked with gray, but a 123 00:07:21.639 --> 00:07:25.800 laughter carrying like chimes across the water. She's drawn every 124 00:07:25.879 --> 00:07:28.759 corner of the place, swears the willow by the bog 125 00:07:29.000 --> 00:07:33.000 has a kinder face than anyone she knows most days. 126 00:07:33.120 --> 00:07:37.000 Eddie joins me, my friend from park days now Semma attired, 127 00:07:37.279 --> 00:07:40.360 still acting as the city's park supervisor in name, if 128 00:07:40.360 --> 00:07:44.519 only part time. We swap tails, a broken fence post, 129 00:07:44.839 --> 00:07:48.480 a batch of missing daffodils, the endless contest with moles. 130 00:07:49.079 --> 00:07:51.839 Eddie's memory for deadlines is as poor as his jokes, 131 00:07:52.160 --> 00:07:54.759 but his sense for the park is second only to mine, 132 00:07:55.079 --> 00:07:58.879 or so he claims. The park is cocooned by quiet 133 00:07:59.360 --> 00:08:02.480 currant bush spill from a row of old semis an 134 00:08:02.519 --> 00:08:06.720 alley marks the rear the wild edge, often overlooked except 135 00:08:06.720 --> 00:08:10.319 by pigeons and the odd teenager in summer seeking privacy. 136 00:08:11.399 --> 00:08:13.959 On the north wall, a mural faded by years of 137 00:08:14.079 --> 00:08:18.240 rain displays the city's parks and squares, their winding paths, 138 00:08:18.360 --> 00:08:23.040 painted blue entrances marked by hopeful gold stars. I had 139 00:08:23.040 --> 00:08:25.639 a fondness for that mural. Used to touch up the 140 00:08:25.639 --> 00:08:29.439 plints myself, always careful never to add or subtract a 141 00:08:29.519 --> 00:08:33.759 thing from the official design. I like keeping lists, always 142 00:08:33.799 --> 00:08:38.399 have unusual bird sightings, weather quirks, complaints about the grass 143 00:08:38.440 --> 00:08:41.759 too long. For decades, it kept my mind tidy, my 144 00:08:41.840 --> 00:08:45.480 work accounted for. It's a habit that, now, of all mornings, 145 00:08:45.679 --> 00:08:49.279 seems as useful for memory as for order. So it 146 00:08:49.320 --> 00:08:51.879 strikes me as no small thing to day when these 147 00:08:51.960 --> 00:08:55.799 casual observations, the girl in the scarf, the jogger by 148 00:08:55.840 --> 00:08:59.279 the sycamores, the grandfather emerging where there is no gait, 149 00:08:59.679 --> 00:09:04.240 nibble at my sense of reality. Suddenly my routine's solidity 150 00:09:04.279 --> 00:09:08.399 falls open at the seams. Another day, another sunny morning, 151 00:09:08.639 --> 00:09:11.840 but something in my step feels off. With notebook in hand, 152 00:09:12.120 --> 00:09:16.320 I pay closer attention, booking each departure, every entrance. Here 153 00:09:16.720 --> 00:09:19.879 as the bakery's delivery boy slipping out behind the tool shed. 154 00:09:20.159 --> 00:09:23.080 A gang of teens vanishing behind a now familiar privet. 155 00:09:23.440 --> 00:09:26.159 I chart each one, seeing that by noon, not a 156 00:09:26.200 --> 00:09:28.919 single soul seems to favor only the three gates I 157 00:09:29.000 --> 00:09:33.240 recall as official paths are opening, or at least appearing. 158 00:09:33.279 --> 00:09:37.720 To the jogger, Omar is running again, bright and fast. 159 00:09:38.200 --> 00:09:40.840 I watch as he peels off along the grass and vanishes, 160 00:09:41.200 --> 00:09:44.279 ducking into dense undergrowth I know to be thickly tangled. 161 00:09:44.799 --> 00:09:47.759 I've cut back privet there each spring, leaving the knots 162 00:09:47.759 --> 00:09:50.200 so impassable. I used to joke not even the local 163 00:09:50.240 --> 00:09:54.600 foxes bothered. But Omar slips through, bright as sunrise and 164 00:09:54.679 --> 00:09:59.240 doesn't emerge. I squint later, as I finish my lap, 165 00:09:59.519 --> 00:10:01.960 I see him waving as he jogs off down a 166 00:10:02.000 --> 00:10:05.679 little lane I swear didn't exist, a lane that should 167 00:10:05.679 --> 00:10:09.320 have ended in some one's compost heap. Driven by a 168 00:10:09.360 --> 00:10:13.600 sharper curiosity than usual, I shuffle over, feigning examination of 169 00:10:13.639 --> 00:10:16.440 the flower bed where I watched Omar goo. There's only 170 00:10:16.480 --> 00:10:19.759 a shallow depression in the earth, a faint hollow, no 171 00:10:19.960 --> 00:10:25.080 real trail, just pressed grass, quickly rebounding I stroll back 172 00:10:25.120 --> 00:10:29.519 toward the swings and bump into Missus Granville. She smiles, wrinkles, 173 00:10:29.559 --> 00:10:34.799 folding kindly. Lovely morning, isn't it it is? I agree 174 00:10:35.000 --> 00:10:38.159 you're early to day. Oh we came in the back 175 00:10:38.200 --> 00:10:41.399 gate by the bakery saves so much time with the pram. 176 00:10:42.039 --> 00:10:44.879 She gestures, matter of factly toward a corner hemmed by 177 00:10:44.960 --> 00:10:49.039 thorns and nettles. Stand always use that one, Lewis, Have 178 00:10:49.120 --> 00:10:53.200 you forgotten? The assertion knocks looser pebble In my mind? 179 00:10:53.639 --> 00:10:56.600 There is no such gait by the bakery. I've stood 180 00:10:56.639 --> 00:11:01.279 there unlocking and relocking, pruning every bush for decades. There's 181 00:11:01.279 --> 00:11:04.320 only chain link bramble, and the memory of a long 182 00:11:04.360 --> 00:11:08.440 gone compost shed. Is that? So? I try to keep 183 00:11:08.440 --> 00:11:12.919 my tone polite, She laughs. You'll get used to retirement, Lewis. 184 00:11:13.399 --> 00:11:15.840 Everything feels a little moved around when you're not the 185 00:11:15.919 --> 00:11:19.360 keeper of the keys. But as I walk away, the 186 00:11:19.399 --> 00:11:23.159 contradiction blooms in my mind. My notebook makes no mention 187 00:11:23.279 --> 00:11:26.000 of a back gate. The only records are the main 188 00:11:26.240 --> 00:11:30.440 entrance and side gates. Yet Missus Granville, sharp in all things, 189 00:11:30.679 --> 00:11:34.519 is perfectly sure. Just to check. I stroll to the 190 00:11:34.559 --> 00:11:39.080 park's central kiosk, a relic of nineteen seventy's optimism, displaying 191 00:11:39.120 --> 00:11:42.720 a city map under cloudy perspecs. The mural shows three 192 00:11:42.720 --> 00:11:47.360 gold star entrances, as it always did. No bakery, adjacent path, 193 00:11:47.519 --> 00:11:50.840 no secret lane. I trace my finger over each star, 194 00:11:51.200 --> 00:11:55.399 feeling a faint irritation. I question one or two others. 195 00:11:55.639 --> 00:11:58.960 A dog walker, a lad with a skateboard. Each name's 196 00:11:58.960 --> 00:12:02.320 a path or exit. I cannot place. Some mention the 197 00:12:02.399 --> 00:12:06.360 gap by the chestnuts, others the old orchard row. I 198 00:12:06.399 --> 00:12:08.960 dig out my records, running a finger along the list 199 00:12:09.039 --> 00:12:13.240 of complaints, calls for repairs, lost keys, always three gates, 200 00:12:13.279 --> 00:12:17.879 no more. As the morning draws on, something in me shifts. 201 00:12:17.879 --> 00:12:21.240 My decades of certainty. The small town's regimen of order 202 00:12:21.480 --> 00:12:25.759 now feel inexplicably porous. My own memory, the official maps, 203 00:12:26.000 --> 00:12:28.399 the stories of people who use this park every day. 204 00:12:28.799 --> 00:12:32.120 They all stand apart, each insisting on its own version 205 00:12:32.159 --> 00:12:35.519 of reality. What unnerves me is not the possibility I 206 00:12:35.559 --> 00:12:38.440 have forgotten, but the ease with which everyone else is 207 00:12:38.480 --> 00:12:41.559 so calmly sure of roots that never matched the map 208 00:12:41.600 --> 00:12:45.559 I carried. The contradiction sits inside me like a pebble 209 00:12:45.799 --> 00:12:50.360 in a well worn shoe, small but sharply persistent on 210 00:12:50.399 --> 00:12:53.960 my kitchen table, beside the faded flower catalogs in overdue 211 00:12:54.000 --> 00:12:57.399 gas bill, I open my old Field notebook again. I 212 00:12:57.519 --> 00:13:00.759 draw the park as I remember it, rectangles for the lawns, 213 00:13:00.919 --> 00:13:05.320 the bandstand, a sketchy oval, three neatly boxed entrances. Then 214 00:13:05.399 --> 00:13:08.399 with a red pen, I mark the other exits people 215 00:13:08.440 --> 00:13:12.399 speak about by the bakery, the laurels, the unfathomable lane. 216 00:13:12.840 --> 00:13:16.879 My drawing groves cluttered, uneasy, as if resisting my attempt 217 00:13:16.879 --> 00:13:20.200 to pin it down. Over the next several days, I 218 00:13:20.240 --> 00:13:22.919 make a point to walk at odd hours, early before 219 00:13:22.960 --> 00:13:25.919 the school run, at dusk while the bats are coming out, 220 00:13:26.240 --> 00:13:29.360 even after rain, when only the truly devoted venture out. 221 00:13:29.840 --> 00:13:32.399 Each time, I stop by those spots where someone claimed 222 00:13:32.399 --> 00:13:35.000 an exit or entrance, a brake in the hedge, a 223 00:13:35.080 --> 00:13:39.200 muddy gap, a rumored back lane. I try discreetly to follow. 224 00:13:39.919 --> 00:13:44.000 Once the bakery's youngest helper, a lad with ink stained hands, 225 00:13:44.240 --> 00:13:46.879 cuts through the roses and vanishes where there's only a 226 00:13:46.879 --> 00:13:52.000 wall of bramble. Another time, Sylvia herself arrives, waving a 227 00:13:52.080 --> 00:13:55.200 sketch book, stepping lively from the corner near the pond, 228 00:13:55.480 --> 00:13:59.200 where just last month there was only fence. I try 229 00:13:59.240 --> 00:14:03.000 to follow, pushing through branches, shoes wet with morning dew. 230 00:14:03.600 --> 00:14:07.320 Sometimes I find a faint path, soft earth pressed by foot, 231 00:14:07.720 --> 00:14:10.559 only to twist and end abruptly in a pool of shadow, 232 00:14:10.720 --> 00:14:13.279 or a tangle so thick it may as well be iron. 233 00:14:13.960 --> 00:14:17.480 Sometimes there's nothing, no trace of passage, not even a 234 00:14:17.519 --> 00:14:21.480 disturbance in the grass. I try to photograph the stranger 235 00:14:21.519 --> 00:14:25.120 gaps once or twice. The pictures are smeared, a blurry 236 00:14:25.120 --> 00:14:27.600 suggestion of a gate or break in the hedge, but 237 00:14:27.720 --> 00:14:31.720 nothing you d wager on. Other photos show only green, 238 00:14:32.120 --> 00:14:37.759 ordinary unchanged. Curiosity prods me beyond mere witness. I approach 239 00:14:37.799 --> 00:14:41.360 Sylvia one Saturday, watching her sketch along the pond's rim. 240 00:14:42.000 --> 00:14:44.799 Do you walk in the same way every week? I ask, 241 00:14:45.080 --> 00:14:48.919 careful to keep my tone light. Oh no, she laughs. 242 00:14:49.200 --> 00:14:51.799 I like the old arched gate in the northeast, the 243 00:14:51.840 --> 00:14:55.440 way the morning sun hits. It's perfect for sketches, she 244 00:14:55.559 --> 00:15:00.120 points vaguely. I peer across the pond. There the bound 245 00:15:00.320 --> 00:15:03.639 is an unbroken brick wall crumbling at the top, spotted 246 00:15:03.679 --> 00:15:07.440 with moss, which gait I ask as neutrally as a 247 00:15:07.440 --> 00:15:11.759 man can. Right there by the willows, she insists, eyes 248 00:15:11.840 --> 00:15:16.399 warm in memory, always unlocked in spring. For her, the 249 00:15:16.440 --> 00:15:20.840 gate is real familiar. For me, there's only wall. I 250 00:15:20.879 --> 00:15:24.399 take to my old computer at home, hoping for sanity's rescue. 251 00:15:24.720 --> 00:15:27.440 On line maps, it turns out are no more settled 252 00:15:27.480 --> 00:15:30.919 than memory. Some show our park with three entrances the 253 00:15:31.080 --> 00:15:35.519 arrangement I know. Others, including a popular tourist site, mark five, 254 00:15:35.919 --> 00:15:38.639 or even place a tiny blue symbol at each corner 255 00:15:38.639 --> 00:15:42.720 for access points, totaling eight. On a cycling app, someone 256 00:15:42.799 --> 00:15:46.080 logged a route cleaning through the orchard gap, a path 257 00:15:46.120 --> 00:15:49.279 I have never set foot on. I download a few 258 00:15:49.320 --> 00:15:54.600 satellite images in some faint lines, possibly foot trodden, possibly 259 00:15:54.720 --> 00:15:59.039 storm scars, suggest paths cutting through the borders at odd spots, 260 00:15:59.480 --> 00:16:02.879 but the most recent official city image shows only three 261 00:16:03.000 --> 00:16:06.840 clear outlets to the outside world. When I take these 262 00:16:06.879 --> 00:16:10.559 odd findings to Eddie, my former supervisor, he only chuckles, 263 00:16:11.159 --> 00:16:14.840 you know how parks are. Fences go up, brambles close in. 264 00:16:15.240 --> 00:16:18.960 Sometimes folks make their own route. Maybe someone clipped a 265 00:16:19.039 --> 00:16:22.399 hedge when you weren't looking, But I don't recall ever 266 00:16:22.480 --> 00:16:26.600 missing such a change, not once in thirty three years, 267 00:16:27.240 --> 00:16:30.519 wanting something firmer, I walk down to the public worksteppo. 268 00:16:30.960 --> 00:16:33.639 They let me root through the archives, an airless room 269 00:16:33.679 --> 00:16:37.159 with blueprints in battered wooden drawers, each folder stuffed and 270 00:16:37.240 --> 00:16:41.320 leafed from decades of revisions. The earliest plan, faded and foxed, 271 00:16:41.480 --> 00:16:45.600 shows four gates. Next, a nineteen fifty seven plan marks six. 272 00:16:46.080 --> 00:16:50.879 A nineteen seventies diagram for playground expansion boasts additional access points, 273 00:16:51.240 --> 00:16:55.320 at least five, with a scrawled note more required. There 274 00:16:55.360 --> 00:16:59.039 are maintenance logs referencing repairs to West Wicket, though no 275 00:16:59.120 --> 00:17:02.360 such structure exis on any drawing. I know the city's 276 00:17:02.440 --> 00:17:06.160 records Clark a tired man with biscuit crumbs trailing his 277 00:17:06.240 --> 00:17:10.960 tie shrugs. Parks always get redone, sometimes they add a gait, 278 00:17:11.319 --> 00:17:14.880 sometimes they seal one. It's just how cities go. I 279 00:17:14.920 --> 00:17:18.279 wouldn't trust half of what's written down depends who's writing it. 280 00:17:19.400 --> 00:17:21.799 In the course of a week of amassed more contradictions 281 00:17:21.839 --> 00:17:24.960 than clarity. On the one hand, I have lived experience, 282 00:17:25.119 --> 00:17:28.319 keys and locks hedges, I myself trimmed. On the other, 283 00:17:28.359 --> 00:17:32.640 I have living witnesses, neighbors, dog walkers, children, crossing boundaries. 284 00:17:32.680 --> 00:17:37.599 I can't see maps disagree, blueprints shift, satellite images contradict 285 00:17:37.599 --> 00:17:41.880 one another. Folk are unconcerned. When asked, they shrug and smile, 286 00:17:42.160 --> 00:17:44.920 treating their own roots as the norm, their own gates 287 00:17:44.960 --> 00:17:49.039 as if they've always belonged. The oddness is there quietly, 288 00:17:49.359 --> 00:17:52.799 and so is my growing frostration. At times I think 289 00:17:52.799 --> 00:17:57.200 it's the city playing tricks, some collective misremembering. At others 290 00:17:57.440 --> 00:18:00.839 I wonder if it's simply me memory slipper, the world 291 00:18:00.880 --> 00:18:05.599 outgrowing the old keeper's certainties. But it's not just my mind. 292 00:18:05.720 --> 00:18:09.519 I see the distances shifting. One morning, the bandstand seems 293 00:18:09.559 --> 00:18:12.200 closer to the south path than the day before, as 294 00:18:12.200 --> 00:18:16.119 if the lawn has shrunk. The oak I planted years ago, 295 00:18:16.240 --> 00:18:19.000 always at the very edge, now stands a few feet 296 00:18:19.039 --> 00:18:22.000 further in between the ancient chestnut and what used to 297 00:18:22.039 --> 00:18:25.319 be the fence line. I am cautious with these impressions, 298 00:18:25.599 --> 00:18:28.599 telling myself not to make too much of tricks of perspective. 299 00:18:29.599 --> 00:18:32.720 But when I ask neighbors about such changes, more often 300 00:18:32.759 --> 00:18:36.319 than not they laugh, teasing Lewis, You're finally catching on 301 00:18:36.720 --> 00:18:40.200 This park loves to change shape, or we all got 302 00:18:40.200 --> 00:18:43.000 lost here once as kids. It's what parks are for, 303 00:18:44.119 --> 00:18:47.240 a mild sense of being left behind or outside. Some 304 00:18:47.400 --> 00:18:51.119 ongoing joke nips at me. It would be one thing 305 00:18:51.119 --> 00:18:54.920 if people disagreed, but instead each is utterly at home 306 00:18:54.960 --> 00:18:58.359 with their version. They call their own memory factual and 307 00:18:58.440 --> 00:19:01.400 respond to mine with gentle belief, as if I am 308 00:19:01.400 --> 00:19:04.720 the sole practitioner of error. Yet no two of them 309 00:19:04.799 --> 00:19:07.839 quite agree, and none of their versions match the city's 310 00:19:07.839 --> 00:19:12.480 plat or my own recollections. It isn't fear. The park 311 00:19:12.559 --> 00:19:16.559 isn't malicious, merely more complicated than I believed. The more 312 00:19:16.559 --> 00:19:19.799 I observe, the more it delights and baffles me. But 313 00:19:19.880 --> 00:19:24.039 beneath the delight, the need to understand grows persistent. The 314 00:19:24.119 --> 00:19:27.200 knowledge I thought I had mastered, the orderly lists have 315 00:19:27.279 --> 00:19:31.720 started to crumble at their edges. One misty afternoon, drizzling, 316 00:19:32.039 --> 00:19:34.440 I resolve that the real question is not how many 317 00:19:34.480 --> 00:19:39.200 exits the park truly holds. Instead, something stranger is at work. 318 00:19:39.680 --> 00:19:42.680 Why do people remember the park differently, each with their 319 00:19:42.720 --> 00:19:46.640 own firm conviction and root. How does a place fixed 320 00:19:46.680 --> 00:19:49.839 in earth and city plan become so fluid in every 321 00:19:49.920 --> 00:19:53.920 day use? I ring Eddy invite him for coffee at 322 00:19:53.920 --> 00:19:57.880 the bakery. Eddie, balding and bright eyed, shrugs off his 323 00:19:57.960 --> 00:20:01.599 coat and settles in opposite me, ug in hand. You're 324 00:20:01.599 --> 00:20:06.519 looking hunted, Lewis your ducks turning invisible? Worse than that? 325 00:20:07.000 --> 00:20:10.400 I say, sliding over my notebook, the scrawled maps, the 326 00:20:10.440 --> 00:20:13.960 list of exit claims, half a dozen photos, both clear 327 00:20:14.039 --> 00:20:17.720 and useless. Tell me how many entrances does the park 328 00:20:17.839 --> 00:20:23.160 really have? Eddie? He's quick? Five always five main gates 329 00:20:23.240 --> 00:20:26.279 two side one at the bakery, little wicket by orchard row. 330 00:20:26.759 --> 00:20:30.960 You've worked there longer, no only ever kept keys to three. 331 00:20:31.319 --> 00:20:35.119 Never saw a gate by the bakery, not once? You 332 00:20:35.200 --> 00:20:38.839 must have missed it. I lay out my stack of maps, 333 00:20:39.000 --> 00:20:43.400 online print outs, photos of hedgerows and walls. I describe 334 00:20:43.400 --> 00:20:48.440 Missus Granville's certainty, point out the discrepancy between records, physical evidence, 335 00:20:48.559 --> 00:20:52.839 and neighborhood ritual. For a minute, Eddie frowns, scratching the 336 00:20:52.880 --> 00:20:56.799 side of his jaw. Well, records are always a mess. 337 00:20:57.160 --> 00:21:00.920 People put up new gates, city closes them again. Maybe 338 00:21:00.920 --> 00:21:04.160 there's an old gate there bricked over, Or maybe people 339 00:21:04.319 --> 00:21:08.640 liked walking through and remembered it different. I challenge, will 340 00:21:08.680 --> 00:21:11.359 you come walk it? With me. We'll check each exit, 341 00:21:11.599 --> 00:21:17.079 every supposed one. No skipping. He grins, thrusts his mug aside. 342 00:21:17.400 --> 00:21:21.240 All right, Lewis, let's go map your ghosts. The walk 343 00:21:21.359 --> 00:21:25.559 is careful, almost ceremonial. We march the park's edges, checking 344 00:21:25.599 --> 00:21:29.680 every known gate, Maine Side, bakery fence, Orchard Lane where 345 00:21:29.720 --> 00:21:32.680 the dog walker claimed a secret way. We find only 346 00:21:32.720 --> 00:21:35.720 a matted patch of grass by the bakery, nothing but 347 00:21:35.839 --> 00:21:39.359 old chain link untouched. Yet as we circle the far side, 348 00:21:39.440 --> 00:21:42.559 we stumble on an odd, narrow path, well worn, muddy, 349 00:21:42.960 --> 00:21:47.039 a lively use suggesting feet pass here often. The path 350 00:21:47.160 --> 00:21:50.240 runs up to a stretch of pale fence, no exit, 351 00:21:50.559 --> 00:21:54.279 nothing but boards nailed firm. Yet as we stand, a 352 00:21:54.319 --> 00:21:58.119 woman with two terriers rounds the corner from outside, Emerging 353 00:21:58.160 --> 00:22:01.680 as if from thin air. She recognizes Eddie waves and 354 00:22:01.759 --> 00:22:05.759 gestures to nowhere in particular morning, using the old way 355 00:22:05.759 --> 00:22:09.640 out by Orchard Row. We nod as if we understand. 356 00:22:10.200 --> 00:22:13.160 As she walks off, I trail my hand along the fence. 357 00:22:13.319 --> 00:22:16.519 Solid but there's a give, as though the park itself 358 00:22:16.559 --> 00:22:21.079 is listening. Eddie looking less certain mutters didn't expect that. 359 00:22:22.240 --> 00:22:25.279 We finish our circuit on the bandstand, I close my 360 00:22:25.359 --> 00:22:29.279 note book, resting it on my knee. Eddie says, may 361 00:22:29.279 --> 00:22:32.440 be memories, the wrong tool here, or maybe the park's 362 00:22:32.440 --> 00:22:36.000 got its own mind for an an doubt. Night falls 363 00:22:36.039 --> 00:22:39.039 before we disperse, and as I head home the old 364 00:22:39.119 --> 00:22:43.079 sense of certainty has turned curiously poorous. I sit by 365 00:22:43.079 --> 00:22:47.160 the window, thinking not just about forgotten keys or maintenance errors, 366 00:22:47.400 --> 00:22:51.200 but about an uncertainty that seems larger than any individual lapse, 367 00:22:51.599 --> 00:22:54.720 something that weaves through the bones of the neighborhood. Maybe 368 00:22:54.799 --> 00:22:58.039 not memory at all, maybe something that can't be pinned 369 00:22:58.079 --> 00:23:02.759 down at all. Week later, clutching my latest sketches and 370 00:23:02.799 --> 00:23:06.440 a folder of mismatched maps, I attend the monthly gathering 371 00:23:06.480 --> 00:23:10.440 of the neighborhood's historical Society. It's held in the community Hall, 372 00:23:10.920 --> 00:23:14.920 a musty side room where local history lives in cardboard boxes, 373 00:23:15.359 --> 00:23:18.680 displays of black hand white class photos, and a few 374 00:23:18.720 --> 00:23:23.279 tarnished trophies from cricket matches. Long past to night, I 375 00:23:23.319 --> 00:23:26.559 bring my stack of print outs and a small voice recorder, 376 00:23:26.880 --> 00:23:30.400 determined to press the question. There's friendly chatter as the 377 00:23:30.440 --> 00:23:33.400 group settles, a mix of old hands and a few 378 00:23:33.400 --> 00:23:37.039 young volunteers, eager for something to do on a rainy Thursday. 379 00:23:38.119 --> 00:23:41.359 I open with my query, how many entrances did this 380 00:23:41.440 --> 00:23:44.200 park used to have when you were young? I pass 381 00:23:44.240 --> 00:23:48.319 around a few maps. The answers are anything but simple. 382 00:23:49.279 --> 00:23:53.440 Old Missus Price, sharp in memory, declares seven, at least 383 00:23:53.839 --> 00:23:57.039 one for every direction. But the sky Mum used to 384 00:23:57.039 --> 00:23:59.440 fetch us home by the Apple Lane, and there was 385 00:23:59.440 --> 00:24:02.319 a little eye gate behind the old rectory, though it's 386 00:24:02.359 --> 00:24:05.799 gone now. Mister Singh, who moved to the area in 387 00:24:05.839 --> 00:24:10.440 the seventies, produces a festival parade flier nine gates circuit. 388 00:24:10.640 --> 00:24:14.039 He reads runners to check in at each entrance. He 389 00:24:14.119 --> 00:24:17.240 smacks the page with a grin. We always had more 390 00:24:17.240 --> 00:24:20.880 than three, all fully signed. In seventy eight, I recall 391 00:24:22.000 --> 00:24:26.680 Elizabeth the librarian brandishes a photograph faded into grayish pollen. 392 00:24:27.200 --> 00:24:30.359 It shows children streaming through a line of gates, the 393 00:24:30.480 --> 00:24:34.839 sign above reading Eastwood Park Welcome. She counts with a pen, 394 00:24:35.319 --> 00:24:39.079 ending at seven arches before they fenced in the tennis courts. 395 00:24:39.119 --> 00:24:44.119 I think a low argument starts gentle but insistent. Each 396 00:24:44.160 --> 00:24:46.960 has a narrative that won't quite match the others. The 397 00:24:47.000 --> 00:24:51.400 mood is festive rather than combative. Everyone swapping stories comparing 398 00:24:51.480 --> 00:24:55.079 remembered routes, quibbling about the order of remove or addition. 399 00:24:55.759 --> 00:24:59.240 Some are adamant about the old orchard wicket, Others claim 400 00:24:59.440 --> 00:25:02.000 it was brick up before the council put in the swings. 401 00:25:02.640 --> 00:25:06.160