A story: The Parkway to Trexler Park

Yesterday, I went to document a situation that has developed near the pedestrian bridge in the Parkway.  Truthfully, I have no idea what the intent of this project was nor do I know who is responsible for it.  I do know that it looks terrible, will dramatically increase erosion and will eventually kill the trees buried under the loose concrete fill.

Walking back to the car, I genuinely felt dejected.  The parks in the city of Allentown mean a great deal to me and have without question, been one of the most inspiring things I have encountered in my 26 years of life.

As of late, I have felt enlivened by the possibility of spearheading volunteer projects that I see as the beginning of a real albeit slow change in our parks.  Yesterday, that spirit fell slightly sullen on the sickeningly eroded banks of the Little Lehigh Creek.

I wanted to go to Jordan Park to take some new photography for a Save the Parks: Jordan Park post I have been intent on doing but I honestly couldn’t stomach it.  I told Chris, who was driving, to skip Jordan Park and go to the lot of the Home Depot in Whitehall.

I wanted to see the creek here because a long time ago, around the time I was in eighth grade, I used to bowl at Jordan Lanes.  After my youth league ended I would walk down to the “waterfall” and take pictures using my parent’s camera. 

The pictures I took as a child are affixed to a poster board in my bedroom that my mother assembled back then so that the shots could be preserved.  I look at the pictures everyday.  The park here, maintained by the municipality of Whitehall was horrid.  Litter was present in a greater display of diversity than plant life was.  It was simply disgusting.

Man, was I bummed. 

Later yesterday evening, I stopped in the lot of Trexler Park.  Chris had gotten for himself a brand new fancy pants $600 dollar camera and he wanted to experiment with night photography.  

What a feeling it is to stare into the infinite without the ability to comprehend it being of a finite mind.  I stood and stared at the sky  as every human as done for thousands of years.  These stares into the night sky have elicited countless reactions from  humans across the ages.  Some created gods, others mystical beings that are outlined by the orbs of light we recognize as stars.  Some people looked to see nothing.  Some people looked to see exactly what they wanted to when they turned their heads to an eyeful of eternity.

Beyond the light pollution, we can ruin nothing.  There are no islands sinking into the sea of space on account of the poor decisions of an arrogant species.  There are no eroded creek banks.  The entropy developing as the galaxies unfurl themselves across the fabric of universe is more civilized than we are. 

The consideration of the night sky, of the universe, leaves the true observer in humbled silence.

It reaffirms the wealth of spirit that is required for an inspiration and in turn it reminded me of the value of one plant that wasn’t planted before I came along. 

Last night, at Trexler Park, the truest meaning of a city park came to fruition through me and now, I tell you about it.  I found my needed refuge.  I found my missing inspiration.  It’s why I want to save them.  It’s why I want you to save them to.

For Chris