The decision announced by Pres. Obama last Wednesday to unleash the dogs of war is very disturbing. American servicemen and women are to return to Iraq, to those sands that have already soaked up rivers of American blood.
I was writing about my fears and misgivings, but kept being interrupted. This morning the news that another Westerner has been beheaded forced me to recalibrate. My own head began to spin.
I decided to grant myself a reprieve and walked to Central Park. It was another warm and beautiful day, like so many in this unusual summer. Once I passed through the gates and into the green oasis, the sounds of the city faded away and my thoughts of war and death began to dissipate.
On a mild and sunny Sunday, there were strollers like me, also bikers, skaters, rollerbladers, runners, boaters, people riding pedicabs and others making music. There were lovers and tourists, babies and grandparents. I watched a mother teach her daughter to skip. A couple visiting from Indiana asked me to take their picture. In the manner of people who live in a small town, passersby smiled and greeted at each other.
Eventually it was time to leave. Knowing that the park would still be there tomorrow made it easier.
Dusk arrives much earlier now, but this, the most beautiful summer in memory, still lingers. It will be a comforting though distant memory in January, but the park will still delight
with winter’s glistening snow and sparkling ice.