When Samuel and I did our Central Park Playground Challenge (running through sprinklers at every Central Park West playground from 100th Street to 81st Street), I wondered why there was such a big gap with no playgrounds between 81st and 67th Streets.
I found a map that indicated there had once been a playground just north of West 77th Street.
Like most Central Park playgrounds, it had been constructed in the 1930s by controversial city planner Robert Moses--some say as a way to keep kids within enclosed areas of concrete and chain link fence where they couldn't wreak havoc on the rest of the park.
But there are enough people bashing Robert Moses that we don't need to pile on.
Suffice it to say that there was supposedly a playground north of West 77th Street.
Notice I said supposedly.
I searched the city library archives to find a photo, and the only one I found was this mangled, spider-webby image:
I tried to mentally locate it and I couldn't. I recognized the church, the Kenilworth at 151 CPW, and the San Remo at 146 CPW. But something looked wrong. The problem: they were in the wrong order.
Flipping the picture gave me this image:
Bingo.
But that's not north of West 77th Street, as indicated by the map. It's south of West 77th Street.
Here's what it looks like today:
Here's the old photo superimposed over the new:
Mystery solved. Long live playgrounds. Long live Central Park.
" I don't think we as a species have a right to make anything out of denim except jeans."
I needed a gift to myself. It's a Frank Lloyd Wright blueprint and elevation rendering from 1942. Not in great shape, so I'll have to figure out how to press and frame it.
I have always loved the graceful lines of his architecture. But I think he was an arrogant a-hole.
I wish for his sake that he had been a decent human being. "Am I going to be an artist or a human being?" It's not an either-or choice. Being a decent human being should be the price of admission, and any other accomplishments you layer on top of that.
There are a few stressful things going on in my life at the moment, and I won't bore you with details, but I needed some time and space to clear my mind and exhale.
I spent the weekend at a writer's retreat in upstate New York. I saw some old friends and colleagues, got away from the rest of my life for a little bit, and just enjoyed the part of me that's a children's author. That's the part of me that is optimistic and idealistic, that believes in kindness and laughter and unconditional love. It is the well-lit side of my soul. I want the whole world to be that world.
The human heart is fragile. We need the things that anchor us to this earth to continue to anchor us to this earth.
I am grateful, and I vow to move forward with an open heart.
First and most important, Samuel came home for the weekend. I splurged on a milkshake at EJ's in celebration. I love that brown-eyed boy.
An illustrator did a sample illustration for one of the manuscripts I finished last week, and it looks fantastic. So the manuscript and sample will start going out together to publishers this week.
Finally, I just saw tonight that "Beep! Beep!" was named among the top 20 children's books since 2013, according to Early Childhood Education Zone. Not familiar with the site, but they must know what they're talking about.
I kept scrolling down to see where it was--top 15? Past "The Day the Crayons Quit." Past "Dragons Love Tacos."
Top 10? Nice. Past Mo Willems. Past Kevin Henkes.
Top 5? Surely not. I must have scrolled past it. Maybe it's not actually on here.
Whoa. Cool.
Copies of the new Scholastic paperback version of "Beep! Beep!" (which is nice because it's like having a new book out).
And a Bob Dylan biography I ordered from Amazon to see if I should give him another chance.
But I get so excited when I finish and submit a manuscript. I get so excited when we make a sale. I get so excited when the book comes out, and it has my name on it, and it's my words, my creative voice. And I get excited when I read it at story time at a bookstore and see babies and toddlers and new moms and dads and think of how great it is to be a parent and how great the world is with kids in it and how great picture books are and how great it is to be a part of that creative process.
I should spend my weekends looking for a permanent job, one that pays the bills and has a 401K and an annual bonus. And I am. I am.
But not my entire weekend.
I completed and submitted two final manuscripts this weekend. Two! They're good. They rock. They both took months to get through multiple edits and revisions. One was an idea I had literally two years ago and hadn't gotten down on paper until August.
You have to make time for your creative passions. Otherwise your life just goes by, and so much of it is dedicated to simply paying the mortgage and putting food on the table (or, in our case, ordering it from Domino's, then putting the box on the table).
The difference between a good weekend and a mediocre weekend for me is that at the end of a good weekend I can say I created something. This was a good weekend.
