Many years ago, as a child, I played in Chelsea Park, Manhattan, NYC. In those days, it was concrete with a little bit of green. Today, it’s green with a little bit of concrete. Somewhere in the middle, it was just sand, like a big cat litter box.

I’m sure Chelsea Park could be a metaphor for life – from concrete jungle to cat dung to green space – but that is probably over-reading. My country and I have made it through Vietnam, the cold war, and into the next millennium. My country and I have have seen the World Trade Center fall and a black man rise to the presidency. My grandfather worked in the newspaper print industry as a typesetter; I need to make my blog mobile responsive. What a wonderful world.

Chelsea Park, circa 1968

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