Puppy Park

I thought I’d do a trilogy of sorts about my Forsyth experiences.  I wrote this last quarter so it isn’t really connected like the previous two entries were but it does take place in the park so it seems suitable to include it now.

I really enjoy going to Forsyth.  It’s a really nice place to go and relax or exercise or do nothing at all.  Not only is the park pretty enough to hold your interest for a while but there are always plenty of people and puppies to observe when you tire of the low hanging trees and rotted wooden benches. 

You have the tourists, of course, with a camera glued to one hand and a map to the other, usually white haired folk with short shorts and big bellies.  The men wear socks and sandals and the women carry around fanny packs filled with restaurant coupons and ghost tour information. 

You have the casual exercisers with their MP3 players tucked into their sweats, pacing themselves as they loop around the perimeter of the park.  Then you have the hardcore exercisers with their MP3 players strapped to their arm, athletic shoes, spandex leggings, neoprene belts, pedometers attached to their hips and heart rate monitors attached to their wrist watches.  They look like they just stepped out of a Bally’s commercial and you can always spot them because they walk so hard they lap the runners and they always swing their arms in the air at a comedic level just to burn 20% more calories.  They have their noses in the air, aviator glasses across their eyes, looking like they could smash through a brick wall.  On the other side of the spectrum, you have the people who wanna get healthy in a more relaxed environment by laying down mats in the grass and doing yoga, finding their center among the chirping birds and warm sunshine. 

Then there’s the SCAD kids, mostly scenesters who ride on their Goodwill bikes and have one pant leg rolled up on their Goodwill pants.  They ride as fast as they want and don’t even need SPF because their beards protect their faces from the chapping elements.  The indie girls in their ragamuffin clothes like to sit with their grizzly boyfriends and eat lunch under a tree.  The jocks (who always travel in packs) peel off their shirts and play frisbee or tag football.  You have the occasional crazy that roams the area, screaming gibberish at no one in particular.  Sometimes homeless people with nothing to their name but a shopping cart full of cans will get a good day’s sleep on a crooked bench.

And then (and this is my favorite) you have the people that take their dogs there to walk them.  Young couples, old couples, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, entire families will walk their pets along one of the paths woven within the park.  The dogs always look so happy, wagging their tails and sniffing everything.  And why wouldn’t they be happy?  There’s so much stimuli.  And I think about how much my dog Sam would love to come here.  He’d be so excited he wouldn’t know what to do with himself!  He’d probably pee from the sheer overwhelming intensity.  I think I’d enjoy it as well. 

I usually come to the park alone and it would be nice to experience such sights with a companion rather than just a journal.  And now that I think about it, it seems like I don’t see many single people.  As nice as it is go to the park and enjoy being outside and as great of a place as it is for reflection and a slice of solitude, it’s better when you bring someone.  It’s nice to enjoy this time and space with someone you care about.  It’s fun to make fun of the stupid SCAD kids together or enjoy the puppies together.  As nice of a thought as it is, it’s merely just that: a thought.  This place will always be just a thought, just a rest stop for reflection and nothing more.  It’s my singular spot.  A place for people, puppies, and then only me.