I don’t know if it is crime or the fear of it that wears you down
I was walking through City Park in some state of headiness as I am want to get while strolling through a lush landscape dotted with interetsing birds and plants and trees. The Louisiana yellow and purple irises are just starting to fade from their Easter burst, but there is still a dot or two of color here and there. As Arlene and I rounded the lagoon, I saw a shadow in the distance, a black man making his way toward the picnic shelter and in the shadows saw a glint of metal. I had two choices, continue strolling by the lagoon’s path, which would position me alone behind the shelter or divert to the railroad tracks which is more out in the open. I watched without watching to see what he was doing and he leaned over the picnic table. To the left were ducks and swans and I chose to the take the path on the right, out in the open. As I came near the front of the shelter the man had disappeared causing a slight chill down my back as if indeed one of those ducks had walked over my grave. When I turned back, I could see the man now leaning in slightly towards the lagoon, and in his hands a long telescoping camera lens focused on the ducks as they swam away.
It’s the fear that wears at a community.