I forgive you, Alice – Oct 2009, 23
Image by Ed Yourdon
(Note: this photo was published, for some reason (unknown to me!), in a Nov 18, 2010 Survival Food Supplies blog titled "What types of nurses are in high demand or will be in high demand? “emergency pediatric”," as well as a Nov 21, 2010 blog titled "In Islam, is cannibalism permitted as a last resort to survival?"
Moving into 2011, the photo was published in an undated (early Jan 2011) Counseling Rehab blog titled "Looking for the Best Weight Loss Pills." It was also published, for reasons that are a complete mystery to me, in a Feb 5, 2011 blog titled "Where can I find information about cave survival? “survival foods and supplies”." And it was published in an Apr 2, 2011 blog titled "Fun Fun Fun: The Best Exercises For Quick Weight Loss."
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After 25 years, the time has come to forgive Alice.
Alice in Wonderland, that is. More precisely, the statue of Alice in Wonderland that forms the centerpiece of the Delacorte Memorial in Central Park.
Why? Well, let me tell you a story…
In the early summer of 1984, my older son – who was a young boy at the time – fell from the top of the Alice in Wonderland statue one afternoon after school, and was knocked unconscious. Taken by ambulance to the emergency rom of a nearby hospital, he was soon joined by his distraught mother — who had only one question for the doctor on duty: "Will he live?" The doctor, whom we later concluded was probably workin his first day of "rounds" as a resident at the hospital, stammered, "I don’t know." Not a definitive "yes" or "no." Not even a hopeful, "I think so." Just "I don’t know."
And where was I when all of this happened? Circling overhead in an Eastern Airlines shuttle flight (remember Eastern?) on my way back from Washington, waiting to land at LaGuardia. This was in the days before Blackberries and cellphones, before Facebook and Twitter — so I had to wait until I could find a pay phone in the airport before I could call home to apologize for my delay.
My youngest son beat the babysitter to the phone, and announced in a cheerful little pipsqueak voice, "Hi, dad, Jamie’s in the hospital!"
Needless to say, it was a long night at the hospital. Fortunately for us, a world-famous pediatric neurosurgeon, whose children had befriended our kids at summer camp on Fire Island the year before, stopped by that night, took one look at Jamie, and said to us, "He’ll be fine." And he was fine — but it was still a long night. Thus, perhaps you can understand why I never forgave Alice for that long night’s vigil. Not until now.
Why now?
I hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought about it when I finished a routine checkup at a doctor’s office on Manhattan’s East Side yesterday, and decided to take advantage of an hour’s free time, and the crisp fall weather, to walk through Central Park to my next appointment on the West Side. I began walking through the park at 72nd Street, and happened to catch a glimpse of the small boat pond — officially known as Conservatory Water — where young children can often be seen pushing small, elaborate toy sailboats into the water, hoping that they’ll drift across to the other side.
I detoured toward the pond, hoping I might get a picturesque shot or two of such a scene (a serious photographer always has his camera ready for such fortuitous moments!), but there was only one lonely babysitter, pushing an infant in a stroller; I had forgotten that it was mid-day on a school day, so all the children who might normally frequent this area were probably in school.
As I strolled, I came to the north end of the pond, beyond which the Delacorte Memorial stands — with the aforementioned Alice in Wonderland statue. It too was deserted, but it looked peaceful and quiet in the dappled sunlight. I couldn’t help thinking how much time had passed since I was last here, and how time does indeed dull most pain, and heal most wounds…
And then I noticed something else: the green-slat wooden benches that surround the statue in a semicircle all have simple silver memorial tags, carrying a message inscribed by some patron, friend, or New York City resident who donated money to have that bench restored and placed in its spot. This is not a surprise: the benches and their memorial tags are located all through Central Park, and I’ve occasionally remarked on one or two other noteworthy tags that I’ve happened to spot. But this time, I read them all; and then I read all of the tags on the benches that surround the Conservatory Water pool to the south of the Delacorte Memorial. Some are simple and traditional, with no sign of emotion. But others are stunning in their emotional impact, written by friends and lovers, brothers and sisters, weighthers and mothers, grandparents and grandchildren — conveying in a few short words the full spectrum of love and gratitude, loss and sadness, celebration and grief, friendship and loyalty, hope and faith. And yes … forgiveness.
I’ve photographed them all for you, and placed them in this set. Read them all, as I did: one by one, and then in quick succession. And then perhaps you will feel moved, as I was, to forget an old grudge.
Perhaps like me, you can forgive your own Alice.
