Then today, I walked over to my garage and picked up my car. I went to put air in my front driver's side tire—easy now after a hubcap went missing at a rest area last week during my excursion to Pine Barrens School—and picked up some groceries.
When I got home, I had to circle the park in front of my house several times to find a spot. The east side is covered in No Parking signs. Tomorrow is the Hamilton Square Holi celebration. That's the Indian festival of color. In India, I cowered, mostly, while people threw color all over me. Here it's mostly kids and a fun fair.
"When more condos go up in the old hospital, it's going to be even harder to park," I thought, grousing about all the development around me.
Then I saw two guys near the Ninth Street church carrying something with lights on it. They were adhering these signs to the outside of Hamilton Park.
I parked on the Holi side, carried my groceries upstairs, then went back out to find a legal spot. I parked across the park, and while walking back, I checked out these light-up signs that lined the park. I wondered if it might be work of the local light-art guy who does electronic installations.
No, it was the work of the church. They'd installed something all right. The Stations of the Cross.
I love it. What a funny mix we have here. I may never leave.
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