On the last Saturday in May, the weather has arrived in Jubilee Station seeming confused. The air feels both muggy and slightly chilly, and there are thunderstorms in the forecast for the evening. After lunch on your porch, you decide to chance a visit to The Everyone Playground, located at the end of your block. You have been living in town for two months, and you have been hearing about the place constantly, but you have yet to explore it for yourself.
There is a busy playground at the end of your block, next to the tram stop. But you see now that the playground next to the sidewalk is just a gateway. A broad path leads into the forest behind the climbing structure, and the kids at play wave to you as you pass. You step into a dense grove of Green Ash and Sugar Maple trees. You smell the damp soil of the forest floor, carried on the cooler air that gently brushes over your bare arms and legs. You pause on the trail, and take in the riches of the woods with an easy breath.
You can see a bright clearing ahead, but around you, the forest is alive with activity. Neighbors are hanging out in brightly colored hammocks in groups of twos and threes, deep in conversation, or napping. Overhead, a high ropes course threads its way through the tree canopy. Back on the ground, there are picnic tables and Adirondack chairs set away from the path, among the rhododendrons.
When you reach the clearing, the forest gives way to a huge open space, with gently rolling hills surrounded to the east and south by the steep ridge that forms the Jubilee Valley. There is a skate park next to a set of pickleball courts. A metal track snakes its way to the ridgeline, with kids and adults on sleds rocketing down the track into the park. You see a mini golf course, basketball courts, and too many picnic pavilions to count. In the center of the action is a large six-sided building, full of kids and adults, with signs on every side that say Play Library.
You don’t even notice Larry and Darryl from Concert Club standing next to you, until Darryl says, “Pretty great, isn’t it?”
You say, “Oh! Hello. I think I’m a little dazed.”
Larry says, “Hello, You! That makes sense. This is a lot.”
You say, “It sure is.” You notice they both have skate helmets in their hands.
Darryl points up the hill and says, “We’re heading for the race track. I wonder if you might like to join some middle aged Dads for a bit of racing on grown up sized big wheels?”
You say, “Yes, if I must.”
Darryl says, “You must. Let’s get you a helmet. The Library can help.”
The three of you walk over to the Play Library, where you check out a well-scrubbed helmet for yourself. You ask Larry and Darryl, “Do I need to borrow a big wheel, too?” They shake their heads, and Larry says, “We keep them up at the track.”
The track in question turns out to be a slightly banked concrete oval, with a glass-doored garage where the low-slung metal tricycles are stored and maintained. There is a stand of bleachers on one side, with a scattering of spectators sitting on them.
Two dozen big wheels are massed on the track near the starting line. A bored-looking high school kid in a Parks and Rec T-shirt comes out to the head of the pack and says, “All right. The race is ten laps. No crashing on purpose. Everybody ready?”
The riders yell as a group, “Ready!”
The kid steps off to the side of the track, pulls a green flag from a tall box there, and waves it with no great enthusiasm. You snap the chin strap on your helmet into place, and you start pedaling forward, slowly at first because the pack is so close together. After a few seconds, though, it opens up. Soon you are ripping around the track, your legs burning and your heart pounding. You realize at some point that the big wheel can coast like a bicycle if you stop pedaling for a moment, and as you come out of a corner into the straightaway, you relax your body, delighting in the happy chaos around you, and take an elated breath.
You finish third, and the Dads, some of them limping slightly, pat your shoulder and say “Nice job, rookie,” as you and they exit the course. A group of younger adults are waiting their turn on the edge of the track, and the Parks and Rec employee looks considerably happier to see them.
Darryl says to you, “We’re heading to a picnic. Care to join us?”
You say, “Yes, I’d love to.”
Their picnic pavilion sits on a bluff overlooking the river, and is bursting with people and food. Larry hands you a plate when the three of you reach the head of the line, and you shuffle past a United Nations of offerings, including tandoori chicken with collard greens, bulgogi cheesesteaks, and a giant drink dispenser labeled chai horchata. You fix your plate and join the guys at a table with their families, where you field the usual volley of questions about your life in Jubilee Station.
After you finish eating, you get up to stretch your legs for a minute, and you walk over to the edge of the pavilion. Down by the river, you see earth movers crawling over huge piles of sand. You feel the wind at your back, flowing down from the ridge toward the water, and you take a satisfied breath.
Darryl arrives at your side again, only this time you notice him immediately. He takes in the scene with you and says, “That’s the River Beach. It opens in two weeks. Not quite summer yet, but it’s starting to feel that way around here.”
You say, “Yes, it really is.”