Sundays at Harlem Meer (What does “meer” mean? It’s not in my dictionary.) Performance Festival, Central Park North between Fifth and Lenox: Today’s performance was called “African Blue Note.” Call it what you will. There was music; families picnicking and barbecuing; teenagers playing double-dutch; crowded playground; cyclists divert themselves from the path to check out the action; passers-by pausing; Jaelyn and me hanging out… we stopped to watch the ducks in the lake… tried to feed them a peanut a pre-teen boy offered us for that purpose, but we didn’t want to get too close to the edge, so we tossed it in and watched our duckie duck crack the shell and fish out the meat within… then to the playground by Grandma’s house where Jaelyn stopped to play in the sandbox and a lovely little girl named Alexandra shared her Sesame Street shovels and pail with Jaelyn. Grandma made comfort food (meatloaf and macaroni and cheese) and there was ice cream and Pepsi-Cola.

Life, as is should be.