Hi, do
you have a minute?
I
want to show you something.
Just
take my hand, and close your eyes.
Okay,
open them now.
See
where we are?
Hear the
car stereos, the sirens, the trucks hitting potholes, the fights? See the
garbage in the streets? And do you smell that? It's the antique sewers.
Hey,
watch out! You almost got hit by a Porsche.
He's
here to buy drugs.
We
are in Paterson, New Jersey. Silk City has seen better days.
That
African American gentleman there, the one with the white beard, rising from his
park bench and reaching out to shake your hand. He's retired since he had a
heart attack. He asks you how you are, and he really wants to hear. He promises
to pray for you, and he will. He offers kind advice about living every day to
its fullest. His smiling face and compassion prove that many good people still live
in Paterson.
It
is, though, a tough place to live.
But
look up. Five hundred feet. That verdant outcropping. That is Paterson's
emerald. You are looking at Garret Mountain and Rifle Camp Park. Take my hand.
Let's go.
"Wow!"
I
hear you. Wow, indeed. It is so different from Paterson, isn't it? Or Woodland
Park, or Clifton, the surrounding, endless, megalopolis of traffic jams and
sports fields and pushing and shoving.
Here,
you can feel the cool breeze clapping through the leaves, rather than heat
pounding up from asphalt. You can hear birds sing and water trickle against basalt
streambeds, rather than sirens' wail and boom box blast. White and black and
brown people, grandparents and children. Teens flying kites. Toddlers eye to
eye with their very first frog. Lovers gazing at the rising moon as if they've
never seen sky before.
Runners
train with all the focus of Rocky Balboa before his big match with Apollo
Creed.
A
woman is pulling paper out of her pocket and scribbling. She's a writer; she
needs this escape to rendezvous with her muse.
We
slip into tree cover. Suddenly all sound is muffled. We step silently over moss
pillows. The trail is surprisingly steep. Our bodies are dappled with leaf
shadow -- just like that dappled fawn in the high grass. Never fear; her doe
mother is nearby. We pass three young black men, seated around a big,
table-shaped boulder. It's where they come to decompress.
Over
there you see some folks with binoculars. Believe it or not, this small park,
falling within the boundaries of New Jersey's third most populous city, in
America's most densely populated state, is an Audubon-designated,
environmentally important area.
Look
down around you. You see that this mountain is actually a plateau. It's the
remnants of an ancient magma flow. Down below: suburbs, factories, highways.
New Jersey is right underneath the Atlantic Flyway, the ancient route birds
take north in spring and south in winter. Because this park is an oasis of
green surrounded by pavement, birds need Rifle Camp and Garret to feed and
rest.
See
those dead trees? They feed bugs, and birds eat those bugs. Then those trees
crumple into soil, nourishing new life. The grasses, bushes, wetlands and rocks
all play their part in making this park a lifeline for one-hundred-fifty
species of birds, some of them endangered. Peregrines and bald eagles, red-headed
woodpeckers and cerulean warblers. These birds travel from the Arctic to the
Amazon, every year. New Jersey's own Garret and Rifle Camp are part of the
timeless, border-defying web of life.
Remember
when we were back in the city, with all its rush and rules? You couldn't cross
the street till the sign said you could. You had to compete with others on the
urban sidewalks. Think of how you feel on a sports field. The referee blows his
whistle. "You win! You lose!"
We
need trees as much as we need civilization. Thousands of years ago, Moses went
into the wilderness to encounter God. Today we come to Garret Mountain / Rifle
Camp.
When
I was a kid, an older immigrant from Spain used to talk to me about how
important it was for him to spend time in Rifle Camp Park. I think Rifle Camp
gave him a chance to connect with the part of his soul that he left behind when
he was a shepherd child in the dry hills beyond Toledo.
One
of my neighbors now, a successful artist, a sophisticated professional who
works for the city, cherishes this park as her route to inspiration for her
abstract paintings.
Another
woman I know doesn't get up here as much as she would like. She doesn't have a
car and she needs a wheelchair. Even so, she makes it a point, every day, to
gaze upward. No matter what she has just heard from the doctors or what hassle
she must work through to get the medical care she needs, she finds peace and
solace just in the vision. She can then focus on her day to day struggles with
renewed vigor.
No,
Garret Mountain / Rifle Camp is not, oh, say, Yosemite Valley. There are no
spectacular rock faces to climb; no grizzly bears to fear.
This
is what Garret Mountain / Rifle Camp Park is. It is a green escape from a
concrete jungle. It is a refuge of bird melodies and wind song in a cacophony
of blare. It is an essential oasis for a hummingbird so light you could mail
ten of them with one first class stamp, a bird traveling a three-thousand-mile
highway. It is a water sponge when it rains – it helps to lessen flooding. It
is a seal that Passaic County voters protect their environment for future
generations. It is a portal to another dimension, where the sun and the clouds
create light, where air on the skin ignites pleasure, where manmade rules, from
the "Don't Walk" sign to the concept of points and home-runs, are
utterly meaningless.
It is
the place low-income Paterson, Clifton, and Woodland Park residents can reach.
They may never climb Half Dome in Yosemite. They may never "Ooo" and "Aaa"
over Yellowstone. They may be so low income they don't have a car to reach
Stokes Forest or Norvin Green Forest in western and northern New Jersey.
But
they have this, their emerald, their green, their place to exhale. Passaic
County Freeholders, don't take away from this generation what previous
generations have protected.
Sign
the petition to protect Rifle Camp Park from development:
Visit
this webpage: http://savercp.org/
Join
up with other cool people who want to protect Garret Mountain and Rifle Camp:
You captured the essence of GMR and RCP.
ReplyDeleteIt would be better with a disc golf course in it though.
ReplyDeleteReally a golf course. How about we preserve whats left. Instead of over populating natural enviroments.
ReplyDeleteThis is a crisis that is on par with the Flint water crisis. Plain and simple!
ReplyDelete