My new favourite place to go - and the fun is free

On a recent visit to New York City, I did what any self-respecting and increasingly claustrophobic out-of-towner might do and walked through Central Park. As far as parks go, they aren’t much more famous – or central – than Central Park. A green haven in a grey city that offers everyone – locals, tourists, passersby – a natural respite from the man-made stress.

If I had been travelling with a companion, I might’ve wondered aloud “Who built this place?” in the hope they had done their homework but, sadly, I was alone, so I Googled it myself. Turns out it was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, a writer and landscape architect from Connecticut, and Calvert Vaux, a young English architect.

A green haven in a grey city, Central Park is the perfect example of how open spaces bring people together from every age and stage of life. Credit: Getty Images

The park opened in 1858 and, soon after, Olmsted outlined his vision for the park’s purpose.

“Central Park will be a soothing and refreshing sanitary influence,” he wrote. “A relief from ordinary cares that not only gives pleasure for the time being but increases the subsequent capacity for happiness.”

During my visit, it seemed Olmsted’s hopes were alive and well. Couples reclined on the grass. Friends set up picnic rugs and ate sandwiches. Children chased dogs, and dogs chased each other, and everyone seemed relatively relieved from their ordinary cares. I don’t know what Olmsted would’ve made of the perma-haze coming from the groups of vaping teens; not very refreshing nor sanitary but, all in all, the park was doing its job.

A few days later, I returned home, walking through the door after a 40-hour flight to be greeted by my 18-month-old son, who had one thing on his mind: “Park?” Along with “honey”, “shark”, “wow” and “toast”, “park” is probably his favourite word and undoubtedly, his favourite place.

Where else might you see tiny people taking their first steps, young people having their first kiss and old people just happy to be out and about? Credit: Michael Howard

Our local park may not be as vast as the one in New York, but compared with the confines of a two-bedroom apartment, it seems grand, especially to a toddler easily impressed by most things. Each visit is another chance to dip into his small but mighty vocabulary: “Wow!”

I’ve never really believed that whole “see the world through a child’s eyes” mantra, but I admit that his enthusiasm for the local park has forced me to re-examine it (through my own eyes), and I’ve come to realise I enjoy the park far more than Archie does.

While he runs around yelling “shark!” at birds, I practise my own version of mindfulness: seeing how long I can go without pulling my phone out.

Australians are lucky enough to live in a country rich with green spaces, and we generally fancy ourselves as outdoorsy. However, outside the odd news cycle flare-up – Asbestos! – I worry we’ve lost sight of exactly how crucial these public spaces are.

In an increasingly isolated world, the park is a non-discriminatory, safe space for every age and stage of life. Where else might you see tiny people taking their first steps, young people having their first kiss and old people just happy to be out and about?

At the local park, weary parents come together to lick their wounds, keeping half an eye on their kids while rejoicing in the chance to speak to other adults or not speak at all.

At the local park, teenagers do what they do best (loiter), occasionally splintering off to do that other thing they do best (awkwardly flirt). At the local park, elderly couples walk hand in hand, discussing how nice it is to get a bit of fresh air and vitamin D.

Everywhere you look, the park serves a purpose, and we’re all happy to share. Sure, there is the occasional shouting match over a miskicked football or a failure to vacate the communal BBQ but, for the most part, it’s free of the tension that exists elsewhere in modern life.

The upside to being in the everyday, twice-a-day phase of my park life is that this community of strangers has quickly become familiar. Archie has park friends, and so do I, people we only catch up with near the swing set and climbing ropes.

The upside to being in the “let’s go to the park!” stage of parenting is that it offers a reminder of exactly how crucial these spaces are.

During our last outing, a Park Friend Dad asked if we’d checked out the new park five minutes’ drive down the road, shiny equipment and a cafe serving decent coffee (very important, as discussed last week).

Concerned that I was depriving my child of a better park, we paid a visit. While the coffee was great and the slippery dip was way safer than the one at our local, Archie seemed lost, unable to muster up even a single “wow”.

Deep down, I suspected he was happy with what he already knew, and I was relieved that I didn’t need to search for something better when we had everything we needed right where we were.

Parks offer relief from ordinary cares. They give pleasure for a moment but increase our subsequent capacity for happiness. Also, who doesn’t love monkey bars?

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at [e-mail] or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.

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