The Random Epiphany of a Random Thinking Teenager

Another evening for you Joe. A couple more blocks and we’ll be at the park. We’ll be able to see some things, think about some things, smell some things. Wait, smell some things? What, moving on. I couldn’t feel more embraced for a walk. I got my windbreaker, some shorts, my flashy off-white sneakers, and I’m listening to some Kanye. God damn Joe you’ve really done it haven’t you. Man Kanye’s Graduation album really is legendary and I don’t get why people give him so much hate. One thing is for sure is that the man is a musical genius.

Flashing lights… flashing lights. Beat with Joe okay, don’t be shy you vibing, do you. 

Smell some things. You weirdo but it is nice. This evening is really hitting it with the nature bro. I can almost taste that notorious pine tree smell and spring pollination, it’s almost a little burning but almost a little… tasty? No, no, pleasant is the word. And what do they all say, “April showers bring May flowers,” well God bless with that. I love this bank of neverending dust-colored clouds floating over. And like a burger with fries, I feel that calming mist they are sprinkling on. Just take a second Joe, try and feel every unseeable but feelable drops that barely hits you. And you know what Joe? This humidity is going to make your wavy amber hair a little more curly, makes me look like Matthew McConaughey which I don’t mind… and neither do the ladies. 

She don't believe in shootin' stars…  But she believe in shoes and cars. Man Kanye sing it homie. 

Ah, Joe look at that I see that park just right now, about 30 or so yards away. I hope it doesn’t get dark too soon, already 5 so I have about an hour or so before night. You know what I don’t get is the whole evening, twilight, dusk, night shit. What I know is that there’s morning, noon, evening that’s it. No of this dawn or noon bullshit. 

Okay, look both ways now… nothing to my left… nothing to my―oh wait a second I see you. Now go. Man who would ever drive a Prius c’mon now. I don’t care if the gas mileage is 100 miles per gallon and it’s 25 grand. No style, no class, just white rice. I don’t know what car I would get truthfully, maybe a Ferrari but that’s like the rich version of a Prius. You know what Joe? I would get one of them Elon Musk Trucks that look straight out of a space movie. It would piss people off so much driving that giant metal… tank around. Imagine dropping off your kids at school in one of those, acting like its totally normal that little Jimmy is hopping out of a 40,000 Mars Rover. Haha, you are too funny Joe. 

Here we go now, officially in the park. Man does this place have a special place in my book. Jefferson Park ah. Why do most public things get named after presidents? Like I get it, they are important, they basically control the history of our nation, yadda yadda but why is it that a park built in the late 90s get recognized in the name of our third president. First off, he wasn’t even number one, that’s Washington so he losses there. Two, what possible connection could he have to a park in the middle of Wisconsin. Shit, Wisconsin didn’t even exist when he was alive, Right? Ya, we’ll say yes cause I assume I’m right. 

Even though this is a bleak neighborhood, they really went all out on the park. I love the Wizard of Oz-like winding paths, it’s like a maze but not. One leads to the playground, another leads to the tennis courts, and then the third leads to the field. Damn, now that I think, this park is huge. On the opposite of the field, it transitions into a baseball field and on either side of its borders, there are the basketball courts and the giant concrete stage. Ah, that stage… memories. Man nothing is better than those summer evenings when they host bands and all types of food trucks roll in. Tacos, gyros, pizza, anything Joe. Nothing is better than just chillin’ on that lushy grass hill while hearing some tunes with a mountain of greasy food to feast on. 

Playground first though Joe because why not. This was legit the world to any kid be honest Joe. Riding those swings, chasing greater heights with ever thrust, even imaging if it was possible to do a full rotation. Remember when Nate broke his arm on that, what a dumbass now thinking about it. I said I was going full speed, and I know I said watch out. Like a chicken crossing the road but getting hit by an SUV, Nate was sent yards before himself crushing his right arm. Not my fault. Right? I don’t know, don’t think about it. 

This arena was truly my castle, my domain Joe. The slides were my barracks, the bridges my motes, and the monkey bars were my dungeon. Never ever was there a dull time no matter who I was with. Mom, Dad, Jared, even Nate when his arm healed. 

Whoever designed this park really deserves a raise. I can walk along any path and get to any point. Look I’m already at the tennis courts now. All puddled up and empty. Ya, even though I love rainy days they do hinder the life of a park a little. Let’s move on. 

Switch it up Joe, I’m feeling a little old-timey right now. How about Don McClean… yes “American Pie.” Bye, bye Miss American pie… dada da. 

Let’s cross over the field… Motherfu-you-c’mon Joe! Whoever designed this park is actually the definition of stupidity. Why is the field a swamp whenever it rains. Now my feet are soak, my shoes need to be washed… c’mon!I’m going to smell like a walking mushroom! I literally took 3 steps! Whatever I’m already wet as it is, might as well pound forward. I feel like in WW1, in one of the trenches except I’m not carrying 100 rounds of ammunition… nor running from mortars…. 

Wait, Joe! You can’t ignore this. I hated baseball… HATED IT. For one, look at this field. The dirt is basically mud, the black paint is chipping off the fences, and I don’t even think there are bases, let alone, spots for any bases to be set up. 

It was always so hot, like actually. Every game, the sun would just slow roast every part of me. Those stupid wool socks and baggy pants. Like who the hell creates a sport in the middle of summer to be played in PANTS! Makes no sense but we do it anyways like a lot of things. The kids were alright, kind of white rice nothing to really note about. The coach, oh my gosh you would think we had contracts and were playing for the World Series. Ah! Nothing gets me rattled than when Sergent Morris berated me every time I struck out. Like okay buddy, just because my name is Joe does not mean I’m Joe DiMaggio….

It’s getting late, only about 30 or so minutes till its dark.

I don’t know why my Dad kept me playing for so long. Wasn’t till 8th-no… 7th? I can’t call but all I know is I played baseball for too long. He’s always doing that, forcing me to do things. Does he ever see my side? I made it too clear.

“Just keep at it Joe,” he always said. Said that with baseball, with band, with math. I know he cares and its the parent-thing to do but I don’t know. I straight up didn’t like how baseball was so… strict? Traditional? Just wasn’t me. 

Band too, the conductor was a weirdo for one. During one practice he told me to tighten my lips like how I tighten my butt cheeks when holding one in. Like bro… you are a 70-year-old man who still thinks smoking doesn’t cause cancer. That analogy didn’t make sense nor was it the place to say to a pissed off 5th grader. Either way, band had too much… entrapment. The kids all thought this was their viral moment and the Chicago Symphony was dying to call them. And all the music was from like 300 years ago and we had to wear suits to every event. Isn’t the whole point of music to be creative? I don’t know I guess that makes too much sense. 

Why does he do that! He knows I don’t like it or get it but still pushes me out of my comfort without hesitation or consideration. I feel like those baby birds that get thrown out of their nests by their own parent at times…. 

Keep moving Joe or else you’ll start looking weird. 

Finally, back on some solid ground. Oh, would you look at that, a father and son playing basketball over at the courts? In this weather? Weirdos. 

Ha, the kid can’t even reach the hoop with his shot. See that’s what I’m talking about. The kid is obviously uncomfortable and his Dad is still making him practice… even during an evening like this. How can one even think of hooping when the courts are half-flooded and the ball completely waterlogged.

 I should go say something, that’s borderline child abuse. 

… Wait… timeout. 

The kid has his face all scrunched up. He’s… grinning? His Dad is just behind totally focus on the hoop mouthing something. The kid nods and shoots. He airballs again. The Dad is still mouthing something but I can make much of it. The kid got back to the free-throw line and shot again. Another airball. Jesus someone get this kid a sandwich. I want to say something but I also am intrigued. Let this play out Joe. 

Three airballs now. I wonder if they notice me behind the dugout. 

Oh there we go, a nice clank shot off the top of the backboard. So he can undershoot and overshoot but doesn’t like making it in the hoop. Wait a second… his Dad is high-fiving him. The hell? He didn’t even make it! What?

I can barely make out the playground now. It’s pretty late, I should start heading back now. Let’s follow the path this time Joe. 

The playground… the courts.

The tennis courts… those two. 

Ah, this bug in my head. The father and son, I can still picture them. Soaked in their clothes yet still acting as though it was a clear and sunny summer day. The kid was not good but he kept acting just as blindly as his Dad. His Dad was there and forcing him to… hold up. Was it forcing? Could’ve been guiding? If his Dad was upset they would’ve stopped playing, right? Yet just as the kid kept shooting, the Dad kept watching, mouthing. Maybe he was instructing? Or casually talking? Hmm…. 

Only a couple more blocks now…. 

Joe, I think you need to calm down. Not that you’re angry but… open yourself. Maybe Dad was just teaching you how to…  experience. I won’t like everything and everyone, he’s not dumb and knows that. But it’s disgusting to just cast off everything that doesn’t gravitate to me….

 Joe, you can’t only learn… knowledge or good things. You have to learn how to understand the bad too… the awkward moments… the mistakes… the uncomfortable. Whether we like it or not there are loads more moments like those to come, and not just in sports…. 

Let’s go back to Kanye Joe. What song… what song… ah yes. I love this one. 

... everything I’m not makes me everything I am….