the great leslie

When I was a kid, my brother and I used to race down Exchange Street in Portland. My father knew the owner of a restaurant called Horsefeathers, just around the corner from this little park. Across the from this park on Exchange Street was a parking lot. Years later, that lot was turned into a park. I always liked Portland because, despite being the city of my birth, it's the kind of city that turns parking lots into parks.

Today I met a fellow alumna of St. John's College in that park (called "Post Office Park" because it's behind the Rotary Club...no, not really: it's behind the post office). And, among other things, she works on housing and parking ordinances here in the city. She also plays in a tango band, which I will go see next Monday night.

Post Office Park was full of locals this afternoon (my new friend knew several folks). They were eating their lunches, meeting new friends, reading the paper. Birds flitted around. Certainly more people were enjoying it than cars would have fit, if it were still a lot.