EMILY’S WALK IN THE PARK

By Shirley Dahlgren

It’s a beautiful, cloudless day and Emily has the day off from her job at the library. It's a good day for a walk in Central Park. There will be lots of people and Emily, an extrovert, likes people.

Her first encounter is with NYC's iconic super dog walker, with his bevy of upscale canines in tow.

"Hi Emily, look at this sad little sweet Wheaten Terrier. His owner just died and he needs a new home. Wouldn't you like a companion for your walks?"

Emily says, "Well, I don't know, maybe I could, but..." Jim hands her the leash, saying he predicts a wonderful future for the two of them.

“Guten tag, Fräulein. I’m Wolfgang.”

“Hi, I’m Emily.”

“I’d like to chat with you, Emily, but my head is bursting with arpeggios, pizzicato, and fortes. I can’t seem to grab onto some adagios or lentos. Well, I just need to get home to my quill pen and darling Stanzerl and check on the whereabouts of that stalker, Salieri.”

The next two gentlemen seem to be arguing.

"Hi, I'm Emily."

"My name is Georges and he is Andy. We disagree on what is good art. He does soup cans. He calls it pop art. And I do landscapes using small colorful dots. I call it pointillism. You don't need to give us your opinion."

"Well, I guess my favorite artist is Matisse, but I'm sure you're both very good."

Next, there’s an older gentleman who has an aura of being someone impressive.

“Hi, I’m Emily, sir.”

“I’m glad to meet you, young lady. My name is Moses. I was a basket baby but went on to have miraculous experiences. For instance, I was on a mountain and God spoke to me from a burning bush. Not only that, but I was able to walk a group of my followers through the waters of the Red Sea. You may have read about it in King James’ best seller book.”

And then he walks away.

This could be interesting: a black woman with a small black girl.

“Hi, I’m Emily.” The woman answers, “Hi, I’m Rosa and this is Ruby. We’re exploring the idea of forming a Brave Girls’ (or should it be women?) Club.”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not eligible. The bravest things I ever did were getting on a roller coaster and putting a wiggling worm on a fishhook. But you could talk to my friend Gloria and Sojourner Truth, maybe Florence, and I could make you a list. Anyway, good luck—it’s a great idea.”

A heavy man approaches, spraying his blonde hair and then digging into a bag of McDonald’s. Emily hesitates, and then says, “Hi, I’m Emily.”

“My fans call me ‘The Donald’ or, more recently, the ‘Second Coming.’ I try to convince them to call me ‘Still the President.’ I have been searching for just a few more than eleven thousand ballots that may have blown up here from Georgia or maybe are packed in document boxes. I am tired because I just blasphemed at a rally—the largest rally crowd in the history of the universe—and now I’m checking my phone to see how the pity contributions are coming in, in reaction to the witch hunt. Would you like to add to it?”

“Nope. I only give to reliable educational institutions and humanitarian causes.”

The next walker seems to be lost in thought, but Emily decides to greet him anyway. “Hi, I’m Emily.”

“Oh, hi, Emily. I’m Billy and I’m a poet. I’m working on something that can’t be banned in Florida. It’s about a history teacher who sugarcoats history for his young students. For instance, he calls the Ice Age a chilly time when everyone had to wear sweaters, and says that the Enola Gay dropped a tiny atom on Japan and that the Spanish Inquisition was an outbreak of questions like, ‘What do they call the matador’s hat?’”

“Oh, I love it--and I think it should pass muster with the Governor of Florida.”

A darling little girl is tap dancing toward Emily. “Hi, I’m Emily.”

“I’m Shirley, but some people think of me as Heidi. As you can see, I’m adorable, perky and charismatic. I sing and dance and my curls are to die for. When I grow up, I will be someone important like an ambassador. After all, I can’t spend my life on the Good Ship Lollipop.”

And now, coming down the path is an attractive young woman who just got up from a bench. She seems burdened by a huge Gucci bag on her shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Emily.”

“Taylor here. Would you please accept a large handful of large denomination bills? I’ve got lots more at home and I don’t know what to do with them.”

“Really? I know of a lot of people who could use them.”

Now Emily sees what looks like a man with a small flock of birds hovering around him. “Hi, my name is Emily.”

“And I’m Francis. What a lovely dog you have! What's it’s name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you must give it a name if I am to bless it. I love all animals.”

“I guess I’ll call him Phantom.”

“I’ve never seen that breed in Assisi.”

Francis gives a blessing and Emily thanks him and tells him it is beautiful. He should have it published.

There is a slapping sound on the path. She sees it’s a guy dribbling a basketball. “Hi, I’m Emily. You’re pretty good with that basketball.”

"Thanks, I'm Barack.  It's a Kenyan name, but I was born in Hawaii, though some folks refused to believe it. I'm a two time POTUS. I think I did a pretty good job with health and harmony, but there was much more I wanted to do. I still speak out from time to time.  You probably remember my wife Michelle and dog Bo. They were more popular than me, not to mention daughters Malia and Sasha.

“Hi, I’m Emily.”

“Oh, hey. I’m Bruce, but don’t call me the Boss. I hate that. I play in a band. Our gigs do pretty well. I see that you met my friend, Barack. Like him, I was ‘Born in the USA.’ I love that guy. Well, if you’re ever in Jersey, look me up. I’m on E Street.”

“Wow! I hope I can get a ticket to your next concert.”

Up a little hill is an attractive woman with a picnic hamper like you’d see in a gourmet magazine. Phantom and Emily approach her. “Hi, I’m Emily.”

“And I am Martha, and I would love to serve you some crudités with a playful little wine. And I have some wonderful pate that your dog will love.”

“Thank you. Phantom and I would love to join you. Bon Appetit!” After the treat, Emily and Phantom head back to the trail.

Martha calls after her. “Do you see that woman? Her name is Betty, and she stalks me. She’s trying to replicate my delicious tortes by machinating some inferior ingredients to place in boxes and sell at a profit. Don’t talk to her.”

A jogger slows down to greet Emily. “Beautiful day. I’m Paul. I rode a green bus from Minnesota to Washington, D.C. where I was denigrated for my wardrobe by the elite in Congress. Well, I improved my wardrobe and changed a few more things in politics and would have changed more things for the better if I’d had the time. My wife Sheila also worked for women’s rights. And who are you?”

“I’m Emily. I’m not too politically active, but I like your agenda.”

“You’ll get there, Emily. Just remember we all do better when we all do better.”

A man approaches. He seems to be searching for something. His eyes light up when he sees me.

“Hi, I’m Emily.”

“Ah, I’m Henry. You may guess from my accent that I am a Brit. I’m looking for another wife and I’ll find one, by Jove. Would you be interested? I have a very large estate and lots of servants.”

“How many wives have you had?”

“I can’t say for sure. About six. Oh, do you see that Lady going by on horseback, wearing nothing but her long hair? Well, tata.”

“Well, Phantom, I’m tired. Let’s get a couple of Burger King Whoppers and head home and crash. You can sleep on my bed if you like.”

The sun rises, shining through the blinds in Emily’s bedroom. Her first thought is that she is now a pet owner, a happy but scary thought. Where is Phantom? But Phantom is nowhere to be found.