It is Palm Sunday and April Fools Day. Throughout the morning, singles and couples and families in their Sunday best cut across the park holding palm fronses and potted plants while neighbors walked their dogs and used plastic newspaper bags to pick up dog poop.
Toward the middle of the afternoon, two guys and a girl began throwing a Frisbee around. They threw with big swinging motions that sent the Frisbee wheeling off in big arcs to scrape against the sidewalk and tight controlled motions that sent it diving into the dirt, and even when one of the them got off a clean throw that sailed just below the tree branches the others could never run fast enough or far enough to catch it in time.
While they tossed it in a triangle, walkers looped the park at varying speeds. A tiny old woman in a blue knee-length raincoat and a mesh fedora hoofed it around and around, checking her watch to keep pace. A slow woman holding a pint of milk crossed the park while a man in one of the houses on Friendship, an acquaintance presumably, waved from his living room window but couldn’t get her attention. A dude in cotton layers, a sweatshirt over a t-shirt over sweatpants and sneakers, ambled along absently. The Frisbee descended at a sharp angle toward him and he casually snagged it from the air.
“Good catch!” one of the guys said.
The dude in cotton returned the Frisbee with a neat forehand flick. The guy caught it and said, “Aw man! I’ve always wanted to throw it that way, but can’t ever get it right.”