The Troubadour of Forest Hills

 

In 1991 Paul Simon decided to give a free concert in Central Park as a follow up to the Central Park concert that he had performed with Art Garfunkel in 1981. I was elated, having enjoyed the previous show immensely. The show would be in the Sheep Meadow, a beautiful picturesque, pastoral scene – or at least as close as it was possible to get to one in the heart of New York City.

 

There is something great about anything for free. The experience is often equal to one that is paid for dearly and sometimes is quite superior to its costly rival. Dinner at The Rainbow Room for instance, did not hold a candle to the fare at my favorite local eatery. I can remember clipping the Dairylea coupons from finished milk cartons and saving them up to send away for free Met’s Tickets to Shea Stadium! I drank milk until it was dripping out of my ears! The thrill of the expected arrival of my self inscribed pre-paid postage envelope was almost too much excitement to bear! Arriving at Shea Stadium and being ushered up, up and away to the rarefied air at the tippy, tippy top of the stadium, just below the flood lights, with an amazing view of Long Island Sound and an overview of N.Y.C. was

thrilling! The curvature of the earth was almost visible at these lofty heights and the ear drum shattering, crushing sounds of the jets screeching overhead and barely missing the stadium thrilled a young boy as we peeked in the windows of the planes where the airline passengers sat, their faces clearly visible from our seats as the enormous black rubber wheels distended from the belly of the aircraft to touch down shortly at La Guardia Airport. As dusk came, N.Y.C. put on its dazzling display, lighting up like a Christmas tree for as far as the eye could see.The smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafted up to our realm of lofty height  where vendors did not bother to climb, cognizant of the probability of empty pockets for such delicacies. A free Cone at Carvel on your birthday was always a wonderful delight, the melting creaminess attempting to escape its fate, rolling  hurriedly down the sides of the creamy precipice , thwarted in its attempted escape and consumed by a greedy tongue.

 

Finally, August 15^th 1991 came, the day of the concert. It was a beautiful summer’s day and a perfect complement to Mr. Simon’s Born at the Right Time Tour. The band was comprised of top notch studio and touring musicians. It was easy to tell the two groups apart since the studio musicians rarely saw sunlight, looking pale and white in the middle of the summer like vampires crawling out of their crypt to perform, while their touring compatriots were tanned and robust from the sun. Additionally, the amazing Brazilian percussion band OLODUM were on hand and opened the show with Paul Simon to thunderous applause!

 

The show went off without a hitch, and in all combinations of musicians, it was a complete success. Mr. Simon was generous with his stage time and all the musicians were given a chance to show off their talents while he introduced them to the crowd individually. There were no reported incidents of violence as Mr. Simon tended to draw a mellow crowd. The show broke up around 10:30 pm and the audience quietly and quickly filtered out of the park.

 

After a brisk walk I arrived at my newly purchased car at Lex and 70^th street noticing that one of the windows was down about an inch and the car was unlocked. It was an old Pontiac that I had purchased the day before.  I immediately went to the glove compartment to find my paperwork. It was all there, which came as a relief. The floor of the car however was completely littered with papers and checking underneath the seats I realized that all the debris from underneath them had been pulled out. I was planning to clean the car the next day and this was a nice surprise as it would be much easier to do so now. Apparently, my uninvited cleaning crew we’re looking for money or something of value under the seats. I got into the driver’s seat and turned the car over, to find that everything was working properly. If I had known that my helpful industrious friends were coming, I would have left them a tip for their trouble neatly folded in an envelope in a much more accessible location. This was my Felix culpa experience.

 

Thanks for the idea, Marsha!

 

Jim

Nov 2021