FOR MORE THAN 20 YEARS, I lived in a tiny New York City apartment on the Upper West Side, half a block from Central Park. The park kept me sane. A stroll, jog, or visit to the swing set were antidotes for loneliness, boredom, frustration, sadness — whatever the emotion, time in the park made it feel better. As well, the park was where I got together with friends for countless celebrations and special events that ranged from a stupendous performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture by the
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