Please publish or post this sotry.
----- Original Message ----- 
From: Joe Mazzella 
To: [email protected] 
Sent: Sunday, July 25, 2010 12:25 PM
Subject: reformatted story: The flower bed in the circle in the park.


The Flower Bed in the Circle in the Park
By: Cynthia Groopman

Living 60 years in a beautiful housing development, I have had the joy and 
happiness to sit in the circle of benches and surrounding that circle is a 
beautiful flower bed full of beautiful rainbow majestic fragrant flowers. As a 
child we would sit there seeking refuge from the summer heat since the area was 
shady and an oasis.

Grandmother would sit with her ladies and they would speak of the old country 
in their native Yiddish. I would admire the flowers with my brother and we 
would run around the area with childhood joy and energy. The Good humor man 
riding on is bicycle would come ringing his bell and we would hustle to get an 
ice cram pop for fifteen cents. This was back in 1955 at age seven.

Grandmother would open her purse and give us the coins and we would skip with a 
smile  on our faces. As we sat there admiring the flowers and hearing the 
clamor of the people and my grandmother's singing of Yiddish songs, I would say 
to myself that that flower bed and that area would bring me joy as an older 
adult and it was unknown to me in what manner it would. That was God's mystery.

The youthful happy days of summers flew by as quick as a wink and we grew up, 
grandmother passed on to her eternal home and so did her ladies, but the flower 
bed and the circle of the benches did remain. I did not return to that shade 
and refuge for many years. I worked, helped mom and dad, and had social life 
experiences.
Then working at the senor center took up time. Somehow the charm of the area 
was not as alluring to me as it was when i was a child. The people spoke 
different languages, and there were children of different ages and no people my 
own age. However, an answer to my childhood dream did become a reality in 
September of 2006.

The NY Post had announced that they were going to award me with their Livery 
Medal. That was exciting. The photographer wanted to take lots of pictures of 
me. One of the places he chose was the park .I told him of my dram and how the 
flower bed would serve a different purpose later in my life. He was excited. He 
escorted me downstairs  and we took pictures there, in the same spot where my 
youthful bliss was spent.

I could hear the songs  and Yiddish joy of my grandmother speaking to her 
ladies, the ice cram bells and my brother and I running around with zest and 
youthful energy.
As I sat there posing or stood near the flowers, I thought of my flowers of my 
youth. Life is like a flower. We are seedlings, greminate at the springtime of 
our life and then flourish and thrive with love and nurturing and love and 
sunshine. Although flowers no longer are with us, such as loved one, their 
elegance and joy never fade and these flowers are in our precious memories. 
Thus, 55 years ago, little did I know that the same area would be a joyful 
place for a 58 year old person to return to as a refuge of the fulfillment of a 
dream of a desire and bask in the fragrant triumph of jubilation. God has plans 
for us and those are as sweet as the flowers, and as zestful and energetic and 
blissful of our youth. Savor each hidden plan of God.


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