How We Use Our Parks

I was in Montreal a few weeks ago, at that fleeting pre-Omicron moment when it felt almost safe to move about a little. There is a lovely park a few minutes from the place we were staying at. They were building a really good-looking stage on the far side of a big pond, a place to watch theatre and music next summer. A dreamy, impossible-feeling sort of future. There were men and women climbing the scaffolding, and from a distance it was as if red and yellow streamers had been released and were wriggling into the sky.

But that’s not what I’ve stopped here to talk about. What thrilled me more than anything was the way all these permanent loungers were dotted about invitingly. Their lovely soft curves were a bit like waves moving over a sea. A far cry from the divided park benches so common now, including here in Kingston. That obnoxious seating forces us apart from one another. It sends the the unmistakeable message that we shouldn’t get too comfortable and, most clearly of all, that we shouldn’t even think about spending the night. It’s an oppressive, intolerant sort of urban design and we should resist its proliferation in our public spaces.