Edgewater Park seemed a hundred miles
away when I was eight years old, and
would travel there with my mom and dad
to attend our family reunion. Located
along the banks of Big Walnut Creek,
the park was situated in a woods with
a few open spaces and a playing field.
As an adult, I was shocked to learn that
Edgewater was only a couple of miles
from our house, located off Hamilton
Road in Groveport.
What fascinated me the most was
the concrete dance floor, surrounded on
four sides by stone walls with one opening
for an entrance. White light globes were
placed intermittently atop the wall.
A small stage accommodated an old-fashioned
jukebox.
I don’t know when the park came into existence.
Research doesn’t reveal the date, but my guess
would be the 1930s. I can imagine people doing
a Swingout, the defining step of The Lindy Hop
and bouncing and jerking to a Jitterbug beat.
Following a path through woods with cousins
for a dip in the creek ranked high on my priority list,
but I preferred to trek there by myself. Even
at that age, I felt separate from the crowd.
Being a loner came naturally. I didn’t have words
then for what the world called me later, but I knew,
for sure, that I was estranged for life.
