Battery Park: Set Me Free
By: Deb Vai
Tags: Freedom, Spirit, Battery Park, NYC

As I ride the 4 train down to Bowling Green, I find myself holding my breath, eager to climb the stairs and exit my Spaceship — the Bowling Green station. Every Saturday morning my spirit bursts out of the station and I take a deep breath and look up — here I am. It’s at this point that I truly start to relax from my week. I have arrived at my peaceful place. The Battery is an oasis for me, with its lush green trees and lawns, and spectacular flowers. As I cross into the park I look up, at the Whitehall Building and One World Trade Center beyond. They are waiting for me, and I will visit them, but first…

Battery is a busy park, runners, bikers, dog walkers. But though New Yorkers always move quickly, it has a more laid-back feeling than Central Park, where folk always seem to be trying to put on their best face. But maybe that’s just me. I’m a downtown girl, and being at the Battery, where it all began, just feels right.

I walk on the edge of the Battery Bikeway, noticing how the plants have grown during the week. Every week there’s a different flower in its full glory, and something else that’s fading away. And, if you look, you can catch a glimpse of the blooms yet to be. Sounds like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, lol.

Before I take the curve in the path I turn back for one last glimpse at my Spaceship. The place where the transformation happens. Then I turn forward and dive deep into the park. Pause and pay my compliments to 17 State Street and its rich, blue curve. I take a right towards the SeaGlass Carousel. This lovely building beckons me with its giant pastel, frosted fishes. I’ll never forget the first time I saw and heard it in motion, with Alex on Independence Day weekend 2019. The mystical music fit the lovely fish just perfectly, a ghostly, yet peaceful melody. I want to ride one.

Down to the waters edge; I want to hear the waves splash on the rock wall, and give my salute to Lady Liberty across the harbor. If I’m early enough I’ll see the older Asian man who exercises at the waters edge, jumping high and swinging his arms in a controlled, fierce motion.

Bagel time. The sparrows come to me for crumbs, and I’m happy to oblige. Once one took a crumb from my palm. Strangely enough, I rarely see seagulls here. Half a bagel and I’m ready to move on. If I’m lucky I’m able to snap a photo of someone seeing the Statue for the first time. Even better if its a child; listening to them yell “There she is!” to their parents is a joy.

I cruise my usual haunts: the Lawn where dozens of pups and their owners romp and chase balls; “The Immigrants”, sculpted by Luis Sanguino, who perfectly captured the emotions of gratitude and ecstasy over a tortuous voyage being over; Castle Clinton, lorded over by dozens of pigeons. And the Battery Bee Village — how wonderful to see a million honeybees coming and going on a warm summer morning!

Soon I’ll be turning north into Wagner Park. The blooms there are gorgeous too, but a little less wild, a little more meticulously maintained. Give me my Battery, my deep green leaves, ocean breeze and the feel of ancient rock beneath my feet. The spot where thousands of people arrived, with hopes and dreams. The place where I find my own freedom: Battery Park.