“In the midst of life, we are in death.” —Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None *** It’s Celebrate Community Day at the so-called Great Park near City Hall. Portable toilets are set up at one end and food trucks are parked on the periphery. Rose and I drift past them, and I slow down, imagining the smells that must emanate from them like auras—Pad Thai, grilled bratwurst, hamburgers, Korean short ribs with kimchi, black beans and rice. Once a fat man, always a fat man. Rose gives me a questioning look and, ashamed, I remember that her experience with food was tragically limited. We sail over the hundred or so white rental chairs that have been arranged in perfectly straight rows before a raised platform on which two women test a microphone, above trash cans placed at regular intervals, shiny white plastic trash bags lining each one, and picnic tables covered in bright blue plastic tablecloths. The industrious Mr.
