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Just Imagine. . .

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Just Imagine. . . The 1960’s and 70’s were a wild a wooly time for education and when I was in graduate school I encountered some teaching techniques that were a test for my farm boy upbringing. It got so when I’d enter a classroom and the professor would ask us to take off our shoes and sit in a circle I’d suddenly get an urge to instead go grab a cup off coffee in the school cafeteria. One professor of school administration insisted on playing Beethoven in the background of each of his lectures. Many of my musician friends will attest to the fact that they have trouble going to sleep with music playing in the background. If you know something about music then you think about it instead of the matter at hand, whether it’s listening to a lecture or trying to get some sleep. . . and in the case of this professor, both at once. One class in Adolescent Reading Materials was especially interesting when the prof asked us to clear our desks out of the way, lie on our backs, and take part in an imaging exercise. I’m not sure of the purpose of this training. In fact, all I remember is that the floor of the classroom at Western that morning was exceptionally cold and that I didn’t have a pillow. She asked us to close our eyes then she guided us through a myriad of relaxation exercises followed by a trip through our childhood. We did this all without the benefit of Beethoven. In fact, if I’d had the proper sound effects for my childhood they would have included the sounds of Angus cows wanting to be fed, my dad singing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” when it was time to go cultivate corn, and the roar of a hay elevator shooting bales my direction in a hundred-degree barn. But after this long winter. . .and they seem to be getting longer as my knees and hips continue to age. . . I’ve wondered if a bit of imaging might be helpful. I was huffing and puffing my way around the Jacksonville Square last week, unsuccessful in trying to find a parking place near Norma’s Café, and noticed that my fellow walkers weren’t enjoying their walk, either. The temperature was well below freezing and our only goal that chilly morning was to get the heck where we were going and fast. I tried imaging the typical downtown summer day when Andy Mitchell had the door of his bookshop open, the inner square was being crisscrossed with slightly insane skateboarders, the Lincoln Land students lounged with their Cokes at the sidewalk picnic tables, and the outdoor seating at Mulligan’s and Schiraz were commandeered by the ladies who lunch. The aura I’d created in my mind didn’t last long since there’s something about a winter wind whipping across the square that badgers my imagination, but it was nice while it lasted. Community Park resembled Siberia that morning, but as I drove by I tried imagining the summer parade of doggie owners being pulled through what used to be the most splendid glade in our city. Not a single walker could be seen on that cold morning since some of us go to Florida in the winter while the rest of us are relegated to walking around the JHS Bowl, but I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment at the stoplight and attempted to conjure up the sounds of children squealing their way through the Kiwanis Big Toy, the smells of office workers who’d brought their Big Macs and Taco Salads to the area for a park-and-eat lunch, the sight of the fellow who always reads a book on the bench near the south gazebo, and the pleasant fellow who makes it his duty to pick up trash and stuff it into the baskets of his bike. The honk of a Toyota behind him was a polite reminder that the light had turned green and that it was still February. When I attended school at I.C. I couldn’t have told you were Duncan Park was located, but now that I live just a block away I’ve become with a few of the parks denizens and moods. When it comes to dog lovers, no part of town can match the mini-Westminster pup show that was once home to our former Illinois governor. On tail-freezing days the park is all business with pooches scurrying from tree to tree to complete their duty then high tailing it for home and warm blanket, but just a bit of imagining can summon up mirages of a circle drive with cars parked helter-skelter as their open-windowed drivers snooze off their burgers, power company employees who’ve parked their noontime rigs under an elm to relax, and an acre of dogs with interest in everything but Illinois gubernatorial history. Yes, it’s been a long cold winter, but the promise of spring is creeping up on us like old underwear, so for just a moment. . . .Imagine.