Just Mad About Saffron by OTBKB

We journeyed to Central Park yesterday to see
The Gates. At the entrance at 59th Street and Sixth Avenue,
orange curtains were billowing in the breeze. We walked underneath our first few gates and were swept into the intstant joy of Christo
and Jeanne-Claude’s happening.

The
Gates are everywhere: surrounding the Sheeps Meadow, in
front of the Arsenal at the Zoo, by the frozen lake, in the mall
leading to the Bethesda Fountain. We only got as far as 72nd
Street and there is plenty more to see. There are 7500 of them in all and they fascinate from a distance as
well as up close.

While I was watching my daredevil daughter climb some
rocks, I overheard an "erudite" English woman talking to some
friends. Well dressed and middle-aged, she might have been a professor or an intellectual wanna-be. Hell, she might have been "the real thing.

"Do you think each gate works individually or does it only
work in repetition?" she asked her group.

"Personally, they do
nothing for me," she continued. "It’s really just O.C.D. Art of the
obscesssive compulsive. Much writing is like that, too. Tolkien for
example. ‘The Hobbit’ with all its endless details, it’s really more of
a disability than a work of art."

I wanted to shake this
woman upside down. But I just continued to eavesdrop some more: "Well I guess you
have to call it a sucess. They built it. Thousands of people came.
That’s an accomplishment in itself I guess," she said.

I really wanted to say: "Lady, get out of your head. Walk around. Stand
underneath one of the curtains or on that god damn rock and look at the
view. Notice the way the light hits each gate differently. Experience
the exhilaration of being here. Thank Christo and Jeanne Claude for
this exuberant and experiential gift to New York."

Some people just can’t get out of their own way.