A Memorable Stroll Through Idlewild Park by August Clarke

There is a park in my town that triumphs over all others. Resting in the heart of Easton, Maryland is Idlewild Park, home to enormous oak trees, fun-filled playgrounds, ball-courts, picnic tables, and a large gravel running track. Encompassing the park are rows of old, colonial homes, all connected by uneven brick sidewalks and decorated with a duality of overgrown ivy and pinecones. Rightfully so, the park is adulated for its history and seemingly untouched age.

Idlewild Park is a harbor for social events, community gatherings, and individual recreation. Many would agree that the park’s natural talent is fostering human connection. Meanwhile, others argue that it’s responsible for giving Easton a reason to exist in the first place. Despite these two schools of thought, residents, and visitors of Easton have relied on Idlewild for countless reasons. What makes Idlewild so unique in today’s fast-paced digital world, is the park’s unforgiving continuity – a true American gem. Since Easton’s inception, the park has maintained its role physically and culturally, being the central-most green space, the town of Easton has to offer. 

Originally a fairground featuring horse-races and grandstands, Idlewild has adapted to our present time rather fittingly. Never has Idlewild turned a blind eye toward its responsibility for those who wish to partake in its offerings. Walk around Bark-in-the-Park in April to meet other community dog owners or attend hunting exhibits when the Waterfowl Festival takes over the town in November and camouflage suddenly becomes everyone’s latest fashion trend. One can even watch and admire nationally recognized painters from all over the world competing in Easton’s renowned Plein Air Painting festival. There are always a handful of artists painting in Idlewild’s bright perennial gardens. Whatever it may be, Idlewild Park remains unchanged even when it has faced the harshest consequence of life; time. 

On one summer afternoon, I had an epiphany when strolling through the park. I realized I mistakenly perceived the park as a local attraction, a court to lace-up on, or a meet-up spot with friends. However, Idlewild suddenly assumed a new and deeper role and in that instance, it became less of a park and more of a sanctuary. Idlewild was no longer just a park but, an intimate destination to revere and embrace the emotional attachments of my memories. As I walked along, I realized that I had buried my dearest memories in a hole that was never meant to be covered up. The park communicated in a way unbeknownst to me before. And I didn’t want Idlewild Park, the cultural locality of my entire existence, to be merely a forgotten cause. 

When studying at University, which I now refer to as my “home away from home” — I rarely experienced the weight of how much I was changing and who I was becoming. Grounding the past into the past and speeding through the present to get to where I needed to go was not a healthy life choice, even when I thought it necessary. I decided I would end this habit.

Now, as I return home to Easton, walking through Idlewild park begets the memories that I once painted over as extinct, and hastily moved away. I recall saying to myself, ‘When moments become memories, I rest, and remain unchanged in the face of time.’ I know that I will not always be reassured when I seek refuge in Idlewild Park. Nevertheless, my memories, at least on that day, became less distant and a little more visible. I suppose one historical truth about Easton is that Idlewild Park means something different to everybody. 

August Clarke is from Easton and now attends the American University in Washington D.C.