Bench Assignment

Walking through the tranquil streets of residential Lynn Valley, I ended up at a cul de sac. At the end of it was a trail leading into a forest. It led into Doran Park, a small wooded area in the neighbourhood. I took this trail, walked along the path for several minutes, and ended up at a clearing. From this spot, I could see the water flowing in the nearby stream. At the middle of the clearing stood a single bench. It was a plain looking bench at first sight, built with regular wood and metal, without any exceptional ornaments or designs; but its location was striking. It was dedicated with a plate nailed to it, with “Oma’s (Hilde) Bench” written inscribed in it. It was so plain, yet somehow seemed so special. I was probably fourteen years old when I first walked past this bench.  I was adventuring the neighbourhood with a few friends, trying to find a new shortcut to my friend’s house. When we walked past the bench, I felt a sudden urge to sit on it. I wasn’t tired, my feet didn’t hurt, but the bench seemed so inviting that I could not resist. The bench was surrounded by luscious green grass, some flowers, and with birds singing their sweet song on the trees. Several years before this, my sister had written the notorious bench project in her English 12 class, and I knew that I would have to write a similar project when my time came. At this point, I knew that I would write about this specific bench for the bench assignment. When the project was assigned, I did not hesitate to choose this bench to write about, although I had not visited it in a few years. The bench was still in the same place, but was no longer surrounded by the same perfect grass. The stream had partly dried up, but still had some water flowing through it. However, the bench itself was the same as it had been a few years before, still capturing my attention as soon as I saw it.

Sitting on the bench, the first thing I see is the stream. The bench is built so that it faces the stream, perfectly aligned so they are parallel. I see a squirrel run by, surprisingly unmoved by my presence. The sun is shining through the trees, its rays peeking through the canopy of leaves and branches above me. The grass that used to grow around this bench is now gone, instead the area is simply covered by regular forest ground. In the distance, I see a few large houses with their backyards leading into the woods. I think of how privileged the kids growing up in those houses are. When I was a kid, I could only dream of a back yard leading into the forest. At this moment, I feel thankful to be living in such a beautiful city, with access to so many areas as breathtaking as this. I hear the calming, rhythmic sound of the stream flowing through the park. I smell the clean, crisp scent typical to British Columbia forests. This smell makes me feel at home more than any house, friend or neighbourhood. It gives me a sense of belonging: not just to this park or neighbourhood, but as a part of the world and its beautiful nature. At first, I was sad to see the park looks slightly different from how I remembered it as a kid. Mostly, I missed the grass that grew so healthy around the bench. However, I notice the trees have gotten a little bigger.The rose bush that was a small plant before was now large and blooming with gorgeous white roses, filling my lungs with its fresh aroma. The wind was blowing has been quite strong today, hitting you like a whip. However, as soon as I stepped in the park, it seemingly disappeared. Although this park is in a residential neighbourhood, the sounds of the stream drown out all the city noise. I feel sheltered and comfortable here, as if this bench was built to grant me safe haven from the outside world.

 

If a bench were to be dedicated to me, it should be in a location with a spectacular view. The bench could be either high on a hill or mountain or down by the water. If it is up on a hill, the bench should be close to the edge of a cliff, where a bird could jump off and spread its wings in flight. That way, whoever is sitting on the bench could look over a grand area and feel small, like the earth in our universe; like a sand grain on a beach. The bench should not be nailed to a concrete block but connected to the roots  of the nearest tree. This way, it shifts its position together with nature around it, progressing with the surroundings rather than staying locked in time. On the contrary, if the bench were located by the water, it should be in a slightly remote location. It should not be built in a popular spot where hundreds of people walk every day. If it were dedicated to me, I would prefer the bench to be in a remote location by the water, where few people go each day. This way, the bench is the only one in the area, and will surely be appreciated by whoever sits there. Since I would not dedicate a bench to myself, if such a bench were built it would have to be dedicated to me. In addition, if someone is willing to go far enough to dedicate a bench to me, they must have some type of meaningful connection with me. Therefore, the inscription they place onto the bench should be that person’s choice. It should simply represent how the way the dedicator saw me, and maybe even the impact I had on them.

If a bench were dedicated to me, its location and inscription would vary based on the dedicator. Similarly, If I were to dedicate a bench to someone, its location and inscription would vary depending on who it is that the bench will be dedicated to. If I dedicate a bench to someone in my family, I would place this bench in a location where we often go as a family. It could also be in a place where we shared a great memory: I might place it at English Bay, in front of the ice cream shop where we went in the summer when I was a kid. Since relationships with family members are so intricate, the inscription should be simple: it would not be possible to reflect every single aspect of a person or a relationship and fit it on an inscription plate. However, a simple sentence describing the person would suffice. If I were to dedicate this bench to an outgoing, social friend, I would place it in a busy area. For example, the bench could be placed on the seawall with an inscription such as “May your eternal light shine on all those that sit on this bench.” If it would be dedicated to a slightly more shy, introvert type of person, I would request for it to be placed in a remote location near the person’s home. That way, the person’s family and the people closest to him/her could appreciate it the most. The inscription on such a bench would likely be similar to the following: “the cool, collectedness of John is reflected in the repetitive waves hitting the rocky shores of this waterfront.”

When I walked into Doran park for the first time in several years, I was a little disappointed at first. I was comparing my current first impression of the park to my vivid memory of stumbling upon it several years back. When I first came to this park, it led onto a patch of soft green grass, which had seemingly disappeared without a trace. The clearing used to seem grand and massive, while now it was simply a nice clear space, fit for relaxing and other activities. The more I observed this park, however, the more I noticed how little had actually changed. Apart from the grass being absent, little was different. Water still flowed in the stream, the trees had only gotten a little bit taller, and birds were still singing in the branches. Most importantly, right in the middle of the clearing a bench still stood, the same bench that captured my attention several years back. It did not fail to do so once more, as it is undoubtedly the first thing I noticed as soon as it was within sight. The bench still had the inviting feel about it, almost begging me to sit down and relax. I did just that, and began to appreciate its magic. I sat there for quite some time, reflecting on the experiences I have had over the past year, and those that await me next year.

A Day In The Park

In the park, I’d been all day
Reading all my time away
On a park bench did I sit
Until the sky became twilit

As light for reading began to wane
I heard the tapping of a cane.
And looking up, to find that sound
‘Twas an old man which my eyes found

Bent of stature, with shuffling gait
And cane helping support his weight
He moved toward me in twilight glow
The beard he donned was white as snow

His hooded cloak there in place
Hid from view his bearded face
But … he moved on steadily
And closer then he came to me.

My gaze shifted to my book
As his passage overtook
My presence and my train of thought
On that park bench I had sought.

Then, unexpectedly,
I found the man right next to me
The hooded shroud was still in place
Preventing me to see his face.

Without a word the man sat down
And to my face that brought a frown
This bench I wanted not to share!
Yet he sat down without a care.

In protest was I about to speak
When he lifted his hand antique
And then in voice commanding low
“I’ve something you should know”.

By his voice was I hypnotized
My entire being was tranquilized
I stared at antique hands so pale
Then began the old man’s tale:

“You’ll find a house not far from here
Filled with loathing, filled with fear
And you might wonder how I know
My presence here makes it so”.

“The house, it sits on Wilsons’ Hill
All abandoned, cold and still,
Trees stay barren, grass won’t grow
And constantly do ill winds blow.”

“Birds won’t fly, dogs won’t walk
Stray cats don’t even stalk
Across or near that House of Hate …
Listen now … it’s getting late!”

“From deep within that house at night
Emits an eerie, glowing light
Oh, that light … I know it well,
It’s emitted - straight from Hell!”

“Once a man of youth was I
Having aspirations to the sky,
And senses of immortality
And those of curiosity.”

“‘Twas one summer long ago
On a dare I was to go
Walk inside that House of Hate
Then return to re-instate,”

“Our belief and then decree
The house contained but normalcy.
I took the dare - I walked inside,
And since then … I there abide.”

“Now, ’tis only once a year
That I’m allowed to quickly veer
Outside it’s walls, and rusted gate
And find someone to share my fate”

“To embrace the horror I’ve endured
To expand the evil I’ve assured
To return with me and be my mate
And share the Evil House of Hate.”

The old man then turned his head,
And as I looked, with growing dread,
His hooded shroud moved in place …
At last I saw his bearded face.

Within two hollows dark as night
His eyes were embers burning bright
And just before he cast his spell
In those embers I saw Hell !

Reaching forth his ancient hand
Whose touch would be my deadly brand
I jumped back, as I screamed
I was quick, but slow it seemed.

I grabbed the cane, swinging hard
And caught the man quite off guard
I heard the thud, and filled with fear
For his status was now unclear

But … for all the things I feared
I found the man had … disappeared.
No shoes, no cloak … it was plain
Left only was his walking cane.

Many years of time have passed
And I can tell you now at last
‘Twas the cane that held my fate:
I live now, in the House of Hate.

And now, too, I will stride
Through that park and take a ride
On a soul of someone there
And to you, dear reader, I say … BEWARE!

-Jack Clark

When I first read this poem, I was held in suspense from the first line until the very last one. The narrative style of this poem depicts an epic tale of a man who went to the park and sat at a bench, to encounter a mystical man. This man is depicted as death, having come “straight from hell” with his “hand antique” and “white beard.” This man lures the speaker and tells him his story, and later attempts to “bind him by spell.” The speaker, however, seizes the old man’s cane and strikes him with it. To his great surprise, the old man then disappeared. The poem is quite metaphoric, as the old man and the cane are used as symbols. They together represent how people’s choices can decide their fate, and how important those choices may be. After all, the old man became a hound of hell after he had made a poor decisions he admitted to. Similarly, the speaker decided to hit the old man with his cane, and now suffers the same fate as the old man he struck. This depicts the cycle of negativity that can take place after one person makes a mistake. That person often tries to pass the blame onto another and acts badly towards others, creating a cycle of negativity and hatred.

This poem clearly depicts the importance of one’s actions and the consequences that might come as a result. The old man is represented as a mean, gloomy character. It is later understood that he got to this position because of mistakes he made in his past. The speaker later reaches the same fate, having fallen into the cycle of negativity and hatred by hitting the old man with his own cane. Now, he continues this cycle by preying on people that sit on the same bench he had sat on, continuing the cycle he has fallen victim to. This can easily be related to the world we live in, where our actions speak far louder than words. Most clearly, it can be seen in working-class and poor communities. In such places, society has failed the community by placing them in such neighbourhoods. Most people that live in such areas are not given much of a choice, as it is the only living space they can afford. They are also given poor reputations, mostly due to the high level of crime, violence, and drugs that are often associated with these neighbourhoods. The government often gives less importance to them, and the rest of society tries to steer clear from them, turning a blind eye to the problem. This is precisely the reason that people in these situations turn to violence, drugs and crime. They witness such problems from an early age, and later fall victim to the same fate. Since society has failed them, they turn against society and resent others that are not in their situation. The cycle continues, with little improvement. The poor get poorer, and the rich get richer thanks to the poors’ labour. A cycle of negativity is hard to be stopped, but is easily created. However, a cycle of positive actions and vibes can be started just as easily. When one helps another or gives charity, it urges others to do so as well. In our society, we already have more than enough negativity and hatred. It is up to us to start a cycle of positivity, where one neighbour helps another. This way, society will be able to thrive and people will become more fulfilled and content with their lives.

Parks are build as a place for people to enjoy themselves. They often contain playgrounds for people to play in, sports fields for playing sports, or flower gardens to please the eye. They are places where a community can come together; a space no person owns, where anyone can enter freely. People can gather at parks to connect with others, or to disconnect and feel at peace by themselves.  Large parks often serve as nature preservation sites, where people are not allowed to hunt or cut down trees. This is important in our society, in which hundreds of species are endangered. Humans living in large cities often feel disconnected from nature, and parkes give these people that strange sense of belonging. I find parks of all types to be wonderful places, for all the above reasons. I have spent much of my personal time at parks: from being pushed on a stroller to relaxing and reflecting, shenanigans with friends, hikes and adventures. I have many memories at parks, and value their importance in communities.

The Test

I know this world

is long and wide

I want to explore it

with companions by my side

There are mountains tall

and deserts dry

where if you fall

you’d start to cry.

But don’t cry today

for the fact that you got up

is in every way

more real than the fall

The true test comes

when a hurdle appears

the sparrow no longer hums

but towards it you must steer

The hurdle might seem high

it might look far too wide

but hard as you may try

from it you cannot hide

But as you come toward it

from the path that you have climbed

it sems to just get smaller

or maybe you’ve become so large

with each fall

you’ve grown an inch

with each tumble

gained a pound

All of these gave you the skills

and now the hurdle is but a step

and if yourself you try to will

even this hurdle you overleapt.

As you finally finish

this mountainous climb

your thoughts relinquished

and you look around

More mountains, more rivers

with lions and zebras

waiting to be seen

ready to be discovered

And from the peak

you’re off to the next

where will it take you?

Let’s take the test.