Miracle Playground

A point of view from the post the host on the microphone is a fixture here. With a cross pierced earlobe Mike Donelon underneath a blue ten-by-ten pop-up tent on the greenbelt’s corner on 14th and Pacific Avenue shows the youth how Ghetto Park will be transformed into a miracle playground. Search for it. You’ll get the pinpoint. His team like white posts did not buckle to the battle wearing long sleeves. You’ll get holes in it. The sky on the ground. The coordination efforts remained the same: to namelessly serve. The day-to-day operation and oversight planned inside a work truck planted beside the curb. The moment the white door opens to the street a girl boxer jumps out with a pink collar who wages her tail at diversity. She barks at old white people. Iowa by the sea. Dogs notice integration of an international city.

Street attacks and critics could not wipe out the movement by their downpours. Articulate ankle joints moved away from gunpoints. Issues circle back. Heavy burdens on earth make the tents groan. A cigarette tucked behind the ear. A dollars in coins kept in baggy clothes. We’re setup and quickly broken down. Exchange our tents for heavenly homes.  The handiwork put forth by skateboarders, city officials, Bonnie Lowenthal, Mike, Kris, John and Raff working together at Washington Middle School provides clues on how a bruised community could be restored. The accomplishment made together on one accord. This day you could see throughout the trumpet-shaped blooms of the jacaranda a banner for the Anaheim Angel’s pulled by a single engine plane. This is the day the Lord has made. The Authority of the times. The sign was given. The miracle happened to save the people from destruction. It was not demanded.