José Pardo leaned back in his lawn chair in Owl’s Head Park. Doreen, his wife and high school sweetheart, listened as he told a recent experience.“ Just the other day, I saw a lady in the park. I thought she was ill, you know. I went to her and said, ‘Ma’am, what’s going on? You alright?’

She said, ‘I’m just taking a moment to hug the tree.’

‘Oh, wow. Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to be right next to you if you need me.’

I went and got another tree and hugged the tree myself. This is part of who we are. We’re connected with the planet.”

Jose and Doreen at Owl’s Head I Photo by Avian Hall

Owl’s Head Park is far from what Pardo, a Bedford-Stuyvesant Heights native and self-described “ghetto rat,” experienced as a child. Owl’s Head caps a string of green parks that runs along the Narrows Straight in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Bay Ridge is known as the setting for Saturday Night Fever, the home of Blue Bloods NYPD commissioner Frank Reagan and the last stop on the slowest subway line, the R. Unlike Saturday Night Fever and its grooves, Owl’s Head is tranquil.

The park is circled by a path where runners, bikers and squirrels compete to see who is the fastest. The squirrels play dirty. At the Northeast corner, there are basketball courts with baskets but no nets and a skate park with bowls and ramps but no bars. In the Southwest corner, a dog run is flanked by the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, and just beyond the BQE is the Narrows. As long as it is winter and the leaves are gone, a hill, speckled with trees and paths, provides views of the water, the Verrazano Bridge, the skyline and dogs kicking up dirt in the dog run.

At the bottom of the hill, the Pardos relaxed across from the playground and behind the small brick building of bathrooms. After 63 years, the thrill of New York City has waned.

“I liked it as a kid, but as you get older, it’s a big difference,” Pardo said.

Pardo always watches his back for any danger. He remembers learning to fight as a kid even though he did not want to. Now he feels less able to protect himself.

“I ain’t use to be being pushed, even as an old man. I wasn’t pushed as a kid, and now I don’t want to be pushed as an old man. That’s why I’m trying to get out of here before it’s too late.”

A world traveler, who appreciates different places and cultures, Pardo finds Owl’s Head to be a place where he and his wife can find what he enjoys in his travels.

“There’s a certain amount of diversity here that I think we should all have,” José said.

Behind the Pardos, a group of a dozen Arab women, some in hijabs and others in full niqabs, sat on blankets spread under a tree. They laughed and chattered. Their kids ran from the playground to their mothers, who served tea, flavored with cardamom and sugar, from large carafes. By the playground, Manuel rang a bell to attract customers to his ice cream cart. A few of the kids dashed over with a wad of dollar bills to purchase cones. Manuel sells his ice cream in other parks, but he prefers Owl’s Head.

“It’s always busy, especially in the summer,” Manuel said.

Cindy Zhu ran down the hill with a kite, shaped like a paper airplane with streamers attached. She turned towards her toddler daughter, Yiyi, and husband, Eddie. She slowed to a stall and the kite floated down, entangling itself in the string. Eddie worked to untangle it. Cindy’s family likes Owl’s Head best in the fall; they once camped in a tent during the day to escape their apartment.

“I like it. I like it a lot. It’s very cozy,” Cindy said.

Owl’s Head is one large event center. Under the pine needles, the remnants of parties protrude, such as plasticware, bottle caps, juice box straws, confetti and silly string. While Val’s family celebrated her son’s first birthday, another group was finishing their service. When the weather is pleasant, Jason and his house church use the park as a retreat from the cramped apartment where they usually meet.

“It feels like family,” said Jason, who comes from a traditional brick-and-mortar church background but found a strong community in his Bay Ridge house church.

Jason’s family exited the park as the sun began to fall behind the hill. The sun illuminated the orange and golden leaves. Yemeni men, dressed in their traditional white garments with curved Jambiya knives on their waists, smoked on benches. In Owl’s Head, you’re more likely to see men like these than a drunk Travolta look-alike dancing in white disco pants.

Avian Hall is a writer and photographer for the Empire State Tribune. He is a freshman at The King’s College majoring in Business Management.

Escape to Owl's Head