34 NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER ¢ November 2020
Sunday in the Park with Dave
BY IRENE FRANK
Dave and Abby take a walk in Central
Park every day at 2 p.m. It is their
break from sitting in one position
for many hours at a time, she sitting on a
small Persian scatter rug teaching Kundalini
yoga to her Skype students, he teaching
jazz piano to his Skype students around the
world. Their usual tight quarters on 52nd
Street have felt a lot tighter since the pandemic
lockdown. It is a testament to their
work ethic and their love for each other tht
they can still laugh.
Today I join them. The city is empty of
tourists, cars, shoppers and the sounds of
the “city that never sleeps.” Although there
are no people on the streets, there are people
in the park, people you might not ordinarily
encounter. Central Park is their sanctuary, a
place for self-reflection and self-expression.
These people know every inch of this oasis
in the middle of the city. They have chosen
their places for the day. Some set up in the
shade, some follow the sun, some are near the
water fountains and others take to the open
ballfield. Some come with a purpose in mind,
others because they have no other place to go.
As we enter the park, we come upon a young
girl sitting on a bench. She is wiping tears away
as she hums John Lennon’s song, “Imagine.” Her
eyes follow the imaginary line from the apartment
building where Lennon was murdered to the mosaic
circle on the ground with the word “Imagine” in the
center. Fans have made this pilgrimage for years.
The song is just 22 lines long; it encourages the
listener to simply imagine a world without politics,
religion or possessions, where all people live in
peace.
We see small family groups of every ethnicity
wheeling their baby carriages, enjoying the fresh air
they don’t have at home, exposing their children
to the beauty of nature.
Under the Bethesa Fountain overpass, some
homeless men have found shelter. Each huddles
in his own space and in is own head. They find comfort
here, knowing there are others like themselves.
Coming from the tunneled darkenss into the sunlight,
we watch a Fellini-esque scenario unfold. A
very pregnant teenager wearing an Isadora Duncan
outfit is prancing around the fountain. Her belly
protrudes through the diaphanous fabric of her
tunic. I catch sight of her red thong beneath. I find
out that she used to be in a modern dance troupe in
Hell’s Kitchen. She dances with abandon and there
is pure joy on her face. She realizes this might be
the last time she enjoys this freedom. She doesn’t
care who judges her. Suddenly appearing on the
scene is an old, wrinkled African-American women
holding a saxophone. Without asking, she begins to
accompany the dancer. No words are spoken, but
they nod to each other and continue their duet.
A young man playing a one-stringed Chinese
instrument decides to join in the fun, as does
a boy in lederhosen playing polks music on
an accordion. The cacophony is unbelievable.
On the other side of the Bethesda Fountain,
a Sikh couple elegantly dressed in traditional
royal garb, are practicing for their Indian
wedding. They are visibly annoyed at the
demanding photographer. They look at each
other and strip off their clothing, exposing
torn jeans and faded tee shirts they normally
wear. Luckily, their grandparents are not here
to witness this heresy!
Further on, we see a fashion shoot. The
tall, slim model wears a sleek, short cropped
haircut, a man’s black silk suit, starched white
shirt and purple stiletto heels. The logo on the
camera says, “New York Attitude.” The scene
is in such stark contrast to the previous one
that I laugh out loud.
We reach Poet’s Walk, a path lined with
bronze busts paying homage to the great poets
of the past. On a bench a young man in a
velvet 17th Century costume plays the lute,
completely oblivious to the roller bladers
whizzing past him.
Several steps away a paraplegic in an army
uniform shouts his “Hello” to Dave who regularly
drops dollar bills into his Dunkin’ Donuts cup he
keeps beside him for handouts. He sits alongside
a man who is mumbling to himself. He must have
been a numismatist in his former life because on
the floor are his coin collections and a beat up
fedora carrying a sign written in script, “Foreign
coins only, please.”
As we approach the exit, I spot an ancient
Chinese couple practicing Qi Gong. Their very
slow but precise movements bespeak of the patience
and strength of their culture.
The sun is setting and the walk is over. It has
been a treat for the sense and I know I will always
remember this extraordinary Sunday in the park
with Dave.
Walter F. Cameron, North Shore Towers
resident, dies at 93
BY QUEENS COURIER
STAFF
Walter F. Cameron, Sr., of
North Shore Towers and
Boca Raton, Fl., died
Sunday, Sept. 13, 2020. He was 93
years old.
Cameron enlisted in the Navy Air
Corps in 1944 at the age of 17. After
serving, he worked as an advertising
executive on Madison Avenue for 9
years, before starting his own advertising
agency in 1977, Walter F. Cameron
Advertising, Inc.
The agency specialized in consumer
retail and then branched out into
other industries. The agency grew to
become one of the largest automotive
agencies in the country.
Cameron retired in 1990. After retiring,
Cameron moved to Boca Raton
with his wife Carole, where he lived
until his passing.
Cameron was a member of
the Woodcrest Country Club on
Long Island and the Boca West
Country Club.
His death was preceded by his first
wife, Kathleen, daughter Barbara and
brother Dr. Joseph Cameron.
He is survived by his wife, Carole
Kissel Cameron, his son, Walter
Skip Cameron, Jr., and sons-anddaughters
in-law, Angela Cameron,
Bill Shacter, Scott and Reina Kissel,
Todd Kissel and six grandchildren;
Kaye Shacter, Brian Cameron, Matt
Cameron, Ilan Kissel, Alex Kissel and
Sofia Kissel.
Photo Courtesy of Carole Kissel