An Ode to Station Park

An Empty Station Park, Leonia, New Jersey (June 2011)

I drove by Station Park the other day. She was freshly mowed but the dew did not arrive on this sweltering, late spring day. I’ve always thought the park gets lonely about this time of year, when softball season ends with a loss for every team except the champion and little girls in sparkling softball uniforms no longer come to the field because suburban life has called them on to the swim club or early soccer practices. Station Park used to get two glorious months a year of softball, but now not enough girls in Leonia sign up to have their own league. So they play their games in New Milford, and Station Park only gets a few boys’ teams’ practices or starter league games. The girls are there no more.

It is the saddest thing in the world to see a field grow lonely. You expect winter’s frigid air and snow to let the field rest and renew in winter’s solitude, but when spring and summer only bring a few ball games and some solitary sandlot games, it breaks your heart to see a field like this. You think back just ten years ago when your older girls played and the town had a league. Little girls descended in droves on Station Park, who was so happy then, so in her prime. I’ve seen twenty girls from Englewood jump out of five SUVs and come running late for a game. This lateness of an opponent irritated me, but Station Park just wiggled her outfield grass as a breeze blew through the towering trees that hummed in delight. To her this was a triumphal entry of pure joy. You could see Station Park loved cleated feet on her dusty, diamond infield as she flaunted her chalky, white stripes for all to see. But now, she is there, alone, waiting, hoping against hope for ball players to dig in her dirt and for parents to sit in her shiny metal bleachers. She is losing heart though. She has a perfect, petite build for little girls softball—a  short right field and a playground for smaller siblings just beyond left field—but she’s too small for much else except maybe a soccer practice or two.

Empty Bleachers looking on at Station Park (June 2011)

Sometimes the thing you have always wanted to do is not there for you anymore and you have to move on. I’ve always told my girls how lonely I thought the field looked, especially about November as the trees shed their leaves and the chilly air pushed people indoors. In those days, at least, Station Park could always look forward to a spring awakening, a resurrection to another season of games. But now, her demise appears inevitable.

I, though, will not forget spring evenings just before dusk when little girls chanted softball songs to the opposing team and Station Park was loved.

Station Park is my favorite park in Leonia. It has a softball field, playground, and small picnic area, although it is overshadowed by Bergen County's Overpeck Park.