Paved Paradise

 
                                                 They paved paradise and put up a parkin' lot
                                                 With a pink hotel, a boutique, and a swingin' hot spot…
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                                                 They took all the trees, and put 'em in a tree museum
                                                 And they charged the people a dollar and a half to see them

                                                Don't it always seem to go
                                                That you don't know what you got till it's gone
                                                They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot…
 
As I pulled into the parking lot of a large local shopping center, an earworm wriggled to life inside my head:  “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot…” an old Joni Mitchell hit.  I smiled to myself at the memory and the words, and I thought it might be time to hit the pavement at my favorite tree museum, The Franklin Park Conservatory.

I went into Staples and purchased ink cartridges for my home printer.  Finished with the errand, I stepped to the automatic exit doors.  As they slid open, I heard it.

Like a graceful flock of birds, the notes rose on the air and danced in the twinkling and brilliant sunlight of an unseasonably warm winter day.  I was propelled in the direction of the sound and the light.  Somewhere nearby, a violin played Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.  The music was so moving that I felt the urge to both weep and dance at the same time. I was not alone in this.  At that very moment, the doors of Target slid open and a tiny preschooler stepped onto the sidewalk and immediately froze in his tracks.  His mother tugged on his arm, but he was there to stay, eyes wide and pointed in the direction of the music.  Surely, the child saw it for the wonder that it was.

We both stared at a man standing next to a portable speaker.  We watched as he swayed and slid the slender bow across the strings of his violin.  The instrument’s case lay open beneath a sign sharing news of the man’s financial hardships--his need to pay his rent and support two children.  As I dug deep inside my purse for cash, I heard a couple walking by saying it was probably a scam.

I was taken aback by the irony of the situation:  people flocking to this shopping center to purchase without question food, pharmaceuticals, and other merchandise from companies that overcharge us, produce products that harm us, and create waste that destroys our environment, yet this gentle man producing beautiful music was suspect.  His performance was just too foreign in this land of parking lots, boutiques, pink hotels, and swinging hot spots.  In the beauty of the moment, I pledged my allegiance to the wide-eyed child still capable of trust and wonder.  I took what cash I had and dropped the folded bills into the open violin case. “The world needs more music,” I said.  The violinist nodded his thanks and continued to play.

Filled with anticipation each time I step out onto a parking lot, I bring cash…and I listen. I hope to hear the stop-you-in-your-tracks sounds of that magic violin.  Though I wish him well and that all of his needs will be met, I pray this street musician never stops playing.  The world needs more music and a little bit of paradise in every paved parking lot.