It was the grandest park I'd ever seen, if you didn't count the royal gardens of Versailles which were marked with the beauty only an excess of wealth could afford. Tall, wrought-iron gates enclosed the area - the sign above proclaimed "International Peace Gardens". We'd been once before, but that was several months ago and in the dark. It was the park I'd labelled Narnia after C.S. Lewis' books, for it held two lion statues - one I called Aslan and I decided the other was the lion who had been turned to stone in the White Witch's courtyard, for I fancied I could see markings about his nose which Edmund had made in his disrespect. How interesting that that battle between nobility and rudeness raged in my Narnia as it had in C.S. Lewis's! Upon the hill just across the pathway from the stately lions stood what could only be the stone table upon which Aslan was slain.
The park was separated into areas designated as different countries. The gates were closed on this visit, so we walked around until we found a break in the wall- it entered into Korea. Or rather, what used to be Korea. Evidence of what must have been a handsome structure remained- tiles still clinging to the walls and a plaque which read, "Here used to stand the Korean Peace Temple". Moving past the desolate scene, we came to the life-size harp of Wales - a personal favorite. France held a miniature Eiffel Tower. Vietnam was the country of my two Narnian lions. China had quite a set-up, with a small gazebo and bridge (crossing a man-made pool which was bone-dry) flanked by two lions which were very different from those of Vietnam- shorter, more square, somehow less majestic and more mysterious.
Pointing to China's lack of water and the empty flag posts which had proudly waved flags from every country over their contribution to the park the last time we came and the closed state of the front gates, my husband suggested the park may be closing - a thoroughly depressing prospect which made me feel as though peace itself were fleeing from the world and all the promise which had held strong, though it was never fulfilled, was leaving with its namesake- The International Peace Gardens.
Much subdued we continued through the park, beauty everywhere, but scarred by the subtle and obvious defects purposefully made. Sweden bore a plaque saying it had been there since the 1950s but- apart from that plaque- there was nothing to see. Switzerland was the most impressive. A huge, man-made rock represented the Alps. In front of this stood a little wooden cabin and little wooden paths and bridges wound between these structures, various rocks and trees as they transcended different levels. Disgust washed over me as I noticed the offensive spray paint- on the rock, on the cabin, on the bridge.
Having noticed the graffiti in its prominence, I began to notice it everywhere. Small carvings on wooden poles, painted letters on bridges, every bench held two or three indecipherable symbols which crudely branded the scene.
In the center of the park stood a circle of wooden posts, each bearing a different language and an emblem of that county's flag, each wishing peace and prosperity to all, standing in a mighty circle carrying the symbol of the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics. Our symbol of unity - our pride and connection to the wider world - an event of athletic prowess, where talent, challenge, perseverance, all things good which people strive for, an event inspiring people to do their best-to BE their best, and one of the few things in this world where peace is prominent as differences are set aside in favor of these beautiful qualities for which we all strive. A teenage boy walked up to this great gathering and began kicking repeatedly at one of the posts, again and again, trying to knock it over. An overpowering rage filled my entire being at the ignorance and complete lack of respect this portrayed. I realized that seeing the graffiti was sickening, but, being complete in its destructive influence, it had happened. To watch this evil take place in front of me, to see quite literally the symbols of all that was best in this world being knocked down by such malicious ignorance, was insufferable. I opened my mouth but my rage made me mute, which infuriated me further. What possible excuse could people have for committing such crimes? Why do they feel the need to destroy all that is beautiful and good? I passed judgment contradictory to the peace I felt violated that such people who had no regard for anyone else's property or hard work, or even for the prosperity of the world as a whole, deserved only the ghetto and ought to remain their for the entirety of their lives because, at least there they would have nothing of beauty to destroy. Those who have no respect, no appreciation for the such beauty and blessings, don't deserve to have it.
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