On Saturday, we went to a really exciting event. A friend of mine worked really hard to rally her neighborhood and work with the complex political system in New York City to make a new dog park.
We went to the ribbon cutting, and had a great time visiting with our friends and their dog, and meeting some of their dog-friends and dog-people-friends. My friend got to make a speech and everything!
The Kid was a great sport about the whole thing, partly because she loves these friends and their dog, partly because she knew she was on her way to the Star Trek exhibit that’s in town (and yes, that’s obviously going to be another post) and partly because dogs + cookies + Riverside Park in the morning = fun for everyone.
But they kept naming the neighborhood in the speeches, saying things like, “This dog park will benefit all the residents of Hamilton Heights.” And suddenly she said,
“We’re in Hamilton Heights?! You took me to a neighborhood called Hamilton Heights?!”
And for once, we were actually in Alexander Hamilton’s neighborhood. It’s not like all the other Hamilton things in this country, just named for him because he was one of the Founders, or because he influenced someone with money in the area, or something something banks whatever. (Or lately, Lin-Manuel Miranda.) Hamilton Heights, New York is so named because it’s where Alexander Hamilton’s house (I believe the only one he ever actually owned, but I’m not positive. Certainly it’s the one he was living in when he died) is located. In fact, the Dog Run at 142 is about 5 blocks from the Hamilton Memorial.
[sigh] At least she still likes Glee. She watched “Old Dog, New Tricks” with me on Sunday.