Nothing like a 90-degree day to make you want to spend some time shirtless in the sun, and that’s true whether you’re a woman or a man. Thankfully, we live in New York City, where women and men have the equal right to do it.
Ten of us made the trek out to the little sylvan grotto in Central Park known as “Strawberry Fields,” near where John Lennon lived and died, and yes, there really are tiny strawberries growing there in the grass. (No, we didn’t eat any.) Several birds came to say hello, also one tiny slug. We got curious looks from several school groups and packs of tourists who walked past on the path beyond the fence, and a visit from two friendly police officers who said they told someone who complained to them about us that we were entirely within our rights and didn’t have to do anything different. Chalk one up for the NYPD.
One trio of obnoxious guys made loud remarks as they passed and then seemed surprised when we said no thanks to their offer to come sit with us. But most people just gave us a passing glance or a smile. “Are you New Yorkers?” asked one gentleman, and when we said we were, he replied, “God bless America.”