The search "recreation" yielded
41 articles

Tavistock, New Jersey’s smallest borough, is 95% greens space. (Greens, not green.)

A few lifetimes ago, when I lived in the northern suburbs of Chicago (the “North Shore”) I would routinely drive along Golf Road, an east-west arterial linking the city of Evanston (where they called it Emerson Street) and the seemingly never-ending concatenation of suburbs to the west.  Continuing westward, Golf Road eventually terminates in Elgin,

Resistance to Russia reaps rhetorical rewards in Riga.

I usually wait more than a few weeks before I offer a follow-up from an earlier post.  But if I learn something new almost immediately after posting—sometimes as a direct byproduct of the initial article—then I’m more than happy to revisit the subject, offering new insights or corrections as necessary.  More often than not, the

Hollywood Gateway: a pocket park with a preconceived plan. Will people partake?

Far be it from me to turn into a crotchety old killjoy who lambastes every pocket park I find, but I already did it once a few years ago, for a tidy but neglected little mini-playground in Alexandria, Virginia.  Since a bigger, higher-profile, and splashier (literally) play area stands just a few blocks away, my

Glenwood Springs: so much to do that they could only fit some of it under a bridge. (MONTAGE)

Glenwood Springs, Colorado is a fun town.  That’s its brand.  It aspires to be one of America’s most recreationally-minded small municipalities—really more of a tiny city—and it routinely makes the top 10 lists among various outdoor-centric periodicals, as I covered once before.  Sometimes it reaches a bit further, placing on lists of all-around best and

Hopscotching: supermarkets locate and re-locate. Why can’t gyms?

My latest article is on Urban Indy. It represents a sort of sequel to an article I wrote about 18 months earlier, where I followed a single Kroger supermarket on the south side of Indianapolis as it kept changing locations–four separate places in about twenty years, all new construction. And none of those locations were

Storefront movie theaters are icons. So why is it so hard to keep the lights on?

It’s hard to imagine any American town of a certain size—small enough that most would still consider it just a town, but big enough that it probably fits the political classification of a city—that doesn’t have, or at least had, an old storefront movie theater as part of its main street.  Everyone knows the type:

Kokopelli: a mascot for Moab?

The earth has revolved around the sun quite a few times since I patronized a restaurant called Kokopelli’s, a little boutique burrito joint on an obscure intersection near Claiborne Avenue in New Orleans, which did not re-open after Hurricane Katrina.  (Yep, that long.)  Time has relegated this hapless sole proprietorship to such obscurity that there’s

Kokopelli: a mascot for Moab?

The earth has revolved around the sun quite a few times since I patronized a restaurant called Kokopelli’s, a little boutique burrito joint on an obscure intersection near Claiborne Avenue in New Orleans,

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