Parks have changed a lot since I was a kid. Before the pooper-scooper laws, they were a smelly experience, and sitting on the ground required a careful scouting of the terrain. They were lonely landscapes of balding grass and slatless benches, with deserted playgrounds and bushes housing peculiar men.

All that has changed. The City Parks Department has transformed them into fragrant jungles of exotic plants and flowers, crammed with people yakking on their cell phones as they walk their thousand-dollar dogs.

And local Community gardens have blossomed where vacant lots once meant rats and tetanus shots, with dedicated volunteers devoting their weekends and evenings to nurturing these city oases.