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How to Play in a Sprinkler
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Memoir

How to Play in a Sprinkler

Three generations of New Yorkers relish the finest summer pleasure the city has to offer—a sprint through shooting walls of water.

Lilly Dancyger
May 28, 2013
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How to Play in a Sprinkler
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Illustrations by Dakota McFadzean

The sun cooked the water off the cement, creating a thick smell. The New York City version of fresh-cut grass, this was the smell of summer. The water from the sprinklers was icy cold, so even though the air was heavy and hot and the sun unforgiving, I could only stay under the frozen shower for a few seconds at a time. My cousin Sabina and I ran in circles, darting in and out of the sprinkler and shrieking. Now when I hear children playing I sometimes wonder why they always have to scream, but then I remember the thrill of trying to outwit the water, to get cool but not cold, and it seems perfectly appropriate.

I spent almost every day during the summers of the early nineties in the sprinkler park in Tompkins Square. Sometimes my mother was there, but usually the playground was a trip my father and I took together. He sat on the bench close enough to see and hear me, but far enough away that his book wouldn’t get splashed.

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