In the 1960s, the small park on the corner of the Post Road and Main Street was called “Needle Park.” Supposedly, teenagers shot up heroin there.
In reality, the spot — adjacent to what was then the library, graced with benches, flowers and a fountain donated by the Sheffer Family — was a great place for playing guitar, protesting the war, hanging out and making out.
The library moved across the street. Shops and banks (and Starbucks) moved in. The park fell into disuse.
In May, it was bulldozed. A construction worker assured me that, after renovation, it would still look like a park.
More like a parking lot.
“Public access” continues to be guaranteed, I am told. But the only “public” that will ever set foot on that uninviting expanse of concrete that once was Needle Park is whoever goes into whatever store happens to have its door there.