An Obit for People's Park

John Doherty nearly made me cry with his sad goodbye to a scruffy chunk of a scrippy-scrap city:

It's always been a park by default.

It's an empty lot next to the Newburgh Ministry soup kitchen, where for decades those clinging to the bottom rung of Newburgh's ladder have gathered.

It's a stretch of weeds right off Broadway where wanderers passing through the city rest a bit, cadge a swig of Thunderbird wine, maybe spot a familiar face.

"We sit down, we drink our beer," explained Edward Morales, 43, yesterday, shrugging. "We've always been here. We don't bother nobody."