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One summer day, Merce Cunningham and I took eight
children to Bear Mountain Park. The paths through the
zoo were crowded. Some of the children ran
ahead, while others fell behind. Every now and
then we stopped, gathered all the children together,
and counted them to make sure none had been lost.
Since it was very hot and the children were
getting difficult, we decided to buy them ice
cream cones. This was done in shifts. While I
stayed with some, Merce Cunningham took others,
got them cones, and brought them back. I
took the ones with cones. He took those without.
Eventually all the children were supplied with ice
cream. However, they got it all over their
faces. So we went to a water fountain where
people were lined up to get a drink, put the children
in line, tried to keep them there, and waited
our turn. Finally, I knelt beside the fountain.
Merce Cunningham turned it on. Then I
proceeded one by one to wash the children’s faces.
While I was doing this, a man behind us in line said
rather loudly, “There’s a washroom over there.”
I looked up at him quickly and said, “Where? And
how did you know I was interested in mushrooms?”
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