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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