Park space comes in a couple of distinct varieties. First, there are those swatches of jungle speckling the map; the old-growth, thousand-acre preserves that muffle the sounds of motors, block the views of buildings, and launch your thoughts out of this stultifying alleged civilization for a few hours. These parks are mistresses. The other main sort of park, the wife parks, are those that nestle into the cityscape like oases, as if air and grass and peace and physical joy belong in your average day. Count the 13-acre park that horseshoes around Lauderhill's City Hall and library among the latter category. After civic meetings, residents cross the parking lot to play cricket on the lighted field. Kids clog the basketball courts just steps away from the Boys & Girls Club. A waterfall rolls out of the back of City Hall into a small lake. Tennis and racquetball courts, a playground, and picnic pavilions -- all surround the most staid of civic strongholds, a bit of country in the city, freeing us even inside the grid.