The doors leading into Convention Hall have been unlocked. On Saturday afternoon I wandered around. There were flying angels…
…and a ceramic stove someone must have imported from India that is not at all original to the building but still lovely to behold:
Convention Hall is a grand old building with grand old bones infused with grand old memories.
Here’s to the summers of the ’60s, when the age of 60 meant old like Mrs. Tashlick old. We were barely teenagers.
We applaud the cool heads that prevailed and kept the trains running on schedule today — no worries about how to get to work this morning. So for those of you who are hanging out and waiting on the platforms, we offer a few shots of what you may not notice. As you know, we celebrate beauty in unexpected places.