Maurice Weitman on fri 23 apr 04
I sit in my son Mike's house in suburban New Jersey, across the river
from where I once belonged, to witness his marriage tomorrow. I got
to be "grandpa" for the past eight hours to Mike's two kids (from
another movie). And on the way here from Newark Airport, Mike's
bride-to-be Stacy's daughter asked if she could call me Grandpa!
Such a deal! Life is beautiful.
It's after midnight here, but my body still is at about 9:30 pm,
California time. Enough awake to check out clayart while
contemplating the "best man's" toast he asked me to deliver tomorrow.
It will be more than an honor to do that, and my only fear is being
able to keep from getting too ferklempt whilst delivering same.
But I pregress...
I've walked the 500 yards between moving walkways on the way to and
from the gates in the United Airlines terminal at San Francisco
hundreds of times in the twenty-three years I've lived there. More
often than not, there is a wonderful exhibit of art, craft, artifact,
etc., to entertain and astonish the traveller who'd rather walk
leisurely to/from the gate than "pull an O.J." as I've had to do
myself from time to time.
This morning I arrived nearly an hour before flight time and was
pleasantly surprised to find and meander among a few dozen showcases
of decorative tiles, most from the 1920s and '30s, lining this hall.
Many of the tiles shown were made in the Bay Area, some in Europe.
They made me long for a time when buildings were designed with an
artistic eye for detail and the care that many of us take with our
I'm not sure for how much longer it will be there, but if any of you
are at SFO and have the time, I think it's worth a slight diversion
to see it.
(Barbara Brown... wanna meet for lunch there?)
Maurice (in New Jersey, FROM Brooklyn, living in Fairfax, California)