The Right Place

Yesterday, I found my new office at BU.

It is in the same building as Agni.

The lobby floor is tiled, in the tiny tiles characteristic of turn-of-the-century buildings in this part of Boston. The ground floor is a warren of tiny rooms. My office is one of them.

The office is bright. There are three windows, of which one opens. Another is a big bay, a little like the one that graced my first apartment, in Back Bay, years ago.

All windows still have the original moldings, complete with dentils.

A bay window! Dentils!


The office also has a French door, with period hardware, and a transom window over the door that looks like it might actually work. I don't check, though. Period fittings can be fragile.

Fragile as academic jobs.

As I make my way out of the building, headed for my class, a young man holds the door for me.

"The last gentleman!" I say, grinning. Does he get it?

He smiles back, then smiles bigger. Yes, he gets it. He does.

If I don't outlast the fittings, I hope at least to give them a good fight.