I must have walked through Grand Central Terminal a thousand times. But still there are moments when a new detail emerges. Was it always there trying to get my flagging attention? Or did something change to make it apparent? The new terminal in the basement has altered the architecture of the place, which is maybe why I never noticed this handwritten arrivals board that suddenly appeared to me behind glass like a detail from a Twilight Zone time travel episode. When was it from? Was it authentic or was it something found in the archives and made to look as if it were in service. A couple things I noticed right off: the immaculate handwriting. If this was indeed a relic from another age it's consistent with previous eras' obsession with penmanship. My father's handwriting - honed over hours of lessons at private French schools - was immaculate. My own was likened to chicken scratch and shocked my mother into enrolling me into a summer school program for remedial handwriting. (oh, the humiliation). Before keyboards become attached to the ends of our wrists people had to be able to read your writing, so a lot of effort went into teaching the proper way to form an "e" or an "o". This person was obviously an A student. The next thing is the names of the various trains. When did this practice end? It was probably the same era as telephone exchanges with evocative names like "Kenmore" "Baldwin" or "Murray Hill." And finally, the category heading "will arrive about" is a specific kind of anachronism. Casual, almost folksy even in a metropolis like New York. This tone has for the most part been superseded by digital precision and computer chip accuracy. For better or worse.
 

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