On display at the Boston Museum Of Fine Arts for a little while longer. There are many correspondences to current events here.
June 6, 1944
My father went off to war from New York Penn Station, and his parents and my mother were there at the same station to receive his body when it was returned by train a year later, shortly after I was born. This photo is not of my mom and dad, but I’ve always thought that it could have been.
The last dreamy new car before General Motors was forced to turn its focus away from the consumer and toward the War effort in 1941.
In Dover, on their way to Normandie.
Waiting in the overheated monstrosity that is New York Pennsylvania Station for my train back to Boston yesterday, I was remembering the beautiful station that used to exist in this space, before it was torn down in the early 1960s in the name of "progress".
And then I realized that I could be standing in the same space as my mother and father stood, sharing a kiss before he went away to war. And never came back. My mother and his parents were there the day his body came back. To Penn Station.