January 26, 2005 § Leave a comment
“Who’s that?” I said, pointing to the wall.
“Um, that’s FDR.”
“No, under him.”
Underneath the huge portrait of FDR hung a curious object in Manuel’s Tavern. We all looked behind the bar, above the various bottles of vodka, scotch, and liquors, to the small wooden encasement attached to the wall. Within its confines was a simple, golden urn.