This is a memory of the Bergmann Hotel. This was years ago now before phones were smart enough to ride around in your pocket, much less take pictures and videos, so this memory is in my mind’s eye only. That morning I entered the building through the rear door, the lower entrance leading to the bar and restaurant, which were closed, so I must have come through a hallway. When I looked up toward the front entrance I saw Pat Barrett seated in profile just inside the glass-paned doors and it was his niece Maureen, I believe, who stood behind him with scissors snipping at his hair. The spring sunshine poured in behind them, and maybe their hair wasn’t illuminated quite so fiery red as I remember, and maybe his mane wasn’t quite so huge and unkempt as I recall the scissors flashing in the sunlight and her curls probably didn’t really cascade clear to her waist, but they were beautiful in an intimate family moment, and I stood in the shadow watching, grateful for the gift of that moment.