While walking past the First Baptist parking garage today, hoping for another glimpse of Robert Jeffress in his ill-fitting suit, looking like Josh Baskin at the end of Big, something on the ground caught my eye. It was a postcard with an old steamship on it. Previously, the most interesting things I’d seen on the ground around there: a tag from a fancy wig for black ladies and an old remote control.
I picked it up and flipped it over and, I guess I already spoiled the suspense, it was postmarked May 3, 1914, in Detroit. And it’s addressed to a Mrs. Henry Miller, referred to in the salutation as “Hattie.” From the real estate empire family? I can’t tell. Anyway, but if you’re missing it, it’s on my desk. If you’re some sort of weird, steam-punky time traveler, on the other hand, and the postcard is the key to unlocking some world destroying riddle, it is absolutely not on my desk, and I’m just making up stories again. Pics after the jump.
