I swapped my hands into my pockets for warmth as I rode, choosing my path carefully to avoid needing to take a lane on a bridge busy with late-morning rush traffic due to construction elsewhere. The goal was obvious, but the timing gave me a heavier heart than it might have been otherwise.
Five minutes before the appointment, I locked up the bicycle and walked inside, hoping my hands would be warm before another was offered to me to shake. I had my fingerprint card and my birth certificate, and within minutes I was being briefed by the attorneys who'd be filing my name change petition. But as I signed several copies of the document petitioning the court to legally recognize me as Daria Phoebe Brashear, I was distracted by the previous day's news that the first Brashear optics factory, probably visible by squinting out the window behind me in the office tower, was being demolished.
If he was "Uncle John" to those who held him in esteem, I'd hoped that the preservation of this site would provide people also with a view into the role of his beloved, "Aunt Phoebe". Today, though, it was clear that was not to be.