Sunset Over (The Ghosts Of) Hatch's Bookstore

The best thing about working at Hatch's Bookstore back in the early 1980s was being able to look at the sunset from the large windows at the front of the store.   I am currently working a part time job at a local Denver grocery store on the site of that bookstore (the mall it was in was torn down years ago), and once again have a west looking window that allows me to see those sunsets.  However, to take some of the sunset photographs like the one on the left,  I had to open the door, walk out, and move to the right a bit to get the tree in.  The problem is that the door closes automatically after just a few seconds, and once it is shut you can't get back in.  I snapped the photo and then ran to the door, sticking my arm in the small remaining space to keep the door open.  Made it by the skin of my teeth.  Good exercise, though, and that's the most important thing.

And in the photograph on the right are the actual ghosts of Hatch's Bookstore. Clockwise from the top left are Bruce, who went to work as an archaeologist for the Wyoming State Highway Department and was never heard from again (warning:  that happens a lot to people who move to Wyoming), my friend Stuart, with whom we both still haunt the Old Chicago Restaurant and Bars in Denver and Lakewood, Colorado (see last Thursday's Blog); Carrie, who was - as you can see from the photo - always a bit of a little snot, and last I heard was an editor for a book publisher in New York; my ex-wife Lisa, who now lives in San Francisco, and Maggie, who now runs the Colorado Center for the Book.   Those were the days, my friends, I thought they'd never end.  Now I will launch into that Mary Hopkin song.   Be glad there is no audio or video.