I looked up at the clock tower that rises above this district and discovered it said Bromo-Seltzer. Hence the name Bromo Arts District.

It also seems to be the Erstwhile Banks District. My hotel and several other nearby buildings are old banks, with the stately architecture of 19th century capitalism: no first-floor windows, Corinthian columns, high and sculpted ceilings, the bank’s name carved above the entrance like Ozymandias’. Oh, and the art is about money and wanted bank robbers.

In the convention center hotel–not the one I’m staying in–I saw this poster of a writer I love. Makes sense, as Poe is one of Baltimore’s most famous children, but it turned out it was marking the door to the Poe Room. Can you imagine: a meeting in the Poe Room?! I’d be afraid the door would be bricked up and we’d never escape.

The Calloway Room looks like much more fun.

As far as I can tell, there is no John Waters room. Regrettable.

I helped staff Harvard Divinity School’s booth for a couple of hours. About half of the people who swung by were interested in seminary, and half wanted to say “Stay strong, Harvard!” Amen. I think Harvard learned from Columbia’s experience what Columbia should have known: the only reward for giving a shakedown artist what he wants is to be shaken down more.

After dinner with West Chester, PA’s minister, Dan Schatz–he’s my bestie from seminary, and with our birthdays a week apart in June, whenever we’re both at GA we have a birthday dinner in between–we came outside to light rain and bright sun. The building we’d just exited blocked our sight of any rainbow, but we walked around it and there it was!

People congratulate me wherever I go, and it takes a few minutes of conversation to discover whether I’m being congratulated for 25 years in ministry (the ministers have a service celebrating 25- and 50-year anniversaries, so people know), my retirement from FT work, my completion of a long ministry in Palo Alto, or Indigo’s graduation and college plans. This is how lucky I am.

I sang in the choir for the Service of the Living Tradition (celebrating milestones for religious professionals), something I’ve done only once before. It was an utter joy, and also I now have an india.arie earworm.

I have taken almost no selfies despite running into a zillion dear friends and colleagues. I rush over and hug, but it doesn’t occur to me to snap a picture. Sorry, y’all. I hope you know I love you.