Hammerin'

In our house, we like hanging things on the walls. Not for us the cool, austere elegance of a single perfectly placed black and white image of the Arc De Triomphe at sunset, or one of the flaring brilliance of the Alps at high noon. We hang all kinds of things. In the den we have a topographic map of the high plains (we picked it up at a map store in San Francisco during our honeymoon). In the kitchen we have a poster from Chez Panisse, two whiteboards, two calendars, and a corkboard. In the hall is a barometer. In our bedroom, a photograph of San Francisco Bay, a poster from American Rivers, and a drawing that our daughter made when she was about six. Lots more. It's not cluttered, exactly. We just have a lot of stuff.

But the thing I just hung downstairs -- and I'm hoping the weight doesn't yank those picture hooks out of the drywall; no bracing behind them, and I didn't want to go find wall anchors, a decision I may come to regret -- is something special.

Back when EDS was alive, and doing things, we had a program of support for Robert Ballard. He's the guy who headed the team that found the Titanic. To commemorate the program and the find, a poster was made, showing the sunken ship in ghostly waters, and a few words.

When the people who disassembled EDS into HP had their way with the floor where I used to work and where my wife still does, they tossed a lot of the pictures that were on the walls. One of them was this one. My wife retrieved it -- for the memory, not only of the Titanic but of EDS -- and she brought it home. I found it leaning against a wall in the den, tonight. And I thought That deserves to go up.

And now, it is.