The Memory Palace: True Short Stories of the Past

by Nate DiMeo

The regional headquarters of the Otis Elevator Company in my hometown is a one-story building.

You should never turn your back on the sea.

Considering other competing visions of America at this late hour, the national parks can seem less an idea than a minor miracle.

He found as much beauty and fascination in transportation routes as he did in the movements of celestial objects.

He said that if someone knew, as he did, the routes of the nation’s streetcar systems, knew the fare structures in every municipality, knew the rules and formulas that governed the use of transfer tickets, it was possible to ride from one point on any streetcar line to any other point on any other line.

This was the best way to nearly die. I was in mortal danger but survived. I was in constant risk of death but never afraid.

This was Aaron’s birthright as much as his name or his own intellect or his bad eyesight: an understanding that the people who did things in the world were just people. And that meant that anyone could do things in the world. Even me.