To further explain why I felt the need to attend Eastercon earlier this year and plan to attend it again in 2027, it's because Donald Trump and the Republican Party have transformed my country into one I can no longer recommend any of my friends visit.
![A couple sitting on a couch, the woman handing an open book to the man. But what makes the panel strange is the window behind, which is filled with a pipe-smoking man spying on them.
HER WORD BALLOON: "I just finished the most wonderful book, Steve! If you'd like I can loan it to you!"
HIS WORD BALLOON: "I'm not much on reading' books, Carol, but I guess maybe I'll give this one a try!"
[from "Nothing But a Memory," published in Heart Throbs #26, January 1954, artist uncertain, but perhaps W. G. Hargis, writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreidpublnx24i4jkialvd2ayoszw7zhtmffgszo3yoijxucxwj7t2j4)
![Dear City Reliquary:
While visiting your marvelous museum last week, I realized that an object which I have carried with me through four states over 33 years should from now on reside with you. And so enclosed please find a very special brick.
The Fulton Theatre opened in 1911 at 210 West 46th Street. But that isn’t the name under which I knew it, for it was renamed the Helen Hayes Theatre in 1955, the year of my birth, to honor the great actress of that name, and was demolished starting on March 22, 1982, after a temporary injunction was lifted.
The theater world was aghast, and there were many protests and arrests, but nothing could stop the machinery of progress from tearing down the historic theater.
Christopher Reeve said during those final protests (as reported in The New York Times), ''Even if they win today we must never forget how we feel here.’'
I did not forget. On April 27 of that year, I squeezed over the wooden fence protecting the site and retrieved a brick. A brick which I am now handing on to you.
How can I be so sure of the date of my acquisition of this brick? Because on April 28, I made the following entry in my journal.
[I then inserted a scan from my diary which included the following handwritten entry: "We had dinner before the show, and while wandering the Times Square area I was aghast at the pile of rubble that was the Helen Hayes Theatre, the demolition of which was begun while I was in Oregon. I picked up a brick by leaning over the protective wooden fence, and it is now sitting on top of one of my shelves."]
Can I be sure that this brick is from the Helen Hayes Theatre, and is not the detritus of a nearby souvlaki stand? I cannot. But until proven otherwise by experts in the history of bricks, let us maintain that it is.
I have treasured this memento for 33 years. Now it’s your turn.
Sincerely,
Scott Edelman
October 23, 2015](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreiecizv3ggbvimia5ks323pxjlk4arprvxkavgwd2hk2mry267dhly)
![A pipe-smoking man offers a stack of hardcover books to a woman.
HIS WORD BALLOON: "Tonight I want you to start reading these books! If you get to know them you'll be able to hold your own in most discussions of literature!"
HER WORD BALLOON: "Oh, my! They look so ... so ponderous!"
[from "Made Over for Love," published in Heart Throbs #23, October 1953, artist and writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreia4cku34di263segmopcvf6vpogl4lmxucsh3ep5chy6htmmf6wpy)
![A couple sits on a couch, the man holding the woman's hand, while another woman looks on from behind. Neither of the women seems happy.
HIS WORD BALLOON: "My darling, your eyes are the color of new dollar bills, your teeth sparkle like precious gems, your hair is like burnished gold coins, your lips ... "
[from "Mother Knew Best," published in Heart Throbs #19, March 1953, writer and artist unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreiavou4bmh35u2365tgzk2qahzgjzymwunqxdigwlditbuxacay6ni)
![A sad woman standing behind a couch considering the older sullen couple sitting on it as far apart as possible.
HER THOUGHT BALLOON: "I'll make my own way in life! When I'm older I'll find a job and forget that men even exist!"
[from "Don't Mention Marriage to Me," published in Heart Throbs #17, January 1953, art by Ogden Whitney, writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreifznowioolwkpuljhti7akgvvnr7m3hfjb4yhlssydegzjq6cdiq4)
![A woman seen from behind walking down a lane surrounded by greenery. She's wearing a blue dress.
HER THOUGHT BALLOON: "I'll look in the mailbox and see if any new novels have arrived."
[from "The Chains of Hatred," published in Heart Throbs #7, August 1950, artist and writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreic2fsqphfrte2fdipdattl3hpasvfxl663impt3laesrlsss62u3a)
![A man in a purple suit and smoking a cigarette in a holder is gazing out a window onto the streets of a big city.
HIS THOUGHT BALLOON: "The heart of a nation ... and I almost control its pulse! They shoved a platinum spoon in my mouth when I was a kid, and now I've got lockjaw! I'm gagging on a fortune other men spend their lies acquiring!"
[from "Turmoil," published in Heart Throbs #7, August 1950, artist possibly San Citron, writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreidaequxz2smj5gwtlz4f7lwg34ru3kx4pj2vunws3slaepzldkiuu)
![Extreme closeup behind a woman as she's being hugged by a man. One of his arms is around her waist, and she's reaching back to grab a statuette of a naked woman on the desk behind them both. Force lines are radiating off the point where her hand makes contact, indicating something dramatic is about to happen.
[from "Passionate Journey," published in Heart Throbs #6, June 1950, art by Bill Ward, writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreihfp2vi5lnlylnm5ht5vxsnasandtqpgskwzahe67ccsjjyejjzp4)
![Extreme closeup of a woman in tears dabbing her face with a handkerchief.
HER WORD BALLOON: "If only a thunderbolt would take me out of my misery!"
[from "A Private Matter," published in Heart Throbs #4, February 1950, pencils and inks by Gill Fox, writer unknown.]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:ac2kmpveixxnm4cp4janyafx/bafkreibn6vtlqim3ztl6wnj7tu3k5n4wlvj23mmtdeqpxauqzljd2ilwsu)
