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A long time ago, in a dorm far, far away…

I don’t know that I can say what Demarest Hall was. I can only speak to its influences on me, which I will do in a post, anon.

Meanwhile, I can definitively say that Demarest taught me how to properly have a Sunday morning.

Other people may have gone to church, but that wasn’t for me.

My church community was the people who wandered downstairs after a Saturday of typically brainless debauchery (or sometimes mindful debauchery) and convened in the Main Lounge for bagels, coffee and The New York Times.

(If you were lucky, someone would provide musical accompaniment, though many of us were happy with quiet.)

There we were, 15 or 20 people laying on couches, chairs and floors, sipping coffee, turning pages, and discussing news of the day. A holy experience unto itself.

Still, to me, the best kind of Sunday morning.

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