The resident moose in the lobby of the Mount Washington Hotel, reminded me of Grace Enman’s story of seeing her first moose.
She was just a little girl, maybe four years old, in downtown Berlin. She held her father’s hand tightly as they walked up several flights of stairs to a lawyer’s office in one of the big buildings on Main Street.
Her father sat her down in a big chair – it was so big and she was so small, her legs dangled.
Then she looked across the room, and there it was: “My first moose!” Just the head and rack, of course. She said, “I thought the rest of it was in the other room.”
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