Maybe they'll figure out what we were thinking Parody: There is a lot we'd like to bury with Baltimore's bicentennial time capsule. Please, don't open till 2097.

November 04, 1997|By Arthur Hirsch

As the finale to Baltimore's 200th anniversary celebration this year, the city will bury a time capsule at the Inner Harbor on Dec. 31. The capsule, a steel box about the size of a microwave oven, is to be opened in 2097.

The question is, what to put into it? For months the city has been accepting suggestions through forms included with city water bills and via its Web site -- http: //www.bicentennial.com. Suggestions are welcome until the end of the business day today.

Folks have suggested such things as an episode of "Homicide," an MTA bus pass and a letter from Mayor Kurt L. Schmoke to the Baltimore mayor of 2097. Nice ideas, but whatever else the city does, it should make certain the capsule also contains:

A "City That Reads" poster attached to a video explaining what "reading" was.

A photograph of an actual bookstore.

A Polo Grill cocktail napkin on which Mayor Kurt L. Schmoke sketched his four-point program for avoiding plutonium fallout from the Cassini space probe.

An actual cigarette butt from the sidewalk outside the Legg Mason building before smoking became a felony punished by lethal injection of nicotine gum.

A dish of tomato aspic from The Woman's Industrial Exchange left over from the time capsule buried in 1897.

A photograph of the 2 O'Clock Club as it appeared before the Disney Corp. took over The Block and made all the women dress like Goofy.

A baseball signed by Cal Ripken Jr. (Big deal, he's still in the starting lineup in 2097. And darn it, the back still hurts.)

A Renaissance Harborplace cocktail napkin on which developer John Paterakis detailed his plan to shorten the distance between the proposed Wyndham Inner Harbor East Hotel and the Convention Center. (Two words: cab fare.)

A souvenir glass from the Hard Rock Cafe to commemorate the golden years before Donna's restaurant took over the entire Power Plant, replacing the giant neon guitar with a monstrous loaf of focaccia.

A telephone message, not returned, from Gov. Parris N. Glendening to Larry Gibson.

An actual Atlantic blue crab, recalling the good old days before the creation of a new Chesapeake favorite: Pfiesteria Imperial.

Peter Angelos.

Pub Date: 11/04/97

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