The other evening, a group of my neighbors held a candlelight vigil at a house that may or may not soon be demolished to make way for a modest apartment building (“120-year-old rooming house: Preservation or demolition?” March 18).

I can’t help wondering what went through their minds as they stood on the sidewalk in front of the house. Did they marvel at the not-particularly-graceful arch of its roof? Did they close their eyes and imagine the beautiful T.P. Healy masterpiece hidden behind the walls (a significant degree of imagination being necessary, as the original facade has long since burned down and the entire structure enclosed in hideous pea-green siding)? Did they reflect on how, should this blocky three-story dwelling be replaced with a blocky four-story dwelling, the neighborhood would surely never be the same?

Did they ever stop and think about how, while many terrible things are happening in the world, here they were, holding a candlelight vigil for … a house? And an ugly house, at that.

Will Stancil, Minneapolis