If you are lucky enough to catch the gentleman who sometimes sits outside of this address during the day, he might introduce himself to you as Anthony, and you might get an invitation to peek inside, as we did. At first glance, Anthony's address looks like an overstocked antique store: old suitcases, a menagerie of chairs, a spectacular piano, cameras, photographs, and an endless surge of women's jewelry make this place a trip through time and memory - Anthony's life. It was not until we reached the bathroom that we realized, for certain, It’s Time on 7th was not a store at all. He has made his home here for thirty-three years and collected his memories on shelves, walls, and tables. Although this is, in fact, his residence, most folks call No. 102 either "It's Time on 7th" or "The Red Heart", because of two signs that hang in the window. And, when we paused to stare at a photo of a nude lady, Anthony asked us to guess who it was. After a few failed attempts at the right answer, he told us it was Lena Horn’s niece, who he used to "go with" and who passed away at age 24. "A big, big loss," Anthony said gravely. On our way back to the front door he invited us to come back some evening, around 6:30, "to see the place lit up, and next time stay for a cup of coffee." On the stoop Anthony settled back into his chair, where he can be found most nice days, the door wide open and a smile on his face. Truly, we have never met a kinder, sweeter and more genuine man. Don't you worry, Anthony, we will visit you often, we promise.