How Life Should Be, All The Time (Volume 16, February-March, 1982)
(I moved from the city back home with my mother in a Chicago suburb soon after my father died. I lived with her for almost a year. I was going through a horrible, drawn out break-up and making week-end trips back into Chicago to see friends and maintain my Chicago ties.)
Sunday, March 14, 1982
I thought we were going to his apartment, but we ended up going straight to the movie — or to that area (Rush Street) so I’d have to carry it [my sketch book] all over the place. I made him carry it and then he left it at the counter at Burgerville (where we had a thrilling meal) so we laughed and I carried it. We got tickets first and then ate and then went and stood in line at The Esquire Theater, waiting to get in. As we stood waiting, a really unusual thing happened.
All of a sudden, a guy emerged from the crowd on the sidewalk. He swung me around by both shoulders, stared at me and said, “VALERIE” in a very direct way. I stared at him, trying to remember… He still had his hands on my shoulders. Then he said, “Oh - you’re not Valerie” and he abruptly walked away.
I was dumbfounded. After about a three minute delay, I yelled, “But I AM!”