I'm sure I've posted this elsewhere, but I used to walk past the No Exit on the corner on my way home from work, during a few months when I lived in that neighborhood with my older sister. Poor, with a low-paying job-- all of that "young" stuff. I was so shy back then-- much shyer than I even am, now. The pictures on the walls and the music, the sound of the espresso machine, the whole atmosphere-- what can I say; one night it sucked me in to see what it was all about and I was brave enough to ask what a cappuccino was. And that was when I met folk music. In the succeeding weeks, Art was there with his saw. Vivian and Jim Craig; John Benischek; I have no idea now who else. I'm still looking for the painting I shouldda bought. I can see it now as if I DID buy it. I bet Art will remember it-- the tense-eyed kid holding a rooster at the edge of a cockfight.

And from that beginning I made friends, got brave enough to travel to the Barbarossa and make more friends, learned to play backgammon (I still have that board), and-- I got a life! :~)

~Susan