We all lived together in a large four bedroom apartment in Evanston. I believe this photo was taken on the last day we would be together, before Bob took off (for San Francisco?), and Robert, Bill & I rented an apartment across from Wrigley Field. We each paid $90/month rent for a 3-bedroom apartment. That neighborhood was a ghost town then. Made even more ghostlier by the huge monolith of Wrigley Field, which I walked past every day. We were there from like October to April, when there were no games being played (because, of course, the Cubs were not in the playoffs.)
And I still remember the -80 degree wind chill, waiting for the El to take me into the city, where I had a waitering/bartending job at a Rush Street restaurant.
This photo was also taken, I think, a day or two after our most bonding experience, one which we will never forget. It involved all of us dropping acid, playing frisbee on the lip of Lake Michigan, looking at ants and flowers in the Shakespeare garden, listening to Mozart, and examining the many colorful layers of a candle.
These days, kids do drugs to dance and have sex. But then, especially as theater majors, we used it for mind expansion, and as a conduit to an intense bonding experience.
I couldn’t sleep at night, and around maybe 6 AM, I went for a run. It was late August, and most students were not on campus,
Lake Michigan was beautiful and serene.
It was that lovely early morning time when no one was around. It was if I were jogging past my home of the past four years, the cocoon of college, and savoring the experience the four of us had just shared.
It was if I were running away from the safety of college, but also running towards something – the unknown. It was scary, but also exhilarating. We were 21 years old, our whole lives ahead of us. I ran towards the possibilities.