Post from Orient Lodge

It was a winter Saturday evening in a small New England College town in the mid nineteen-seventies. It could have been just about any such evening, because there was a similar pattern, a similar flow to such evenings. I was a dorky townie living up on Henderson Road looking down over the Village Beautiful. I sang in the school choir and played in the band; not very well, but enough to get a little bit of a sense of belonging. I wor ...