I have a vivid memory of a young woman who lost herself.
On a Sunday afternoon during the early 1940s after the war had started, we went to dance at the Rice Hotel with the guys from the USO.
As I put my arm out to push through the revolving door to the hotel, I noticed a girl on the other side of the glass. My impression was that she was one the cheap side, loud and brash, a real chippie. The door swung open and she stepped on to the street. At that moment, the handle of her purse broke and the contents spewed all over the sidewalk.
And what I remember to this day is that the girl, who to me looked so cheap and brash, simply dissolved. In an instant she fell to her knees in tears, gathering her belongings. Facade fell away.
Who had she lost there on the sidewalk? |
