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1985.  I attended a showing of the band 10,000 Maniacs at the Renaissance Theatre located on Liberty Pole Way in Rochester, New York.  They were this long distance, small time, local band which traveled from Jamestown New York; a couple of hours away.  This was about the third time my roommate John Gwinn brought me to see them. I think he always got a kick how I used to talk about her all the way home and until I fell asleep in our dorm room.  Natalie this.  Natalie that.  I think it was great that he always was able to get us tickets to go see them.  He had all the connections.  He was a disc jockey at the college radio station.  Once in a while, in the middle of the night, one can hear, “This is John Gwinn.  And, you’re listening to WITR 89 point 7 Henrietta.”

She showed up late and placed her overcoat over to the side.  It was one of those tweed patterned thick overcoats, probably purchased from a local Salvation Army.  They were really popular in the Eighties. She apologized to the crowd and motioned the band to start.  Of course, she sang beautifully.  It neared the end of the night, and I made my way up to the front.  She took a seat at the piano and started playing.  It was different from the rest of the material. Quiet; just the piano. I had tunnel vision by this point.  All my peripheral vision had been distracted.  One must have wondered what I looked like, because this eighteen-year-old-with-a-fake-id felt hypnotized.  It was at this point, this very moment, center-of-the-universe-feeling, that she stared directly at me, endearingly, singing, “Verdi Cries.”  It was this way for most of the song; just me and Natalie; Natalie and I.

 
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