And Then . . .

This is the aftermath of the preceding post. BTW, the "My head hurts" comment at that post is from the Link Monster himself.

All that happened in the mid-eighties. In 1992 I moved to the east coast for six years, but came back to the Chicago area for a week every year to visit my friends.

It must have been around the 1996 or 1997 vacation that we had our nickel-dime poker game at the Link Monster's apartment. By then the local watering hole had been purchased, razed, and rebuilt as part of a different chain.

On entering the apartment I was shown *the bench* - the wrought iron bench that had provided so little comfort to Link. After the bar had closed for good, but before it was razed, Link and Jeff (R.I.P.) had stopped by one night and wrestled the bench into a vehicle, liberating it, if not from further abuse then at least from abuse by others.

Link's married and a father now, entering middle age and somewhat calmed down, and last I knew the bench had been delivered to his mother, safer with her than at any time I knew it.