We were maybe an hour and a half out of the city headed toward Grand Central on a Metro North train making last minute plans to hook up with Duane when he got out of work. He had some shopping to do in the East Village so he suggested meeting down there. It occurred to me that we would be in Greg Highlen’s neighborhood so I emailed Greg (he and we are some of the only people I know without a cellphone) and he said he could meet us in Washington Square Park. I was able to text Duane back minutes before we went underground and magically all three parties found each other near the fountain under the arch in the park.
It was a gorgeous day, sunny and cool, like one of those trippy Spring afternoons in Dunn Meadow on IU’s campus. Duane and Greg had never met but hit it off and between their conversations Peggi and I talked Bloomington ’69 – ’72, the years we hung together.
When I first met Greg he was an art major living not in a dorm but in his studio in one of the Fine Arts buildings. He talked of the trailer as a creative hub and despite downsizing his art collection has hung on to a copy of Rich Stim’s “Trailer Tails.” By chance we ran into Greg in the Village in the early eighties but hadn’t seen him since. Now he’s on top of the art world, living in the same fifth floor studio apartment for the last thirty eight years.
Before we met in the park I joked that we looked exactly the same. We didn’t but we sure acted the same.
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A picture of Greg circa 2015 would have been nice Paul.