Shelter From The Storm, circa 78-81...

One of the all-time great lines in cinema is Charles Laughton's Quasimodo capering back to Notre Dame and yelling "SANCTUARY!". It's often been satirized, but there is also something archetypal in it, especially for the young. Sometime between the ages of, oh, 15 and 25, who hasn't felt themselves to be the hunchback, the outsider, in need of a place of calm and some cheer? We look for that place to escape, to cool down; and sometimes we find it.
It was thirty years ago this month I had the pleasure of first meeting my friend Nancy. She was dating my old pal, Edmund, and I started hanging out with them on weekends when I was back from school, and long after I dropped out. Several of you reading this did likewise. Nancy's place quickly became what I like to call The Home For Wayward Adults. Our little band might fluctuate between half a dozen and ten; but there were always people there, and the atmosphere was always friendly. It was where one could go, just to hang out, nurse a hangover or shoot the breeze. All was presided over by Nancy, who was generous to a fault, with her patience and her home. There was always something to eat, and one of my fondest memories is of the pot of chili that seemed to perpetually be available. It tasted great.
An evening might begin or end there, maybe both. I associate at least one marriage with Nancy's place, and quite a bit of the drama and fun, lessons learned and brain cells lost, and just the general living that goes with those times. And I don't want to make it out like this was some dive-like crash pad. Quite the contrary, she had a very nicely furnished townhouse in Western Alexandria. We loitered in quiet style. I'd also like to mention that there was certain innocence to it, (at least in my opinion, although that may say more about me than anything else - so be it). If I'd had kids, I'd hope they'd find similar friends and locales.
Situations change and we've all moved on, and some of those people have even been lost track of; but for a couple of years, hers was the place to hang out at. I write this little missive for several reasons, because there's Al Stewart on the stereo and Cabernet in my glass; because I hope that those of you reading this who are in your teens and early twenties might look for and find a such a friend and place; and to thank Nancy for a generous spirit and putting a little meaning into Dylan's old lyric for giving me, (and others), shelter from the storm. Thanks, Kid.