While I was vacationing in Southern California, I stopped inside an art gallery in Pasadena.  The attendant/owner was friendly and he looked familiar.  I looked around, taking all the time I wanted, and focused briefly on a street scene painting, somewhere in Barcelona, it looked like.  “That’s one of mine,” the gallery owner remarked.  “Only $3500, not a bad deal.”  I smiled weakly at him.  I couldn’t read his signature at the lower-right-hand corner of the painting, so I asked his name.  It rang a bell somewhere in my mind.  “Have you—lectured before?”  He laughed and said, “I lecture all the time.  I teach at the Art Center College of Design right here in Pasadena.”  I explained to him that I was from out of town, visiting friends, from Chicago.  He laughed again and said he used to live in Chicago until seven or so years ago.  He got tired of the winter weather and applied for a different position.  Then I remembered.  We had gone out on a date!  I had attended a lecture he gave on antique art in Chicago at Circle Campus, where I was studying for my Master’s in History at the time.  Peter had invited me for coffee and the next thing I knew we had gone out on a dinner date.  The conversation had been pleasant, as had the restaurant; I later found out he was married and had four grown children.  Behind that mustache and long beard, I couldn’t be sure it was him.  But he didn’t appear to recognize me, so I thanked him and left.