Identity Crises



No Way To Escape Those Accusing Eyes
I was very happy to leave 

L.A. When I arrived in Seattle 

everyone seemed so pleasant 

and friendly. People actually 

waved to me as I drove around 

campus! "What a difference a 

few thousand miles makes," I 

thought. Suddenly, things 

began to turn.
   One day, as I was waiting in 
the check-out line at the Safeway, 

the person ahead of me asked: 

How are things going, Bruce?" 

"Fine," I said, "but I'm not 

Bruce." "Yes, you are!" she said 

flatly. And with that she grabbed 

her bags and left.

   The next day, my housemate, 
Ruth, said she had met someone 

she wanted me to meet. She didn't 

tell me why. Instead she dragged 

me to the graduate painting studios 

at the U and as we walked toward 

one cubicle a drawing hanging on 

the door caught my eye. It was a 

picture of me!

   As I entered that space, 
everything came together in a 

second of exploding clarity. 

Standing in front of me was Bruce. 

The resemblance was uncanny!