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Show -330- 0n his last v i s i t , the Professor met xrith the iainter xrho had a t one time planned to paint his p o r t r a i t . Today, the and the Professor painter and his wife/xrere s i t t i n g drinking xrine a t a kitchen table. When he f i r s t arrived, the Professor had asked him how his xrork xas going, that they spent the next t h i r t y minutes in the p a i n t e r ' s studio, an old carriage "house in the backyard, looking over his most recent xrork. Noxr, st the kitchen table, they xrere talking about the s t r i k e . The Painter xas impressed by the fact that a l l members of the xrriting program, including some he had knoxm xrhen they xrere stud.ents hero, xrere on s t r i k e. He asked about the painters. Were any of them on strike? "Some a r e , " the Professor told him. "I don't knoxr how many, because I don't knoxr many members of the Art Department." The painter asked other questions, xrhich the Professor answered by enlarging upon what he had said in his talk the night before. Suddenly the painter f e l l s i l e n t . The Professor and the p a i n t e r ' s xrife continued to talk, but soon his silence became too obvious to ignore. "A perpjiy for your thoughts," his wife said to him. The painter, who had been leaning xrith both arms on the table, jerked upright, almost as though he had been awakened from sleep. "What xrere you thinking about?" "I xas just thinking -wondering. If the same situation arose here - who on the faculty xrould go on s t r i k e , xrho xrouldn' |
