1
Tempo 2 Section 5 Chicago Tribune, Wednesday, June 10, 1987 Tales from the front And her looks rolled his socks. "She had the unique ability to look like a cool, striking, raven-haired model one minute and then with a simple smile to become a warm, open girl-next-door. When we danced, I'd look off the dance floor and see every guy in the place watching her. I loved every single minute I was with her." The inevitable was happening. "I was falling in love with her." Amanda seemed to be falling, too. They might have a date planned for Thursday night, and by Tuesday Amanda was on the phone saying, "Let's get together." Then one night, after they had progressed from hugging to snuggling, Amanda suddenly said, "I don't want to hurt you." (Remember this: When anyone says, "I don't want to hurt you," bells should start ringing, lights should start flashing, hammers should start pounding you on the head. What the person really means is, "Are you in for it! You're going to taste blood before I'm through. with you!") But Craig didn't think he could be hurt. He had lost his fiance in a car accident several years before, and there was plenty of scar tissue protecting his heart. So they continued to get closer and closer and closer. And Amanda continued to get stronger and stronger and stronger. And then, like that, she pulled away. First, she got moody. Then she became distant. There were a few phone calls between them, but they weren't very pleasant. The last time they talked, Amanda told Craig that her divorce had become final. She also mentioned that she was seeing several other guys. For a while, Craig felt "used and discarded." Then he realized he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "If it hadn't been me, someone else would have helped her through her difficult time." And that guy's heart would have been broken. As those wise old Greeks said several thousand years ago, we learn wisdom through suffering. That certainly applies to Craig. He has learned never to date a woman who has been divorced less than a year, preferably two. "It's a rule I follow to this day." Have you ever gotten revenge on an old flame? Send your tale, your name, address and phone numbers to Lavin & Kavesh, Tales from the Front, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 606JJ. The ABCs of being a transition person By Laura Kavesh and Cheryl Lavin T he one role you don't ever want to have is that of the Transition Person. Here's how it works: A is in love with B. B dumps A. A is devastated. A can't eat. A can't sleep. A thinks life is over. Then C comes along. C and A start to date. Life starts to look up for A. A regains some of the old self-confidence. A starts feeling pretty good. A realizes life has possibilities. Lots of possibilities. A meets D, E and F. A drops C. C is left out in the cold. C is the Transition Person. Craig met Amanda in a bar. She was "perhaps the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen." They went out once. They went out twice. On their second date, Amanda told Craig she was going through a divorce. They spent five hours discussing loss, pain and heartache. Mostly Amanda talked and Craig listened. "I didn't preach or offer advice on how she 'should' feel or what she 'should' do," he says. At the end of the evening, she gave him a hug. That date pretty much set the pattern for their relationship. They would have long, serious talks about loss and pain, Amanda would get weepy and then they'd hug. And that was it. One night as they were talking, Amanda asked Craig to hold her. She was a little embarrassed to ask, but Craig told her he had wanted to hold her for a long time, but he was trying to be sensitive. He didn't want her to think he was coming on to her. But the truth was, he wanted to. As he learned her life's story, he became attracted to her "sensitive, emotional and somewhat vulnerable nature." He' found her "incredibly intelligent, witty and bright." After so many years, solitude is difficult Continued from 1st Tempo page Jewel salad bar. He didn't have a clue to the logistics of looking for an apartment. In the world in which he grew up, wives searched for homes and later decorated and cleaned them while their husbands were at work. In his resentment and uncertainty, he knew only one thing: He wanted to stay in the suburbs. To the city dweller, living alone in the suburbs may seem like banishment. Rather than walking a It b\ocks from home to shops, restaurants and bustling sidewalks, the suburbanite in search of society has to drive to a shopping center. Klinsky, however, like many of the divorced men he knows, wanted to stay in the suburbs for the simple reason that his kids and his friends are there. He saw the city as too busy and a little dangerous. He worried that he would be trapped in frenetic hops from singles bars to health clubs and back. So he would sit at the kitchen table or in front of the TV, trying to decipher the gibberish of the suburban classifieds: "1 bdrm, Indry, A/C, crpt, apple, nr shpg, ht incl." He would rip out a page of ads and take it with him when he went to play racquetball with his buddies, grateful that enough of them had been through the process that they could warn him which singles habitats to avoid. Sometimes, scanning the ads as he sipped instant coffee, it occurred to him that something had gone dreadfully, inexplicably wrong. Often he still thinks it has. "I resent 25 years of working toward a day when you can enjoy your mate and your family life and light up your pipe and kick off your shoes on the porch-I don't smoke a pipe and I didn't have a porch, but you know what I' mean-I mean enjoy what you've worked for. And instead, you lace up your Reeboks and go out to have a drink." Evergreen Glen in Prospect Heights is the kind of apartment complex that abounds in suburbs across the country, one of those huge places with a sylvan name and acres of asphalt. There is no glen, and the evergreens are a few scraggly 3-foot pines. But Evergreen Glen was KJinsky's first home alone, and he liked it, once he got used to the throbbing of stereos through the walls, the ceiling and the floor. He enjoyed meeting the young single people who filled the place, and the older woman whose German cooking perfumed his hall. He was luckier than other divorced men he knows, who had to refurnish their lives from Wickes and Swingles. He had inherited a sectional couch, a table and six chairs, kitchen utensils and 12 wine glasses. He laughs about the glasses: "I can't imagine having 12 people over to dinner anymore." He stored his tools in two dressers. In front of the sofa he placed a table he had made from a printer's type box and whose niches his kids had filled with seashells from a family vacation. He pushed two single beds together to make a double. "It came out nice," he says. "I . was pr ud of it." With his apartment in order, he set about reconstructing his social life. He took off his wedding ring. He put on a pinkie ring. Gone were the school activities, the neighborhood projects, the weekly or twice-weekly visits with the family to temple. His new schedule was racquetball on Monday nights; Tuesday at Billy and Co., in Wheeling; Wednesday "who knows"; Thursday at home with a Big Mac, "Hill Street Blues" and the bills. Friday and Saturday were date nights, and on Sundays he joined the crowd at the Snuggery in Schaumburg. At the bars, he became part of a suburban recycling circuit traveled by the formerly married. The people he met thete have become his new community. His favorite times are spent with the Tuesday night regulars at Billy's. When the dinner customers have gone, he and a few friends who don't like the flashing lights and synthesized drum in the bar across the lobby push together several tables in the dining room. They often sit there in the low lights, amid the dark wood, the red booths and the gold chandeliers and talk until I or 2 in the morning. Of the many things to which he has been introduced since his divorce, this easy camaraderie among men and women is one he values most. Even so, he longs for the rewards and routines of family life. After two years alone, he moved into an apartment with a woman he got to know at Billy's. Her son still lived at home, and her parents were still alive. He saw a way to replant himself quickly in a family. It was a mistake bred of loneliness. He soon moved out and into another modern one-bedroom apartment. Mar Rue is in a Prospect Heights neighborhood made up almost solely of condos and apartments. Complex after complex stretches down a road shaved of trees. They have names such as Old Willow Falls, Lake Run, Bay Grove, names that do little more than recall what the land was before it was paved and built upon. The best recommendation he can muster for his apartment is, "It's clean." Its deficiencies do not matter much because he tries not to be there much. He fills his time to overflow, but still one truth remains: "When you're living alone, when all of it's over, you still go home alone," he says. "That's one of the biggies. You still go home alone, wash the clothes alone, eat some of your meals alone. And the thing that I think about probably the most is if you wake up ... " He pauses and looks apologetic. "I say it as a joke, but ... but what happens if you wake up dead one morning? Who's going to miss you?" He thinks about his friends at Billy's. If one of them weren't to show up for a week or 10 days, he'd notice. "But I wouldn't think they were dead in their apartment. I'd think they had something else to do." What would happen, he wonders, if he went home one night, packed his bags and hopped the next flight to Europe? How long would it take for his friends at Billy's to say, "Hey, what happened to Phil?" How long would it take his kids? ALL LITTLE KIDS SEEM TO NEED SOMETHING FOR SECURIT'<'.. Singles scene, military style T here are 874 military in- stallations in the continen- tal United States, accord- ing to American Demographics magazine. They range from three-person Cam- pion Air Force Base in Galena, Alaska, to the Norfolk Naval Air Station in Virginia, which em- ploys 48,000 people. These bases are primarily male bastions because, says American Demographics, 90 percent of ac- tive-duty military personnel are men ages 18 to 40. If, as some studies allege, there is a national shortage of bache- lors, the Norfolk-Virginia Beach- Newport News metropolitan area is aberrant. There, men outnum- ber women in every age category below 35, and in the prime mar- rying-age range-18 to 24 years old-there ate 135 men for every 100 women. So perhaps single women should consider moving close to a military base where 40 percent of enlisted men and 25 percent of officers are unmarried. News for you Overlooked problem Wife beating is a nightmare, but within that form of abuse there exists an even more disgusting phenomenon. A recent study at a prenatal clinic in the Houston area showed that 12 percent of the pregnant women using the service had been beaten. The March of Dimes says ob- stetricians and other providers of health care should pay attention to pregnant patients who repeat- edly miss appointments, offer vague medical complaints and show such visible injuries as bruises and black eyes. Vididiots redux In recent years the home video game industry has bounced about like a pinball. Sales skyrocketed from less than $100 million in 1978 to $3 billion a year in 1982 and 1983, according to statistics compiled by video gamemaker Nintendo of America Inc. From 1981 to 1982, sales of home video games increased an incredi- Tribune photo by Charles Cherney Debra Atkins, waitress at Billy's, takes Phil Klinsky's order: The Tuesday band of regular customers shares a "brotherhood of tribulation." It is close to 10 one Tuesday night when KJinsky arrives at Billy's wearing jeans, boots, a fringed blue suede jacket and a shirt open at the collar to reveal a gold chain and mezuza. The jacket was a present from a woman he met at Billy's. The chain was a present from his kids. "Sure, I dress different now," he says. "A little more flamboyant. I used to be a jeans-and-sports-shirt kind of person. Now I realize that the jeans have to be clean. You have to look in the mirror longer because other people are looking at you more." The music from "Fame" pulses from the bar, but the dining room is quiet. From across the room, two men wave. KJinsky joins them. These men belong to a brotherhood of tribulation. KJinsky explains that many of his friends have traveled the same route through life, from growing up in the city to rearing a family in the suburbs to finding themselves unexpectedly alone in midlife . "The hardest part for me is the loneliness," says one of the men, who wears aviator glasses and a designer sweatshirt. His grimace is a mix of amusement and self- disgust. "So I go jump my wife every night. That's really learning to live alone, isn't it?" "The hardest part for me," says the other, "is learning to take care of myself. I had never done laundry." "Yeah," says the first one, nodding. "My socks aren't white anymore. But I tell you" -his voice rises with pleasure- "I am very neat. And now I don't have to pick up after anybody anymore." His friend stirs his drink and shrugs in contradiction. "And I'm not neat, and now there's nobody to pick up after me." One of the men wanders off. The other takes to stroking the back of a friendly woman. KJinsky orders coffee. "I have found in my age category a lot of men have never taken time to develop side interests," KJinsky says. "They spend most of their lives making a living. When they end up alone, they don't know what to do with themselves. If they don't sit and watch television, \ they're lost." That's part of why they spend so much time in the bars. A waitress pours him a third cup of coffee and he mentions his kids. They are in their early to mid-20s. "One of the hardest things for me is holidays. Thanksgiving, Mom gets first shot. Christmas, Mom gets first shot. That changes everything." The year he was divorced he waited until the day before Thanksgiving to accept a friend's dinner invitation, hoping until the last minute that the kids would call. Last Christmas, when his kids suggested he meet them for a belated holiday dinner in a restaurant, he decided it was time to exercise parental prerogative. He filed his demands: They would buy a bucket of chicken. He would load the presents that had been sitting on his kitchen table for a month into his brown '77 Buick. He would drive to his daughter's apartment. They would sit together in a home, not a restaurant. They would talk to each other like a family, not acquaintances. They did. They had fun. KJinsky tries to talk to his kids at least once a week on the phone, but he feels awkward inviting them to his apartment. He can't imagine what he would say to them once they were there. Last summer, however, he offered his son a key. Whoever got home first earned the right to the king-size waterbed. The other would have to settle for the sofa. His son never took him up on the offer, but KJinsky knew it was appreciated. Gradually, he has reconciled himself to his new life. He even prefers parts of it to his married ways. He likes the fact that rather than staying home on Saturday nights with hot dogs and "Love Boat," he tries exotic restaurants. He feels more confident about reviving and making friendships. He says he has started appreciating the nights when he can come home, kick off his shoes, sit on the floor and eat a hamburger while watching TV. He is lonely sometimes but no lonelier, he says, than on those many nights during his marriage when he'd come home from work at 8 p.m. and find the kitchen table set for one. "One plate, one glass, one place setting," he says. " 'Did you e dear?' 'Yeah, I ate with the kids. I had to eat with the kids. Now I'm going to go finish my book.'" He just wishes that some of the things that give him pleasure now-old friends, new restaurants, nights out-s-he had taken advantage of when he was married. "I'm a guy who loves to be proud of a house," he says. "I miss my house." If suddenly his old house were given back to him, though, if his kids said they were going to move back in with him, if there were some magical way to resume his old life, he would have to think twice about the offer. If that meant he could never go to Billy's again, never talk to Pam the waitress, not try new business ventures as easily, it might not be worth it. "I've tasted other things," he says. "I like them both. I'd like to have the best of both worlds. I'd like to have a nice house that I'm proud of and also to be able to say on Tuesdays to all my friends at Billy's, 'Hey, Friday night, let's meet at my place.'" Phil KJinsky recently moved in with a woman he met at Billy's. Thursday: Katie Rodriguez- Hinman, 14, is the child of a modern marriage who must spend much of her time alone. DEARBORN Cinema Downtown WATER TOWER ChiC8g0 HYDE PARK Chicago NORTOWN ChiC8g0 BOLINGBROOK Bolingbrook EDENS Northbrook EVANSTON Evanston EVERGREEN Evargreen Park GRIFFITH PARK GriHith,lN GROVE Cinemas Downers Grove HARLEM·CERMAK North Riverside NORRIDGE Norridge OAKBROOK Oakbrook ORLANDSQ, Orland Pa ••k ble $2 billion. What spurred the boom initially was the game Pong in 1979. That year Atari joined the fray, and the race was on. In 1981 Mattei en- tered the market with $250 mil- lion in annual sales, and a year later Colecovision came aboard with $286 mi11iona year in sales. Then the market crashed like a gunned-down space ship, partly because of dumping and discount- ing. Sales dropped from $3 billion in 1983 to $2 billion in 1984. By late 1985 the bottom had fallen out; annual sales of home video games ran around $100 mi11ion. Now the industry has started to come back gradually. Sales indus- trywide rose to $430 mi11ionin 1986 and are expected to reach $825 mi11ionin 1987. New, more sophisticated games that attract a wider audience helped fuel the comeback Nin- tendo says that in the United States 30 percent of home video game users are more than 24. Body beautiful Barbie's measurements are 5lf4- 3-4314. Jim Spencer Horoscope: June 10 By Joyce Jillson Birthday: More options open up this year. Get in step with the public; learn, grow and expand. Keep down roots, too. Wait for trends to develop this month. July finds you smiling, laughing and loving. New romantic prospects develop. Tend to practical matters in August. Structure your activities more. Travel, communicate, study in Septem- ber. A thrilling change is in store. Oc- tober is more settled. Positive business developments come in December. Feb- ruary is strong for career. New trends form in April. Aries (March 21-Aprll 19): Build a better relationship with relatives. Your salesmanship will improve over the next three weeks. Increase your reading; improve your mind. Taurus (April 20-May 20): You're happy about a positive financial change. Other people are impressed with your impeccable taste in clothes and art objects. You'll be sensitive to emotional rejection. Gemini (May 21-June 21): Between now and July 5, Venus will be improv- ing your finances and relationships. Work for the love of it, not for material gain. Your personality attracts others. Cancer (June 22-July 22): eep two steps ahead of everyone else. Once again you feel optimistic about the fu- ture. Payoff old debts, and avoid going on an emotional binge. You receive good news in the evening. Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Your positive approach is the key to your success. The next few weeks will bring you a batch of new friends. Don't judge the future by your past. You're breaking new ground. Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Take on a larger view of life. Details are not im- portant. Plan a trip if you want to. Let life support you; have faith in yourself and your talents. Libra (Sept. 23-0ct. 23): After a peri- od of emotional questioning you are full of optimism again. A new relationship adds excitement to your life. Be open to meeting people from all walks of life. Scorpio (Oct. 24-Nov. 21): You'll be able to assess the new financial trends. The import/export business may attract you or perhaps the travel industry. Take a broad overall view of life. Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): You're in the center of the action. Some of your dreams will be fulfilled today. If you want quick results, start something new. You get the recognition you de- serve. Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): You've been keeping up a steady pace. Now you get to vary your routine. If you're leaving on a trip it's bound to be suc- cessful. Take care of behind-the- scenes matters. Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Things come to a head in your social life. Some people will leave it, and some will stay. You're clearer about your pro- fessional goals. Don't overexpand. Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): You are enthusiastic about the success in your career. Your security comes from being appreciated in your job. Build every- thing on the strength of your domestic life. RANDHURST Mt. Prospect RIDGE Cinemas Arlington ttts RIVER OAKS Calumet City SOUTHLAKEMell Merrillvilla, IN STRATFORD SQ. Bloomingdale WESTERN Heiahts Chicago Heights WOODFIELD Schaumburg EIDID BEL·AIR Cicero CASCADE West Chicago CICERO Monee DOUBLE Chicago HALSTED Twin Riverdale 1·80 Tinley Park TWIN Wheeling

After so many years, solitude is difficult · loss and pain, Amanda would get weepy and then they'd hug. And that was it. One night as they were talking, Amanda asked Craig to hold

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Page 1: After so many years, solitude is difficult · loss and pain, Amanda would get weepy and then they'd hug. And that was it. One night as they were talking, Amanda asked Craig to hold

Tempo 2 Section 5 Chicago Tribune, Wednesday, June 10, 1987

Talesfromthe front

And her looks rolled his socks."She had the unique ability to look like a cool,

striking, raven-haired model one minute and then witha simple smile to become a warm, open girl-next-door.When we danced, I'd look off the dance floor and seeevery guy in the place watching her. I loved everysingle minute I was with her."

The inevitable was happening."I was falling in love with her."Amanda seemed to be falling, too.They might have a date planned for Thursday night,

and by Tuesday Amanda was on the phone saying,"Let's get together."

Then one night, after they had progressed fromhugging to snuggling, Amanda suddenly said, "I don'twant to hurt you."

(Remember this: When anyone says, "I don't wantto hurt you," bells should start ringing, lights shouldstart flashing, hammers should start pounding you onthe head. What the person really means is, "Are youin for it! You're going to taste blood before I'mthrough. with you!")

But Craig didn't think he could be hurt. He had losthis fiance in a car accident several years before, andthere was plenty of scar tissue protecting his heart. Sothey continued to get closer and closer and closer.And Amanda continued to get stronger and strongerand stronger.

And then, like that, she pulled away. First, she gotmoody. Then she became distant. There were a fewphone calls between them, but they weren't verypleasant. The last time they talked, Amanda told Craigthat her divorce had become final. She also mentionedthat she was seeing several other guys.

For a while, Craig felt "used and discarded." Thenhe realized he just happened to be in the wrong placeat the wrong time.

"If it hadn't been me, someone else would havehelped her through her difficult time." And that guy'sheart would have been broken.

As those wise old Greeks said several thousand yearsago, we learn wisdom through suffering. That certainlyapplies to Craig. He has learned never to date awoman who has been divorced less than a year,preferably two.

"It's a rule I follow to this day."Have you ever gotten revenge on an old flame? Send

your tale, your name, address and phone numbers toLavin & Kavesh, Tales from the Front, 435 N.Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 606JJ.

The ABCs of beinga transition personBy Laura Kavesh and Cheryl Lavin

The one role you don't ever want to have is thatof the Transition Person.

Here's how it works: A is in love with B. Bdumps A. A is devastated. A can't eat. A can't

sleep. A thinks life is over. Then C comes along. Cand A start to date. Life starts to look up for A. Aregains some of the old self-confidence. A starts feelingpretty good. A realizes life has possibilities. Lots ofpossibilities. A meets D, E and F. A drops C. C is leftout in the cold. C is the Transition Person.

Craig met Amanda in a bar. She was "perhaps themost beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

They went out once. They went out twice. On theirsecond date, Amanda told Craig she was goingthrough a divorce. They spent five hours discussingloss, pain and heartache. Mostly Amanda talked andCraig listened.

"I didn't preach or offer advice on how she 'should'feel or what she 'should' do," he says.

At the end of the evening, she gave him a hug.That date pretty much set the pattern for their

relationship. They would have long, serious talks aboutloss and pain, Amanda would get weepy and thenthey'd hug.

And that was it.One night as they were talking, Amanda asked Craig

to hold her. She was a little embarrassed to ask, butCraig told her he had wanted to hold her for a longtime, but he was trying to be sensitive. He didn't wanther to think he was coming on to her.

But the truth was, he wanted to. As he learned herlife's story, he became attracted to her "sensitive,emotional and somewhat vulnerable nature." He'found her "incredibly intelligent, witty and bright."

After so many years,solitude is difficult

Continued from 1st Tempo pageJewel salad bar.

He didn't have a clue to thelogistics of looking for anapartment. In the world in whichhe grew up, wives searched forhomes and later decorated andcleaned them while their husbandswere at work.

In his resentment anduncertainty, he knew only onething: He wanted to stay in thesuburbs.

To the city dweller, living alonein the suburbs may seem likebanishment. Rather than walking aIt b\ocks from home to shops,restaurants and bustling sidewalks,the suburbanite in search of societyhas to drive to a shopping center.

Klinsky, however, like many ofthe divorced men he knows,wanted to stay in the suburbs forthe simple reason that his kids andhis friends are there. He saw thecity as too busy and a littledangerous. He worried that hewould be trapped in frenetic hopsfrom singles bars to health clubsand back.

So he would sit at the kitchentable or in front of the TV, tryingto decipher the gibberish of thesuburban classifieds: "1 bdrm,Indry, A/C, crpt, apple, nr shpg, htincl." He would rip out a page ofads and take it with him when hewent to play racquetball with hisbuddies, grateful that enough ofthem had been through the processthat they could warn him whichsingles habitats to avoid.

Sometimes, scanning the ads ashe sipped instant coffee, itoccurred to him that somethinghad gone dreadfully, inexplicablywrong. Often he still thinks it has.

"I resent 25 years of workingtoward a day when you can enjoyyour mate and your family life andlight up your pipe and kick offyour shoes on the porch-I don'tsmoke a pipe and I didn't have aporch, but you know what I'mean-I mean enjoy what you'veworked for. And instead, you laceup your Reeboks and go out tohave a drink." •Evergreen Glen in ProspectHeights is the kind of apartmentcomplex that abounds in suburbsacross the country, one of thosehuge places with a sylvan nameand acres of asphalt. There is noglen, and the evergreens are a fewscraggly 3-foot pines.

But Evergreen Glen wasKJinsky's first home alone, and heliked it, once he got used to thethrobbing of stereos through thewalls, the ceiling and the floor. Heenjoyed meeting the young singlepeople who filled the place, and theolder woman whose Germancooking perfumed his hall.

He was luckier than otherdivorced men he knows, who hadto refurnish their lives from Wickesand Swingles. He had inherited asectional couch, a table and sixchairs, kitchen utensils and 12 wineglasses.

He laughs about the glasses: "Ican't imagine having 12 peopleover to dinner anymore."

He stored his tools in twodressers. In front of the sofa heplaced a table he had made from aprinter's type box and whoseniches his kids had filled withseashells from a family vacation.He pushed two single beds togetherto make a double.

"It came out nice," he says. "I. was pr ud of it."

With his apartment in order, heset about reconstructing his sociallife.

He took off his wedding ring. Heput on a pinkie ring.

Gone were the school activities,the neighborhood projects, theweekly or twice-weekly visits withthe family to temple. His newschedule was racquetball onMonday nights; Tuesday at Billyand Co., in Wheeling; Wednesday"who knows"; Thursday at homewith a Big Mac, "Hill Street Blues"and the bills. Friday and Saturdaywere date nights, and on Sundayshe joined the crowd at theSnuggery in Schaumburg.

At the bars, he became part of asuburban recycling circuit traveledby the formerly married. Thepeople he met thete have becomehis new community.

His favorite times are spent withthe Tuesday night regulars atBilly's. When the dinner customershave gone, he and a few friendswho don't like the flashing lightsand synthesized drum in the baracross the lobby push togetherseveral tables in the dining room.They often sit there in the lowlights, amid the dark wood, the redbooths and the gold chandeliersand talk until I or 2 in themorning. Of the many things towhich he has been introduced sincehis divorce, this easy camaraderieamong men and women is one hevalues most.

Even so, he longs for the rewardsand routines of family life. Aftertwo years alone, he moved into anapartment with a woman he got toknow at Billy's. Her son still livedat home, and her parents were stillalive. He saw a way to replanthimself quickly in a family.

It was a mistake bred ofloneliness. He soon moved out andinto another modern one-bedroomapartment.

Mar Rue is in a Prospect Heightsneighborhood made up almostsolely of condos and apartments.Complex after complex stretchesdown a road shaved of trees. Theyhave names such as Old WillowFalls, Lake Run, Bay Grove, namesthat do little more than recall whatthe land was before it was pavedand built upon.

The best recommendation he canmuster for his apartment is, "It'sclean."

Its deficiencies do not mattermuch because he tries not to bethere much. He fills his time tooverflow, but still one truthremains:

"When you're living alone, whenall of it's over, you still go homealone," he says. "That's one of thebiggies. You still go home alone,wash the clothes alone, eat some ofyour meals alone. And the thingthat I think about probably themost is if you wake up ... "

He pauses and looks apologetic."I say it as a joke, but ... butwhat happens if you wake up deadone morning? Who's going to missyou?"

He thinks about his friends atBilly's. If one of them weren't toshow up for a week or 10 days,he'd notice. "But I wouldn't thinkthey were dead in their apartment.I'd think they had something elseto do."

What would happen, he wonders,if he went home one night, packedhis bags and hopped the next flightto Europe? How long would it takefor his friends at Billy's to say,"Hey, what happened to Phil?"How long would it take his kids?

ALL LITTLE KIDSSEEM TO NEED SOMETHING

FOR SECURIT'<' ..

Singles scene,military style

There are 874 military in-stallations in the continen-tal United States, accord-ing to American

Demographics magazine. Theyrange from three-person Cam-pion Air Force Base in Galena,Alaska, to the Norfolk Naval AirStation in Virginia, which em-ploys 48,000 people.

These bases are primarily malebastions because, says AmericanDemographics, 90 percent of ac-tive-duty military personnel aremen ages 18 to 40.

If, as some studies allege, thereis a national shortage of bache-lors, the Norfolk-Virginia Beach-Newport News metropolitan areais aberrant. There, men outnum-ber women in every age categorybelow 35, and in the prime mar-rying-age range-18 to 24 yearsold-there ate 135 men for every100 women.

So perhaps single womenshould consider moving close toa military base where 40 percentof enlisted men and 25 percentof officers are unmarried.

News for you

Overlooked problemWife beating is a nightmare, but

within that form of abuse thereexists an even more disgustingphenomenon. A recent study at aprenatal clinic in the Houstonarea showed that 12 percent ofthe pregnant women using theservice had been beaten.

The March of Dimes says ob-stetricians and other providers ofhealth care should pay attentionto pregnant patients who repeat-edly miss appointments, offervague medical complaints andshow such visible injuries asbruises and black eyes.

Vididiots reduxIn recent years the home video

game industry has bounced aboutlike a pinball. Sales skyrocketedfrom less than $100 million in1978 to $3 billion a year in 1982and 1983, according to statisticscompiled by video gamemakerNintendo of America Inc. From1981 to 1982, sales of homevideo games increased an incredi-

Tribune photo by Charles Cherney

Debra Atkins, waitress at Billy's, takes Phil Klinsky's order: The Tuesday band of regular customersshares a "brotherhood of tribulation."

It is close to 10 one Tuesdaynight when KJinsky arrives atBilly's wearing jeans, boots, afringed blue suede jacket and ashirt open at the collar to reveal agold chain and mezuza. The jacketwas a present from a woman hemet at Billy's. The chain was apresent from his kids.

"Sure, I dress different now," hesays. "A little more flamboyant. Iused to be a jeans-and-sports-shirtkind of person. Now I realize thatthe jeans have to be clean. Youhave to look in the mirror longerbecause other people are looking atyou more."

The music from "Fame" pulsesfrom the bar, but the dining roomis quiet. From across the room,two men wave. KJinsky joins them.

These men belong to abrotherhood of tribulation. KJinskyexplains that many of his friendshave traveled the same routethrough life, from growing up inthe city to rearing a family in thesuburbs to finding themselvesunexpectedly alone in midlife .

"The hardest part for me is theloneliness," says one of the men,who wears aviator glasses and adesigner sweatshirt. His grimace isa mix of amusement and self-disgust. "So I go jump my wifeevery night. That's really learningto live alone, isn't it?"

"The hardest part for me," saysthe other, "is learning to take careof myself. I had never donelaundry."

"Yeah," says the first one,nodding. "My socks aren't whiteanymore. But I tell you" -hisvoice rises with pleasure- "I amvery neat. And now I don't have topick up after anybody anymore."

His friend stirs his drink andshrugs in contradiction. "And I'mnot neat, and now there's nobodyto pick up after me."

One of the men wanders off. Theother takes to stroking the back ofa friendly woman. KJinsky orderscoffee.

"I have found in my age categorya lot of men have never taken timeto develop side interests," KJinskysays. "They spend most of theirlives making a living. When theyend up alone, they don't knowwhat to do with themselves. If theydon't sit and watch television, \they're lost." That's part of whythey spend so much time in thebars.

A waitress pours him a third cupof coffee and he mentions his kids.They are in their early to mid-20s.

"One of the hardest things forme is holidays. Thanksgiving, Momgets first shot. Christmas, Momgets first shot. That changeseverything."

The year he was divorced hewaited until the day beforeThanksgiving to accept a friend'sdinner invitation, hoping until thelast minute that the kids wouldcall.

Last Christmas, when his kidssuggested he meet them for abelated holiday dinner in arestaurant, he decided it was timeto exercise parental prerogative.

He filed his demands: Theywould buy a bucket of chicken. Hewould load the presents that hadbeen sitting on his kitchen table fora month into his brown '77 Buick.He would drive to his daughter'sapartment. They would sit togetherin a home, not a restaurant. Theywould talk to each other like afamily, not acquaintances. Theydid. They had fun.

KJinsky tries to talk to his kids atleast once a week on the phone,but he feels awkward inviting themto his apartment. He can't imaginewhat he would say to them oncethey were there.

Last summer, however, heoffered his son a key. Whoever gothome first earned the right to theking-size waterbed. The otherwould have to settle for the sofa.His son never took him up on theoffer, but KJinsky knew it wasappreciated.

Gradually, he has reconciledhimself to his new life. He evenprefers parts of it to his marriedways. He likes the fact that ratherthan staying home on Saturdaynights with hot dogs and "LoveBoat," he tries exotic restaurants.He feels more confident aboutreviving and making friendships.

He says he has startedappreciating the nights when hecan come home, kick off his shoes,sit on the floor and eat ahamburger while watching TV.

He is lonely sometimes but nolonelier, he says, than on thosemany nights during his marriagewhen he'd come home from workat 8 p.m. and find the kitchen tableset for one.

"One plate, one glass, one placesetting," he says. " 'Did you e •

dear?' 'Yeah, I ate with the kids. Ihad to eat with the kids. Now I'mgoing to go finish my book.' "

He just wishes that some of thethings that give him pleasurenow-old friends, new restaurants,nights out-s-he had takenadvantage of when he was married.

"I'm a guy who loves to beproud of a house," he says. "I missmy house."

If suddenly his old house weregiven back to him, though, if hiskids said they were going to moveback in with him, if there weresome magical way to resume hisold life, he would have to thinktwice about the offer.

If that meant he could never goto Billy's again, never talk to Pamthe waitress, not try new businessventures as easily, it might not beworth it.

"I've tasted other things," hesays. "I like them both. I'd like tohave the best of both worlds. I'dlike to have a nice house that I'mproud of and also to be able to sayon Tuesdays to all my friends atBilly's, 'Hey, Friday night, let'smeet at my place.' "

Phil KJinsky recently moved inwith a woman he met at Billy's.

Thursday: Katie Rodriguez-Hinman, 14, is the child of amodern marriage who must spendmuch of her time alone.

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ble $2 billion.What spurred the boom initially

was the game Pong in 1979. Thatyear Atari joined the fray, and therace was on. In 1981 Mattei en-tered the market with $250 mil-lion in annual sales, and a yearlater Colecovision came aboardwith $286 mi11iona year in sales.

Then the market crashed like agunned-down space ship, partlybecause of dumping and discount-ing. Sales dropped from $3 billionin 1983 to $2 billion in 1984. Bylate 1985 the bottom had fallenout; annual sales of home videogames ran around $100 mi11ion.

Now the industry has started tocome back gradually. Sales indus-trywide rose to $430 mi11ionin1986 and are expected to reach$825 mi11ionin 1987.

New, more sophisticated gamesthat attract a wider audiencehelped fuel the comeback Nin-tendo says that in the UnitedStates 30 percent of home videogame users are more than 24.

Body beautifulBarbie's measurements are 5lf4-

3-4314.Jim Spencer

Horoscope:June 10By Joyce Jillson

Birthday: More options open up thisyear. Get in step with the public; learn,grow and expand. Keep down roots,too. Wait for trends to develop thismonth. July finds you smiling, laughingand loving. New romantic prospectsdevelop. Tend to practical matters inAugust. Structure your activities more.Travel, communicate, study in Septem-ber. A thrilling change is in store. Oc-tober is more settled. Positive businessdevelopments come in December. Feb-ruary is strong for career. New trendsform in April.

Aries (March 21-Aprll 19): Build abetter relationship with relatives. Yoursalesmanship will improve over thenext three weeks. Increase yourreading; improve your mind.

Taurus (April 20-May 20): You'rehappy about a positive financialchange. Other people are impressedwith your impeccable taste in clothesand art objects. You'll be sensitive toemotional rejection.

Gemini (May 21-June 21): Betweennow and July 5, Venus will be improv-ing your finances and relationships.Work for the love of it, not for materialgain. Your personality attracts others.

Cancer (June 22-July 22): eep twosteps ahead of everyone else. Onceagain you feel optimistic about the fu-ture. Payoff old debts, and avoid goingon an emotional binge. You receivegood news in the evening.

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Your positiveapproach is the key to your success.The next few weeks will bring you abatch of new friends. Don't judge thefuture by your past. You're breakingnew ground.

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Take on alarger view of life. Details are not im-portant. Plan a trip if you want to. Letlife support you; have faith in yourselfand your talents.

Libra (Sept. 23-0ct. 23): After a peri-od of emotional questioning you are fullof optimism again. A new relationshipadds excitement to your life. Be opento meeting people from all walks of life.

Scorpio (Oct. 24-Nov. 21): You'll beable to assess the new financial trends.The import/export business may attractyou or perhaps the travel industry.Take a broad overall view of life.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): You'rein the center of the action. Some ofyour dreams will be fulfilled today. Ifyou want quick results, start somethingnew. You get the recognition you de-serve.

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): You'vebeen keeping up a steady pace. Nowyou get to vary your routine. If you'releaving on a trip it's bound to be suc-cessful. Take care of behind-the-scenes matters.

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Thingscome to a head in your social life.Some people will leave it, and somewill stay. You're clearer about your pro-fessional goals. Don't overexpand.

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): You areenthusiastic about the success in yourcareer. Your security comes from beingappreciated in your job. Build every-thing on the strength of your domesticlife.

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