In 1963, when the Mona Lisa was on loan to the Metropolitan Art Museum, my South Jersey high school took a field trip to NewYork to see the holy relic. As our school bus moved through the streets of Manhattan, which almost none of us had ever seen before, we were amazed at the sight of young people a little older than ourselves, with long hair, wearing denim (not allowed in our school,) carrying portfolios - art students! - and then, on a street corner, this fantastic figure in the robe, the horned helmet, with the spear. We had no idea who or what this could be. He must have heard the reaction from inside the bus, because as we crawled by in the traffic, he suddenly bounced son his bent knees, and pointed to the sky with his free hand. He was blind (which we didn’t know, ) but he somehow sensed and communicated with us. It was only years later that I realized who he was, but Moondog told me as clearly as could be that I was not in Kansas anymore, and New York was where everything was going to happen. (The Mona Lisa was a complete drag.