No bowling yesterday,due to the wet greens. Puttered around theMH in the morning then drove to Mesa, went to Camping World then a quick visit with the Todd's. heavy shower half way home. It rained and blew through the night so bowling is iffy today. Had a phone call from an old school friend from Port Hardy ( late 1940's and 1950/51), she sent along a couple of her poems, I'll ask her if I can put them on here. Here's another short story.

 

5. The Piano Player:

 

When I was 16 there was a cafe that we kids hung out in and about.  Of course in those days hanging out meant a bottle of coke that lasted for 1 to 2 hours, conversation, listening to the juke box, flirting and all the other things that teenager’s do.  One night around 8 o'clock half a dozen of us were doing just that and getting ready to go home.  It was a rainy night so we were kind of reluctant to head out.  The door to the restaurant opened and this rather tall kind of seedy man, perhaps in his 40's came in and ordered a cup of coffee.  He sat and nursed his coffee and without being obvious listened to our conversation and I noticed from time to time he would chuckle or nod his head depending on what we were saying at the moment.   After awhile he stood up and approached our booth and asked if we would mind if he played the piano.  There was an old beat up piano in the place that I don't ever remember anyone playing.  It was along time ago, but I doubt if we said yes or no, I do remember that he looked rather sad or perhaps forlorn?  He sat down at the piano and as he prepared to play you could not help but notice his fingers. Without exception they were all bent back from the second joint, not just slightly but so much so that they appeared broken or dislocated.  Then he started to play!  He wasn't just good he was great, yes my ear is and was untrained but his music was beautiful!  He played modern tunes of our era, he played oldies and he played classical.  His concert went on for about two hours until the proprietor closed the place down and kicked us all out.  He left with us out into the rain and the last any of us saw him was kind of shuffling off into the night.  None of us ever saw him again nor did anyone we talked to know anything about him.  Perhaps some derelict? Who knows?   For us he came from nowhere and he disappeared into nowhere, but after 57 years I sometimes think of him and the music and I can't help but think he is somewhere.