“A long, long time ago, I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile”
(from American Pie, by Don McLean)
Did you sing those lines just now? I did.
I’m not sure which brain cell fired up this memory, but it’s a favorite. Though I can’t remember the exact time it happened, I do know it was Hog Days. I was walking down Second Street toward Tremont. Before I could turn north, I smelled the tantalizing scent of coffee.
At that time, coffee was my main drink. We would consume gallons of it, at home, at my mother-in-law’s, in restaurants. I followed my nose and found a new coffeehouse in what is now the Downtown Eatery and Bakery. The place was mostly empty and kind of dark. The sound of coffee beans being ground seemed to fill the whole building.
I found Dan (can’t remember his last name) behind the counter. He had the best smile, because it went all the way up to his eyes. We introduced ourselves and I tried not to act like a child and jump up and down. A coffeehouse! With tables and chairs and coffee and now I had a place to write.
Back then I would hunt for places to order coffee (and food, of course) so I could write The Great American Novel. I wanted to create worlds and people them with memorable characters. And make a lot of money so I could live in a mansion with pillars and stone lions.
I digress.
I visited the coffeehouse dozens of times, and after a while I asked Dan if he would consider knocking down a wall, putting up a stage, and having an open mic night. He thought about it, knocked down the wall, and shy Margi read poetry there. It was a blessed place for me and many, many others loved it, too.
One Thursday night, Dan and his sisters were to perform at a concert in Veterans Park. You can only imagine how many showed up to hear their favorite singer. I only had to walk across the street and settle in to enjoy myself. A few minutes in, the amp blew. Our youngest was a musician and I knew we had amps at home. I offered to get one, but someone else was already on the job.
Dan didn’t wait, though. He walked out into the middle of the crowd, on a breezy summer evening, sat down on his stool with his acoustic guitar, and began playing American Pie. He asked us to join him, and as I write this, the tears are on the way.
The ages of folks in the audience ran the gamut. Young, middle aged, older, we knew the words. It seemed like all other noise stopped. No traffic, no chatter, just a park full of people blending their voices as the breeze carried the song up and away. That is my only memory of that night, and I will treasure it always.
I’ll leave you with this:
“Oh, and there we were, all in one place
A generation lost in space”
Yeah, I sang it too.
