Jazz Christmas   Reply to topic

Hello All,
Things a little different this year aren't they? Well same here with ole Jahoo. I wanted to do a new Christmas time story but got all out of kilter lately so found this one from a little while ago. I sort of liked it and thought maybe, let's read it once more by that crackling fire, sipping hot chocolate while we wait for that jolly ole man in the red and white furry suit.

Jazz Christmas

He walks in the fading sunlight searching for a place to be, not quite sure where that is. He just knows he needs to be someplace else besides his cold room tonight. Too many days on the road, too many people to see, too many lonely nights. Yes, he needs to be someplace but where?

Snow is falling now, getting heavy as the streetlights come on. Hushed tones fill the street, people bustling along, cars moving slowly to the winking lights, always controlling the flow of traffic. And yet, with people around there is loneliness tonight. He knows no one here in this city, no one to talk to, to spend this night with, and it is Christmas Eve.

Up ahead is a faded neon light, slowing buzzing, willing itself to flash on and off. Each time it comes on, it is with labored energy. Maybe, yes maybe this will be the place. Cocktails, Jazz.

Opening the door, it is like he has been transported back to another era, another time. A haze of smoke fills the room, he strains to see in the low light of the establishment. Over in one corner is a bar, and in the back corner is a small stage, a trio are playing. Yes, he has found that place to hide from the world.

Brushing off the snow that has covered his long wool overcoat, he stomps the last of the slush from his shoes and picks out a place to sit. Over along the wall across from the stage and in the back is just the right table for tonight. He can see all who come and go while being able to keep an eye on the room. Yes, tonight he will drink, listen and watch the people come and go.

The waitress is about 20 years past her prime, but he could tell she has had some stories to tell. She smiles a little, just enough to try and garner interest from this stranger, but really, not caring if he is or not. He orders his Gin and Tonic and sits back. The music is classic 60s jazz, dark and dusty. Wire brushes on the drums, strumming on the bass, and the tinkling on the piano. Yes, this is the place, another time, place to lose my loneliness.

Now he has a chance to look around, not as many here as he thought there were. Guess his eyes are now getting adjusted to the low light, and he can truly see it.

He sees it in the other patron’s eyes, their looks, their stares. And he could feel it. The loneliness. His loneliness, theirs. He watches as they slowly look one to another and back down to their drinks, hiding, hiding their eyes so no one else in the room can see it. He is finding himself doing it too. Not wanting to admit, to himself and surely not to the others in this room. The shame of not being with someone tonight. Celebrating with friends gathered around the hearth, toasting this night and the coming day.

He looks around, catches an eye, and quickly looks down again at his drink. Time has seemed to slow down to a crawl. He wished the night were over. And yet the music goes on, endlessly sounding the same and he senses he has heard this song before but where? He prides himself on his music knowledge, but it is somewhere out there, just beyond the reaches of his mind. The tune, the beat, somewhere it reminded him of another time. But what could it be?

There are notes of sadness, notes of happiness but what was it?

Then it happened, it finally came through the fog, what those notes were, it was music from a Charlie Brown Christmas. And like a whirlwind, a winter blizzard, he was taken back in time even further back to carefree days spent wishing for snow, sledding, ice skating on the pond just like in that silly TV special. Oh, how he waited each year to see that special, because it signaled the time was near, the time for a visit from Santa.

Those frosty windowpanes where he’d etch his name, decorations filling the front room, music, and cookies. But most of all it meant warmth and love.

He could barely contain it, keep the loneliness out, he was fighting it tremendously, but he was fighting a losing battle. As he looked around, he saw it to. The effect the music was having on all the others in that smoky old bar. They were smiling, inwardly at first, then as if realizing you cannot hold the sea back with a grain of sand, they almost in unison allowed the waves of happiness flow over them.

They got up, almost as one and walked to the piano just in time to sing the last song of the special, that silly special that gave people hope, Hark the Harold Angels Sing.

He looked around, everyone had smiles, and tears of joy, for they knew, no matter what, the joys of music can transport them, transform them and for once, join lonely people together and become family, tied together with the bond on notes.

And on this night, in a bar across town, friends have gathered to await that magical time. The arrival of a true gift which gives us hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Merry Christmas Charlie Brown!!!!!!!