"He will be back."(Kevin Hughes) As the Stage Crew hustled to get the detritus off the stage (the last Dance group used a ton of confetti and more than a dollop of glitter in their routine) the well known Host sighed in a stage whisper.

“Oh, God. I am so glad we have only one more Act. I am going to have to find a Pub.”

Two women laughed. The bald headed guy at the end pretended he didn’t hear the comment. He felt the same way, but was too kind to ever say it out loud.

Once again the stage was clear. A thumbs up from the Crew Chief let the Host know it was time to go. He gave a thumbs up in return.

Out walked an old man. A really old man. He wasn’t quite carrying his guitar, but sort of dragging it along in the air. He had green corduroy pants on, a belt, and a white collared shirt.

One of the Women whispered just loud enough for the mic to pick it up:

“Well, we know he doesn’t shop upscale.”

A titter ran among the Judges, and quite a few of the Audience members too.

The old man walked with short, but firm, strides to the X mark he was told to stand on. When he turned to face the Judges and Audience, he had a soft smile and warm alive kind eyes. The Audience at least, warmed to the old man. A few leaned over to a nearby seat mate and whispered:

“I bet my Nan would love this guy.”

Many a nod followed that comment by those nearby. There was just something about him that screamed kind, loving, and caring. Even the hardened cynical Judges gave a light acknowledgment of that aura. Because they changed their opening greeting a bit.

“Why the smile?”

The Old man laughed. It was a laugh filled with almost eighty years of the silliness of Life. And the joy of a new experience.

Even the Judges chuckled at the honesty of that laugh.

“Well, my Kathy always told me I couldn’t sing, or play a lick on a guitar. And (motioning to the whole Theater in an arc with his free hand) Yet, here I am …standing in front of you four good people, and thousands of lovely strangers.“

The Host smiled and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything, but he had a knack for knowing when real talent was on the stage. And his knack was telling him to: “wait and see.” It was obvious the old man had already established rapport with both the Audience and the other three judges. The pencil slid into the corner or his mouth without conscious thought.

The blonde Judge, hardened by a decade of watching dreams be crushed…softened a bit. She didn’t want this old man to be embarrassed. In fact, she wanted to give him a hug and tell him to go home before he makes a fool of himself. She shrugged those thoughts off and pulled the question from her intuition.

“Is your Kathy here tonight?”

The old man’s eyes dimmed a little. His shoulder sagged as if the guitar had suddenly become water logged and heavy. The Audience felt it and leaned in to hear his reply.

The old man looked up. The smile he gave melted every woman’s heart…and most of the men too. That smile wasn’t for them. It was for her.

“Only in Spirit. She passed away a bit over two years ago. She’s watching though.” And he looked up and winked.

Now everyone was silent. They knew they were in the presence of someone who had truly loved. And lost. Many eyes grew shiny and wet among the Audience. The Bald judge took his glasses off to wipe a tear that had formed completely unbidden.

“Can you tell us a little bit about her?”

The old man trembled.

“You know how on some of those old Tombstones it just says:

“Beloved Wife and Mother.”

(Heads nodded at the Judges table, and throughout the Audience)

“Well, she was all that.”

You could have heard a pin drop in that massive hall.

The silence was warm. Safe. People lost in thought at the power of those four words- words spoken with almost a century of love behind them.

The Host broke the spell:

“She said you couldn’t sing, or play the guitar, so …is that true?”

Every head in the Theater turned to stare at the Host. The two semi-celebrities standing off stage left glared at their boss. And both the women sitting next to him shot a glare that would have singed the fur off a charging bear. Their Maternalistic Instincts in over drive. “How dare he belittle this kind old man.”

The old man merely laughed out loud. Breaking the tension and the ire directed at the Host.

“Well it was true…when she was..a…a…alive.”

His voice broke a little at the end. But the old man recovered quickly. His eyes had darted to the above and beyond. Whatever he saw in that Quick Look reassured him.

The whole room was now enthralled. Something was happening and they were either witnesses or participants. Nobody knew yet which it was. Or both.

“What do you mean?”

The question, once again, came from the Host. But he knew from his experience over three decades that he was on the trail of something. He had a nose for things like this…and the scent was growing by the second.

The old man scratched his bald head, closed his eyes and let out the smallest cutest sigh anyone had ever heard. It made soft smiles leap to lips everywhere.

“Well, you see, I have always had the emotion to sing…I think. I mean I know what Happy is. Or Sad. And all the things people who live and love feel. But, well, I couldn’t really sing. I have two notes…loud…and soft.”

Everyone laughed. Not at the old man, but with him.

And my hands are so small (he held them up to show the audience) that the guitar was too big for them. I was premature …and well you know that hands are the last to develop. So I kinda have trouble with fine motor control. “

The old man was interrupted by the bald judge (who’s glasses were now firmly back on his head):

“How premature were you?”

The old man laughed again.

“Well, I was four months early. (Audience gasps) Kathy says I was just in a hurry to meet her.”

The room melted as one heart.

The Host let that comment simmer in the hearts and minds of everyone. Then he spoke up:

“So how did you manage to learn the guitar then?”

The old man held up his guitar. It was full size, but when you looked closely, you could see the neck was truly thin, so his small hands could reach around it. And the strings were strung just a tiny bit closer to each other.

“Kathy had a friend who makes guitars. When she got …sick. (Deep breath) She had him take a look at my hands, then design a guitar I could actually try and play. He never even charged me for it. He said:

“Hey, I owe Kathy a lot more than a guitar.”

This time, people had to reach for tissues or the corner of a shirt or blouse. Dabs and wipes were common.

The old man had drifted off. Probably to the moment he was handed the guitar. The Audience waited for his memory to release him.

When it was clear he was back in the present moment- the dark haired Judge waived a gentle good luck gesture and said:

“Okay, then. Let’s hear what you have.”

The old man nodded.

He strummed the strings. And then he sang. A song everyone knew: “Over the Rainbow.” But nobody had ever heard it like that. It broke hearts. Sadness, hope, love, forgiveness flowed effortlessly from both the old man’s voice, and the powerful fingering of the strings.

Sobs burst from people unable to control the emotions pouring out…and in, from the old man’s remarkable tone. The Host, known only to have cried a few times and for just a short time, was unabashedly lost in the performance. Tears were racing down his cheeks to splash unnoticed on the table below.

The two women Judges and the bald Judge at the end, were weeping with wide eyes. All their attention, and probably their souls as well, wrapped up in the old man’s singing.

“…why…oh…why…can’t I?”

The last few words of the song settled over the Theater. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Quiet crying, gentle sobs, and sniffles echoed timidly through the silence.

For more than a minute, that moment was shared by everyone. Too stunned to do more than try to process the experience, everyone just stared.

A minute later the old man stood up and bowed.

He spoke into the mic:

“Thank you.”

He looked up again. Some lucky guy in the Audience chose that moment to take the old man’s picture. It won him a Pulitzer Prize. The Old man was smiling up at his Kathy…from the look on his face, she must have been smiling back.

He bowed again, and turned to walk off stage. The entire room rose as one. Nobody clapped. Nobody cheered. Everyone loved. It was a comfortable quiet exit. Respect. Awe. Gratefulness filled the spaces between breaths.

As he exited the wings of the Theater, wet eyed Technicians reached out to just touch him lightly. Thank you for everything in every slight touch, or glance. One Technician said it must have been similar to folks touching the robe of a Holy Man. For that moment was filled with Grace.

He walked out into the night.

It took several moments for the Theater, Audience, and Judges to sit back down in wonder.

“We didn’t even vote.” Whispered one Judge.

“We don’t have to.” Said the Host.

“But he’s gone!”

The Host looked at the blonde Judge with complete assurance:

“He will be back."

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