My Last Lunch with Tom

Dear Friends,

Tom was at the lunch counter as I walked in. I was glad to see him and sat next to him even though he was finished eating. He looked good. After a little silence, we began to talk.

Tom is a professional musician although he hasn’t performed in a while. We swapped stories of famous musicians we have met over the years. We agreed that most musicians are nice people who see the world a little differently… Yes, there are divas in the business, but they are exceptions to the rule. Most musicians don't make a dime but there are advantages. When Tom went to boot camp during the big war, he soon learned that he wasn’t much with a gun, but singing in the base choir earned him special privileges. Tom built guitars and violins for the last ten years. We decided that there is no perfect instrument and when you find that special one, you’d better hold on to it. And we talked grandchildren; his of course! The “music gene” has found a place in each of them and he smiled as he shared stories.

My first vehicle was a John Deere “B” with a hand clutch and a fly wheel – at 11 years old! Tom beat me. His grandpa put blocks on the old tractor so he could drive it at 8 years old, and used hand brakes as well! Tom related how he and a cousin used a modified Model A to pick up corn stalks on their New Jersey farm; 14 hours and no one complained! Everyone in the family contributed with gratitude for food on the table. His dad shot a deer one winter from the kitchen window, and left it in the snow bank because they didn’t have a freezer. The family ate well.

Tom’s grateful for his wife. They performed together for years, she as the main vocalist, and he as the guitarist (and banjoist, and violinist, and you name ist…). She understands him. She has run the restaurant for the last 20 years and recently has tended to Tom.

Tom finished a second round of chemotherapy a few weeks back and he is just starting to get out. He won’t have another round. He can’t perform and he hasn’t produced a violin in over a year. “I miss those days,” he said. I held on to my emotions and said, “I’ll sing with you one day in the celestial choir.” He nodded.

As I paid my bill, the waitress said, “Hey, you haven’t done your crossword!” “I was doing something more important,” I replied. Tom smiled.