Karaoke On The River #3

While awaiting my turn to sing my generally two numbers a night within a 3 hr time span, I like to be sociable. That's only because it's difficult to read my favorite book when they dim the lights for a romantic number. You're like, forced to listen.

Sometimes you're glad you listened, sometimes not. I tend to find something to love about everybody. It's not that difficult.

The other night Texas Sam, age 77, recently widowed by a short span of 6 months, after a long, and I'm thinking fruitful 56 year marriage. After I rendered a passable yodel on stage for my first debut, I noticed Sam crooked his finger at me to come over. Stupidly, I did. I have to admit, certain portions of our relationships were fun, vaguely entertaining before things got incredibly sticky a time or two.

I had come to his table expecting something like what I was used to hearing. "Fine yodel there, or I liked your number." Instead what I got was "I just lost my wife 6 months ago."

Right away warning bells should have been ringing. This is not the normal way to introduce one's self in society. It is begging for sympathy. I have plenty of sympathy, as a matter of fact my guides showed me a dream that wherever I go, I might need to wear a diaper as I leak sympathy. And so I hugged him. Mistake number two. My friends assure me I did nothing wrong.

I am there at the club strictly to dance and sing. It's my relaxation outlet. I am with a minister's degree, albeit my ministry is all undercover and inbetween the lines rather than inbetween the sheets. I am also celibate by choice since 1990, after I assure you, having utilized my body in many famous romps and with a variety of the male species, none can compare with my soul mate who went home early. I too am a widow in the true sense of the word, and it was not by choice, since 1983.

Although, I could sing a good rendition of Hello Young Lovers, I've had a love of my own! I could pull it off well I'm sure. When Sam sang Welcome To My World, and told me straight off he was singing it to me, I started to get worried, not so much that he picked that particular number, but because he literally slaughtered the number with his singing voice.

As I looked around at the audience, their deadpan faces flashed me back to a resthome gig I'd done in the 80's whereby everyone was sitting there waiting to die and here's this little bozo singing life is a cabaret. I had much to learn.

Texas Sam and I spent a few days hitting the slot machines and throw in one sandwich cut in half at the casino restaurant which he just had to remind me upon our departure that he paid for that sandwich and let me have the side with the chicken pattie on it, and btw, Sam, I don't think that was really chicken.

Sam bought me 3 glasses of zin which ended up on his shoes one night. That is a memory I'm not likely to forget. I gave him my book Road Signs which he objected to the celibate statement I'd made in the book and he told me he has used Viagra before. I almost hit him at that point, but thought I'd wait until the holy spirit bid me to do so.

I never know why I'm in a relationship. It's true. Can't think that far ahead anymore. Perhaps it's old age setting in. He later apologized for saying such things, but explained I made him feel young again. More warning bells went off. Sam began talking to anyone in the casino who was within earshot, that he was in love with Laughing Rain.

Don't you want someone to grow old with someday, said Sam while the tips of my ears flamed up. For I was actually going through my second childhood at that point and about ready to belt out "I don't need your rockin chair." It didn't matter how crusty a song I might sing, he could see only stars in his eyes, and someone to replace his wife. He said he would take care of me. Not all men say such things, so he deserves respect, but the thing is, I like my privacy and independence, at the same time I like making new friends.

To complicate matters, Sam holds a minister's certificate also. Although he is not active, and it is a Baptist degree, while mine is spiritual humanism.  As a minister, former or not, I figured he should have enough sense not to tell everyone in the whole place we were already a set and at last, at last, his love has come along. It was just a sympathetic hug bubba. Back off, I would have liked to say, but had to have a male friend let him down instead.

The talk I talked was never good enough. It never has been good enough. I hear myself speaking but apparently I speak too softly my truth. I'm your friend, not your lover.

But most of all, no one can drag me off the stage. Music has always been my first love and I lost my soul mate on account of that love. I would have done it differently, if I could go back, but only in this respect, I would speak louder of who I am and what my ambitions are. It's not that I wanted another man way back then. I wanted to follow where the music took me is all. He didn't understand, and that was my fault. It would have come out in the marriage counselor's office, however my offer to get counseling was not the acceptable action my husband expected.

So poof. Divorce. Now it seems I'm having lots of fun singing, dancing and laughing and the men are oozing out of the woodwork saying to themselves, ah, yes, I'll take that one.

I'm running out of books to hand out but it doesn't matter really, as they don't understand the writing there. I'm not sure but what my reputation might be ruined at the club as maybe I am the river ho by now. I truly hope I can be forgiven shortly my indiscretions and shortcomings of being as my mentor friend said "too friendly."

What a slap in the face albeit it didn't hurt as it hit home. Time to get ready for another show stopper rendition I must do. Maybe tonight I'll do Jackson Browne's Doctor My Eyes.

And God bless the broken hearted like Sam, he doesn't have a whole lot of years left to live and you can tell, he's a little desperate. I know the feeling.