Sidewalk Songs

He was standing alone at the bus stop, an old man in dusty clothes and a fedora with a broken brim, two-handedly leaning on a cane and staring at nothing in particular.

From across the street and without the aid of my glasses, he was mostly in soft focus, a song and dance man waiting for the music to start. He was slightly hunched over and planted solidly with the cane directly in front of him with his ankles crossed at right angles, one casually behind the other. Even the fedora had a jaunty tilt to it and though his face was mostly in shadow and looked like corrugated cardboard from what I could see, I knew he was smiling.

The sky, already darkening in the late afternoon, was getting even darker with the storm closing in, when the clouds unexpectedly parted and a shaft of sunlight, narrow at the top and wider at the bottom - much like a solo stage light, I thought - appeared and clearly illuminated him. I was still fumbling for my glasses but even without them, I could see him look up briefly and raise two fingers to the fedora in a smart salute to the sky.

A city bus wheezed and rumbled its way up the street and I lost sight of the old man. When it pulled away though, he was still there and this time he was clutching a violin case - grainy black, dented in places - and not unlike its owner, lightly covered in road dust. I watched him make his way to the advertise-here bench, open the handles and lay the case at his feet then gently tuck the instrument under his chin and begin to play. The music floated like smoke over water,

the notes briefly hugging each other and then drifting apart. There was a slow, sweet melancholy in the sound and it wasn't long before a few curious onlookers became a crowd and the crowd became an audience. Mothers with young children in tow came from the convenience store across the street, the mail truck pulled to the curb, the 3^rd floor windows of the nursing school were thrown open and filled with the smiling faces of the young students. Even a pair of competing teen skateboarders careened onto the pavement behind the bench and flew to a grating, abrupt and terrifying stop. Just witnessing their daredevil antics jarred my bones to the core but the spectators were not distracted and the old man with the violin was undaunted. He played the final chorus of The Tennessee Waltz and everyone, skateboarders included, applauded.