The place had pretty much cleared out. I asked her who her boss was. I paid my eleven dollar bill by adding a two hundred dollar tip asking if his waitress could sit for ten minutes with me. He agreed. I asked she didn’t know about the tip until I left the shop. He came over and told my former classmate it was ok for her to sit for ten minutes, unless the lunch crowd started to wander in.
We sat for a while as I listened to her ramble on about high school and how her life was nothing like she had planned, but she was happy and content. She was divorced with two daughters who were about to start college. She was not sure how she would pay for it all. She said she went to the last reunion from school and she had hoped to see more people like me, but not many made it that night.
She then asked me “So tell me Stu, did life turn out the way you expected it?” In that very instant all the anger jumped from my body and out the door. Here was a woman who was working in the same coffee shop for years after being laid off from her job, so she could make it all work for her daughters. She was as content and happy as I had seen a person in years. I still could barely remember her, but she was telling me about how much of an impact I had made on her life so many years ago. I felt like such a fool. I was desperately trying to remember my sophomore year in high school, cutting open a frog in biology, so that I could tell her something to make her day. I was failing miserably.
After some thought I asked her if she remembered Debby. “Uhm, was she the red head in your band?” I told her “Yea she was. Debby and I played in a band for a few years but now I am looking for something else to do.” She responded, “Oh well if you know the guitar guy at the other end of the center, he had a sign about needing help. I don’t know anything about music, but maybe you could help him.” I could not help but laugh. I am sure she didn’t understand why on so many levels I thought that was so amusing to me.
“So tell me Stu, if you and Debby played in a band around here how come I never saw you play?” I was having such a hard time holding back from kissing her right on the lips. I could only respond “After your shift is over go to the music store next to Gordy’s and if they have anything still in there that Debby and I recorded, it will be waiting for you all paid with your name on it.” She seemed so puzzled and I guess I should have come clean about it all, but for some reason I thought it was best to leave her with her thoughts about me just being Stu.
I went back over to the counter and ripped up her tip and changed it to a one thousand dollar tip. The shop owner looked closer at my credit card. I begged him not to tell. I only told him that she was the best waitress I had ever had the pleasure of speaking with and asked the manager to tell Sue, my waitress and former classmate, she affected my life as much, if not more, than I ever had hers.
I walked down to the music store and bought every Linda Sweet and Overture compact disk I could find. I autographed them all to Sue. I paid for them but decided to deliver them personally. I walked back to the coffee shop and handed her the bag. By then she knew who I was in a way, but had no idea previously that I was the “Dylan James” from The Overture. We laughed about it for a few moments. She tried to return the tip but I declined. I felt guilty it was not more. She had taken me from being miserable just a few hours earlier, to making me realize a few things about my life. I assured her it was my way of thanking her for being so nice to me. In many ways my life had turned out exactly as I had wanted it and better, but it took a waitress in a coffee shop to allow me to see it. I walked back down to where “Gordy’s Guitars” was still in business. I strolled in as if I owned the joint. I walked up to Gordy gave him a huge bear hug and told him I was now ready to listen to him and make peace. I pulled the pills from my pocket and asked him to flush them.
Gordy walked back into the main section of the store and just glared at me long enough to make his point. “What really brings you here Stu? It has been over ten years and you have not bothered to come, but today you come here? I will admit I am happy to see you but why today?” I stood there for a moment and in truth I really didn’t have a good answer. But I told Gordy, “I wish I knew why today is the day but it is, so why can’t we both accept it. I want so much to lose my anger for good and you always told me that when I was ready to find you, so I have.”
He invited me to sit while he gave his scheduled lesson, so I did. While sitting there my cell phone rang. It was the credit card company wanting to know if I really had paid one thousand dollars at a coffee shop then another three hundred dollars in a store in the same shopping plaza. I thanked them but assured them it was all ok. It made me again think about Carl. I went outside briefly to make yet another call to his cell phone and home. I still had not been able to reach Carl. There was still no response at either number. I did call my daughters and in-laws to let them know I would be another day or so in the area and not to worry. I also called my mother and told her I would be over for dinner.
After listening to a horrid lesson of some poor boy trying to play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and Gordy berate the kid for not practicing, I was having a throwback memory long forgotten. Gordy started telling the kid that if he didn’t start to take his instrument seriously, he would not allow him to take lessons any longer. The words and tone had not changed in over thirty years.
Gordy then asked me to come closer and tell the kid what I had to do the first two months of taking lessons. Again the memories I had long forgotten started to rush back and I quietly stated, “Scales Gordy, scales and more scales until my finger tips were so sore, I had to stop practicing.” Gordy turned to the far wall and pointed to a poster on the wall. It was an image of The Overture taken from behind the stage overlooking a huge crowd with a spotlight on me wailing on a solo. Gordy looked patiently at the young boy and told him “That guy on the wall is a pretty good player and I taught him in that exact same spot you are sitting in right now. He is playing a scale in front of twenty thousand people. Is that not right Stu?” I chuckled some and agreed.
I am sure the poor boy had no idea that was me on the wall or even realized how close to the truth it was, that my solo was mostly a scale I had learned from Gordy long ago. I think those comments were directed at me as much as they were the young guy. Gordy then scolded the boy and told him to go home and practice his lessons or don’t bother to return for his next one. I remembered the look on that boys face as if it were yesterday. I also had a sneaky feeling I was about the hear more of that tone from Gordy.
Again Gordy inquires of me, “Tell me again why you are here Stu?” “Look Gordy, I am not sure why all the anger, maybe I never will, but it’s time to let it go. In truth, I have nowhere else to go. So many have tried to get me to understand what my real issue is and I don’t know. Maybe I am coming home to see if I can find the answers. Now if you want me to leave I will, but I don’t have any more of an answer than that.” I felt my anger start to return when Gordy walked over and put his thumb and finger on my chin and stared in my eyes. “You found your soul Stu, but it’s not fully healed. If you are seeking to heal it, we need to go back to basics, just like your scales. If you gripe one time at me, you can get back in your fancy sports car and don’t you ever enter my doorway again. Is that understood?” That same exact feeling I had as a thirteen year old boy came rushing back. All I could do was stand there and say “Yes, I understand.”
Gordy then lets me know “Its lunch time. The little coffee shop at the other end of the plaza has some really good homemade soup.” He lets me know is buying lunch for the two of us. As I opened my mouth to reply he again says, “Not another word.” I was chuckling inside and just followed him down to the coffee shop. When we walked in both waitresses started to fight over where we would sit as if they were about to strike gold. I told Gordy “You must eat here a lot Gordy; they’re fighting over where to seat you.” He let me know, “Oh yes, they take good care of me here.” I again laughed inside and let it all go. I am not sure I ever had such good service like I did in that tiny coffee shop for
a bowl of soup ever before, or since that day. Gordy refused to let me leave the tip or pay the bill. When I stood next to him at the register, our new waitress looked like we were about to take away her last meal. Gordy had no clue what was going on. I refused to tell him. After lunch, he sent me away and told me to come back the next day. I would get a history lesson. I drove over to my parent’s house so that my mom and dad could remind me that I don’t come home nearly enough.
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Chapter 26
The next day I went over to Gordy’s with a stiff back from being my car so much, then sleeping on my parents couch. I sat waiting for Gordy to give another lesson before he had some time to talk. We sat on the same stool where he once gave me regular guitar lessons. “So, Stu tell my why all the anger and disappointment with your life? Personally I think you have had an incredible journey so far, one that millions would have loved to have and yet you sit here like a poor fool whining about your anger. Personally I pity you.”
I thought for a second, ok I can see how this conversation is going to work out. I then told Gordy, “My life was perfectly fine until the accident and then it has all just unraveled from there. My band is gone, my wife has passed away, I was in therapy and rehab for years. My daughters are now at an age where boys are the priority, not their dad. I am still an addict and the country I love is now being bombed by people from the other side of the world. I don’t understand why I am being punished even after I cleaned myself up. I did my best to become a father to my children.” Gordy had this look on his face like you must be joking and again started in “You have touched so many lives in a positive way and yet you sit here on my stool a foolish man who is loved by his creator and don’t see it! You truly are lost my friend.”
He went on, “Have I ever told you my background? I think not. Well let me tell you a bit about me and why I love sitting here on this stool day after day.” Before he could say more I interrupted him with yet another brilliant comment or so I thought. “You know Gordy I always did feel sorry for you stuck inside this store when I know you are capable of doing so much more with your abilities.” I soon found out my comments were not so brilliant after all. “Is that what you really think of me Stu? You feel sorry for me?” I don’t think I had ever seen Gordy laugh like that before. It was a genuine full belly laugh that lit up the store. “Sit back my friend and let me tell you my history.”
Gordy Davis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi in 1942. His mother was a piano teacher and his dad was an insurance salesman who played guitar to escape from being that same insurance agent. Gordy was raised a strict Southern Baptist. He did well in school but he shared his father’s passion for the guitar, and his mother’s passion for studying music. He would sit quietly as his mother gave lesson after lesson in their small home and looked at the expression on all the students’ faces after they either succeeded or failed with each sitting. They were scolded for not trying hard enough and praised for extra effort by his mother. His father would invite over some kids from the neighborhood. On weekends and they would all sit on the front porch and strum guitars.
Years later his dad would tell the story about how a young Elvis Presley would sit on that same porch with the other kids. Gordy didn’t profess that to be accurate, though in truth he never really knew for sure if one was Elvis or not. Gordy was slightly younger than Elvis. He didn’t really know any of the boy’s names who came over. His dad would give Gordy lessons as well, but his mother was the one who made him sit and do scales on the piano until he could not think straight. She would say “Learn the disciplines first, songs later.” Gordy gave up the piano since he could not hide it in his room the way he could sneak his dad’s guitar in his private space to write music. He claims to have written his first song before the age of ten and still writes on an almost daily basis. After high school, he packed his bags and headed to Nashville, Tennessee to audition for the Grand Ole Opry. Gordy claims to have played that venue many times. He wrote songs for some of the biggest stars to ever grace that very stage.
At the age of twenty, he was drafted into the army. Within a few short weeks he was fighting in the back hills of Viet Nam. Gordy proclaims that when he was drafted into the army, he was on the cusp of being a big star like Hank Williams and Bill Monroe. That is Gordy’s version of the story but I never knew him to be a liar. He continued his story about the horrors of war and seeing his mates shot and killed before his very eyes. He would patrol swamps and fields never knowing if his next step would be his last.
One day on patrol through a rice field, he was shot in the back three times and was carried several miles to a safe haven by one of his platoon leaders. By the time they could get him to a proper care facility, it was too late to save his kidney. Gordy was sent back stateside to a hospital for veterans in the Midwest to heal. He was later honorably discharged with the Purple Heart Medal from the army after less than one year on active duty. Gordy continued on for over an hour about how he too felt the part of a victim and was on heavy medications for several months. He told me that he too fought demons about why he was drafted. He did acknowledge it could have been much worse, like his fallen army buddies.
Gordy was sitting in his hospital room one afternoon when he explained how a big hulk of a man informed Gordy that he had been given the assignment of taking him to a place where his healing process would continue. At first, Gordy thought it was the army transferring him to another facility. It was hours before he realized he was driving along in a black Cadillac with a total stranger and not really sure where he was being taken. When he quizzed the driver the only response was “This will be a much better place for you to heal. Sit back we will be there soon.” Gordy then said “To my amazement I was being taken to Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley.”
Gordy’s voice changed in tenor, in a way you could tell he was at total peace, as he described his time at Graceland. “A nurse would come and check on me twice a day and a couple of male staff would tend to my needs. However every single day I was there, without fail, a few men would take me to another room where we would pray and give thanks for all our God had given us. I have to tell you Stu, it was not easy for me. I was very angry with the world for losing a kidney and being stripped of my ability to rise to the top of the country charts. At least that is the way I had perceived it at the time. However, I was not allowed to leave Graceland until I made peace with my God and the world. I know I was an adult and could have left at any time but something was keeping me there besides the good food and the great care. I knew I was healing in ways I had never thought about after I was shot. I had left my soul on the battlefield, the same way you left yours on the streets of Washington D.C after your accident.” I sat on that stool listening to the story and things started to make sense to me. I knew in a way I had heard all this from Dr. Summers and Pastor George and others over the years but there was a bond and trust I had with Gordy that broke through barriers I had put up with others.
The story continued. “I did play the Grand Ole Opry again in a band one night but I felt like that was no longer what I was put on this earth to do. I can’t explain it to you Stu, it was just a feeling that my time being a stage performer was over. I was still living at Graceland but I knew that my time there was coming to a close. I met Elvis a few times. He would stick his head in long enough to see if I had all I needed. One time he even asked me to, give my regards to your father. To this day I don’t know how Elvis found out about me. No one would ever tell me other than I should accept the fact that someone was looking out for me. I was told that only after I could find my soul again and be at peace with my faith that I could prosper. I thanked everyone at Graceland and the next thing I knew I was given a card with a key in an envelope. I was told that I would be driven to another state. I was being given a chance to start my life again as a believer and at peace. I was being given the gift to help others. I took the long trip to here in New Jersey. The key was to the front door of this shop. The driver was a
retired body guard for Elvis, who lived down the street, till his death a few years ago. The card was signed by all who I met at Graceland including Elvis, it simply reads, bring peace to others as we have to you.”
I was taking this story in with wide eyes. It all made sense to me now as to why Gordy worshiped Elvis the way he did over the years. It answered why it was so important to him to see Elvis perform and always go back stage to thank everyone. The time Gordy took me to see Elvis perform I did find it all odd because the thanks were not just for the music. You could tell it was for something else more meaningful to Gordy.
After a brief respite in the conversation Gordy asked me, “Do you still think my time here didn’t touch anyone? How many lives did you touch Stu? Remind me again who taught you how to play? Do you know Father Joe, the new priest who took over for Father Daniel? Well, when he was a young boy his parents were killed in a car accident and he was taken in by his grandmother. She told me Joe was so lost and angry with the world. I gave him free lessons for years. Eventually he found his soul through music. He let his anger go and is now a priest in the neighborhood where he resided as a kid. How many lives does he touch on a daily basis? Maybe he would not have become a priest if he is not in here cleaning that same window and this same floor you swept as a teenager. I have taught hundreds not just music but about how to be a happy person and enjoy their time on earth. How many lives did they touch Stu? Now tell me again how my life was wasted by not playing a few extra nights on a stage in Tennessee.”
A Beautiful Song: A Musical Soul Story Page 24