Finally on stage for the first time . . .

KABOOM-KISH echoed through the garage from Danny's emerald green "Tama" drum set.

That was my cue.  I took a deep breath  and nervously tightened the fabric strap attached to my banana colored electric guitar then stepped toward the standing microphone in front of me.  I saw Stephanie, who was at her Yamaha keyboards make a tiny wave at Kayla and Sammie.  Both of them waved at their dad who pointed a drumstick at me and I said to the growing crowd of family and friends,

"Thank you, everyone.  Thank you. Now before we get this thing started, allow me to introduce you to some people who, obviously, need no introduction at all.
       
"Leading the band on drums and more importantly, the father of my two beautiful nieces. . .  Danny."

This was followed by the customary ba-da-bump of the drums and a roar from the audience.

"Next, we have Danny's little girls, Kayla and Sammie who will be accompanying him on their miniature drums."

Again came the ba-da-bump.  Only this time a symbol vibrated with a KISH.

"Yeah!" both girls giggled, "we rock!" More applause mixed with laughter.

"Let's hear some noise for Stephanie who, I'm told can perform musical magic on her new Yamaha keyboards." I smiled and continued, "Yup, let's go Steph.  Alright!"

Once more . . .ba-da-bump.  Then the crowd began to cheer louder.
"And. . . and. . ." I waited for the cheering to subside so I could announce, " for the first time anywhere, my brother and your cook, Jack."

"Whooowee, alright!" Joanne yelled as she jumped amidst the crowd.

When the cheering subsided, Jack who was on a bar stool with his back to the crowd, breathed into the microphone murmured , "Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen."

I looked at his feet and saw he had connected a vocal synthesizer to his mike.  A brilliant move which can add pitch tones and even nuances to the most ordinary of voices.  I realized that with a lot of help from his new "friend" Jack could sound like his favorite singer.

While wearing a black dinner tuxedo Jack pivoted on the stool.  Once facing the crowd a single blue overhead spotlight beamed on his transformed head.  

The change was dramatic.  Curled silver locks replaced his thinning allotment of hair and two rosy cheeks, aviator-style sunglasses, and an enormous hooked nose completed the metamorphosis.

"Whoooweee . . . sex-y," Joanne shouted.

"And finally, little ol' me on guitar" I said

"Yeah, Uncle Jimmy rocks!" Kayla and Sammie shouted.

"Do we have any requests, out there?"
Danny asked and continued with, "Wait . . .How about 'A Horse With No Name'?"

Jack smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and gasped, "Geez . . . why didn't I think of that?"

Stephanie began to lead the entire crowd in the chant, "Horse With No Name . . . A Horse With No Name . . . A Horse With No Name . . ."

My wife, Billie, who was situated in the Handicap Accessible section of the audience raised the bongos that she had on her lap and shouted "He doesn't know that one!"

Joanne heard and asked, "Is that true?  For years that song was the only one Jimmy knew?"

"I know.  But I guess after twenty years begging to play it, he gave up hope." Billie told her.

"Jack, Jack," Joanne shouted, " Tony!! Who ever you are, he doesn't know that anymore."

My brother turned to me and asked, "Is that true?"

I nodded.

"What do you know?" he asked.  Then added "but it such an easy song to play"

"I can pretty much handle Stairway to Heaven or most Beatle songs, some Dylan, and the first eight bars of "The Happy Birthday Song."

 "And???" Jack asked.

"That's it. Nada.  No more.  I told you everything.  There aren't any more songs I can play, kidd-o.  Besides you knew I was a work in progress." I answered.

"Oh boy, you really are a piece of work.  Gotta hand it to you there, Jim."

"Hey Dad" Danny spoke up.

"We have an entire set of songs, right there.  What's the problem?" 

"The problem is that I only memorized the words to "A Horse With No Name", that's the problem." Jack murmured.

Danny had begun to set up the small karaoke player which displayed song lyrics as his father was explaining that he didn't know any of the words to the  songs I could play.  

I turned my brother's attention to the little machine at his feet and in a barely audible tone, he said, "Never mind."

"Sorry for the brief interruption, ladies and gentlemen.  We had to address a minor technical problem." Danny announced. "So sit back and we hope you enjoy the show."

All the garage lights dimmed, except for the one single blue spotlight that haloed Jack's head then he began crooning with the aid of the vocal synthesizer, "I left my heart . . ."

Stephanie accompanied her dad by playing the gentle piano background while Danny and his girls added a soft and swaying beat to the tune.

". . .in San Fran-ciss-co . . " Jack stood and placed his free hand over his heart to intensify emphasis.  The band continued to play and the crowd cheered louder.

A white sheet unfurled, directly behind the band, from inside the top of the garage.  Jack tapped the "play" button on a carousel slide projector that rested near the vocal synthesiser at his feet.  The crowd reaction to the first slide of the Golden Gate Bridge was immediate and intense. The next slide, an orange and golden panorama of a sunset, proved to be just as effective as the last scene.

When the band finished the first song, it was greeted to the sound of a thrilled and surprised  audience. The applause was spontaneous.

However before the reaction subsided, I saw two police officers standing on the hood of their patrol car flashing their thumbs above their heads, while making the universal "okay" sign.  I later discovered a disgruntled neighbor called 911 to complain about the large crowd.
Instead of asking the growing crowd to disperse, one of the officers shouted for a request.

"Do you know any Zeppelin?"

Danny pointed a drumstick at me and said, "I believe that question was directed at you, Uncle Jimmy."

I answered by playing the first five notes of "Stairway to Heaven."

During that song, I saw the crowd extend past the patrol car.  Some younger kids were even standing on the hoods of the parked cars across the street. Indeed, it was our finest performance.  I had practiced for months and months alone on that piece.  To my ear, and mind you, I stress my ear the tune sounded great.  There were times, I confess, some of the high notes seemed unreachable.  Yet I was covered by Danny's supremacy of the drums. 

Helen, Joanne's mom, leaned closer to Billie after a short break and spoke.  Billie smiled and repeated what she heard to Joanne who in turn whispered in Jack's ear.

"It seems we have a request for a song that means a great deal to many of us here." Jack told the crowd.

He turned towards all the band members and shared the words his wife had just asked him.  His foot pressed on the fast forward arrow on the projector until he reached a series of old family photos mixed with several landscapes of  irish farmlands and meadows.  When he finished he nodded to Stephanie who turned a few switches and adjusted a dial on her Yamaha to "Bagpipes" and began to play the introduction of an old celtic classic.

The entire band leaned over the nearest microphone and sang "O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling . . ." Almost immediately and without any cue the crowd added, "from glen to glen, and down the mountainside .  .  ."

Those who didn't know the words, swayed to and fro with their friends, family,  or strangers who were already singing, "the summer's gone and all the flowers are dying. . ."

My attention was  sidetracked.  I began to smell a feint burning and I thought it was my electric guitar so I walked to the amplifier and unplugged the wire.  I still smelled that something was burning.  I asked the rest of our band and none of them smelled anything at all.  I began to get a little nervous when the aroma intensified.  This time it smelled like, like . . .  hot dogs. Burning hot dogs, no wait, barbecue hot dogs.  

The singing of the crowd started to change to a loud gargling sound.  As the gargling got louder, I could detect specific voices.

"How anyone can sleep while Danny is playing with the rest of the band is beyond me.  And it's rude." Billie said.

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it.  He must be dead tired." Jack said

"No, I feel bad." Billie explained. "He should be awake for this.  After all, Danny got everyone together to play for his Uncle's seventieeth birthday."

Jack shrugged his shoulders and said to Billie, "Did I ever tell you about the time
I bumped into him on the F train?"

Billie shook her head and smiled.

"Well I was coming back from the city, I forget the reason I was there, but that's not important.  Anyhow, I saw Jimmy leaning against one of the doors.  Ya know the ones that say "Please do not lean on door", those doors.  He was sound asleep, so I stepped directly in front of him, toe to toe and waited for him to open his eyes and see me.  Well he didn't open them until it was our stop to get off the train.  I had to poke him to say, "Hey, aren't you gonna say "hello" to your brother."  Point is I know he sleeps like the dead and we are never offended when he drifts off to sleep."

"Look at what he's doing, Jack?" Billie pointed to my lips that were moving as I slept.

"He must be hungry"

"No, no, he's . . ." Billie hesitated before she said "Your bother is singing in his sleep."

I stilled smelled the aroma of barbecued hot dogs but the loud gurgling I heard had changed to laughter.  Loud laughter.

That wasn't the only change.  The  faces of the excited audience in front of me became hazy and transformed to a clearly jovial small cicle of friends and relatives.  Large thin cardboard signs that said "70" and "Celebrate" decorated the side of the swimming pool in front of me.  A salt and pepper haired Danny was playing his drums with his teenage daughters playing theirs, and the smell of a barbecued hot dog was on Billie's plate, who sat right next to me.  I blinked  twice and then I squeezed my eyelids shut once more before opening them and said to nobody in particular, "I'm sorry, was I sleeping?"

Billie, Jack, and Joanne smiled at me.  I saw the band in the garage and a spare acoustic guitar near an old Yamaha keyboard and I jumped from my chair to  say, "Now you gotta let me play "A Horse With No Name" before I forget it.

"Go get em tiger."

Both Kayla and Sammie shouted "Yeah!  Uncle Jimmy rocks!"

When I heard them I scratched my cap and thought only one thing, "Did this just happen?"