Michael

The first thing I noticed was his longer grey hair and long, thick, well shaped beard. Looking down from his face I noticed a tan leather vest.  Under the leather vest was a cream colored collarless western shirt with big flowing sleeves trimmed neatly by one inch cuffs at the wrist.  He had a long scarf around his neck and down the front of his vest.  It was barely noticeable against the shirt.  He wore blue jeans, a leather belt and very broken in western work boots.  His black Festus style cowboy hat laid on the floor. He looked like he could have just walked off the set of a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western. I guess he is in his late 50s or early 60s,  


This past Saturday midnight, he finished tuning the side by side pianos (he was recommended by a friend) and came over to where I was sitting.  I stood up, extended my hand,  "Hi, I'm Steve Kubick", I said, introducing myself.  "Hi, I'm Michael Jackson", he answered.   The contrast of his appearance and famous name made me smile.


He thanked me for waiting for him so late at night.  I told Michael that I had just started this blog and informed him of the name.  He looked at me with a lot of interest.  Maybe he was surprised that I would speak to him at all. Then I asked him The Question, "So Michael, what is it like being you?"  He knelt down by the coffee table in front of me, folded his hands and looked to the floor.

"It sucks!", Michael replied. 

"Why does it suck?", I asked, starting a 45 minute long conversation about his life.

His is a rather interesting life. He learned the trade of a piano tuner instead of going to high school and has been tuning pianos ever since.  A few years back he fell ill.  Owning his business, he had health insurance.  But when he wasn't able to work, he could not afford the premiums and lost the insurance.  He was forced to start over financially in his late 50s.  "A person doesn't start over at my age", he stated. I asked about children.  He told me about his three sons and his only grand baby. All without too much emotion. 


He brought up religion and proceeded to describe his pantheistic beliefs.  He told me that Jesus would not be happy with what churches were doing.  To his surprise, I agreed.  I was sitting in a church.  I would have normally continued down that line of conversation, but it was late and I wanted to get home so I diverted the conversation to something less taxing.


"I really like your western clothes", I said, myself wearing a light turquoise, short sleeved Cinch  shirt, Wrangler boot jeans, black leather belt and black ostrich cowboy boots.  His countenance changed with the compliment.  "Why do you dress so completely western?", I inquired, "It looks great, don't get me wrong, I am just curious why you dress like that".  


"I like it", Michael answered.  


"Why do you like it?", I pressed.  


"I don't know", he admitted.


"Did you see it in a western movie as a kid and always wanted to dress like it?".  


"I don't know", he repeated, "I guess I like it better than modern clothes."


"Fair enough", I offered, more than just a little jealous that he had the gumption to dress like HE wanted. 


Over the course of the hour, I grew to appreciate Michael, his different views and his willingness to discuss them. It was now very late and he needed to get up early and be at work by 8:00 am. 


We parted ways with a hearty handshake suitable for our clothing, big smiles and the joy of knowing we would see each other again.