December 25th was a busy day that included a house full of family gathered together for our traditional Christmas breakfast. Rob delivered the morning prayer,
thoughtfully as always, to the couple dozen of us circled in the kitchen, standing
with heads bowed and connected together, hand to hand. Afterwards, Corene, Judy and Kim served a hearty
meal of eggs, bacon and biscuits that filled every stomach in the house.
The morning continued with the opening of Christmas
presents, holiday cheer and just lounging around. The house was a hub of activity all afternoon
with people coming and going, but most regrouped in the early evening for our
traditional Christmas dinner. It was another
home cooked meal, this time with ham, meatloaf and a smorgasbord of side dishes that were certain to
add some weight to the holiday. Christmas
this year was a joyous and enjoyable, much like the prior thirty-six Christmas's
that I have been a part of this family.
Just
about 6:30pm, I heard disturbance coming from the entry foyer. As I looked from the dining room, something was going on, but I wasn't sure
what. Larry and Kayla had a look of confusion on their faces as they peered out
of the partially opened front door. I
got up to investigate and the glare from the spotlight shining on the storm door
made it difficult for me to see outside through the darkness. But on opening the door, there stood a man near
the porch stoop wearing a red Santa hat playing the trumpet. His horn was aimed at the front door and from
it came the melody of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." It was Ron Michaels.
I met Ron earlier in the
afternoon while walking the dog. He was at
the corner of Long Lane and Vincennes. It would be an odd sight to see anybody
hanging out on a street corner in my neighborhood, much less a middle aged man in
a red Santa hat, sitting in chair, in front of a music stand playing the
trumpet. He was a one man band with karaoke
equipment that played his accompaniment and a small amplifier that spread some
holiday cheer on a cold grey Christmas afternoon. I noticed a plastic container atop the amplifier
that was partially filled with coin and bills. Obviously, it was his tip jar. I was curious.
When he finished his song I applauded
enthusiastically and approached him. "I'm Ron Michaels" he said in a
friendly voice. "Michaels, like the archangel," he added. He went on to tell me that he's from
Clarksville Tennessee and is in town visiting a friend. "My buddy is an Elvis Impersonator and
I'm helping him with a plumbing project," Ron remarked. "You might have seen me on TV."
" I did an Aleve commercial." "Oh,
Ok," I replied. (He couldn't make
this stuff up, I thought to myself.) I
complimented Ron on his trumpeting and he responded that he is a professional
musician. "I've played with Tony
Bennett, Tom Jones, Rosemary Clooney and Patti LaBelle," he continued
without hesitation, almost like he had repeated that line a thousand times
over. As he played a beautiful German
Christmas hymn I became more perplexed. What
motivates a 50 something year old man to stand in the cold, on the corner of a
residential street, on December 25th and play his trumpet to an audience of a
few, mostly folks passing by in cars with the windows up? I must know more.
"Ron, when you finish here, how about stopping by my house for dinner," I said. "I live just down the street, we have a crowd of people and plenty of food." "I'll come down a play for your family," he responded with a friendly smile. I gave him my address and suggested he stop by about 5:30. "Dinner's around 6pm," I said. As I turned and headed home the sounds of "Jingle Bell Rock" filled the neighborhood.
6pm came and went and with a
house full of people, I quickly forgot about Ron Michaels. So when he showed up
at 6:30, I was taken by surprise. Ron
pointed to his watch and explained that he was mixed up as to the time. "I thought it was 5:30," he said. After he played a couple songs in front of
the house, he came inside and in short order he and his accompaniments were in
my living room.
Ron pulled a hand puppet
from his case. It was a parrot. In an attempt at comedy, he began banter between
himself and the parrot. Ron and the
parrot performed a skit for the children based on the poem "The night
before Christmas." Let me say that Ron's
ventriloquism and puppet show were not on par
with his trumpeting. However, his attempt was genuine. Ron is a talker and told stories from his travels. He proudly talked about playing for government officials including President
Bush and he shared several stories including one that he shouldn't have
repeated in mixed company. That story
had something to do with him and Miss California.
Ron declined my dinner invite and said he
needed to get back to his friend's house. He was very appreciative of the bag
of Christmas cookies I gave him to take with him. I thanked him for entertaining us and slipped
him a tip as he exited. It was a bizarre scene as I watched Ron walk down the sidewalk
on Silverhedge Drive, pulling his gear behind him and disappearing into the
darkness of Christmas night.
