Time was all he needed was his old guitar. He would get up on the stage with just his old Martin guitar and sing his heart out.
People loved it, and him, So much that now he had long since abandoned his street corner, His days as a street performer where long gone. Theses days he traveled in a million dollar bus, with all of the comforts of home. And than some. He now had a entourage of 100 people on his payroll. They did everything from take care of his bus, set up stage, lighting sound, and equipment, and things he didn't even know existed.
Sometimes, when he lies in the back of his bus drifting off to sleep, his mind goes back to the old days. Back when he barely had money to eat, and slept wherever he could find a warm dry place. back than it was literally him and his old guitar.
At one time he knew who his friends were. People who supported him, feed him, let him barrow money, found him gigs to play. Now he could never completely trust anyone, Everyone from the old days was gone. To the outside world, he'd made it. But had he really ? Made what? A fortune doing what he loved, playing and singing, yes, he had that, but what about a family? A wife, kids and extended family? He had none. All of theses things and more weighted heavy on his mind over many months.
One day he just walked off the stage, out the back door and disappeared into the night. That was over 20 years ago.
The mystery of his sudden disappearance, and why has become the stuff of legend. Over the years many tales have circulated about why he left his life. No one knows the truth. That is, except him and his family. Somewhere in Virginia, he lives with his wife, and 6 kids and grand-kids. He works in a a local hardware store, hunts and fishes, and spend quality time with his grand-kids. Sometimes that plays his old songs and they have no idea that's their grandpa their listening to.
Once in a while when its late at night, he gets the old Martin out and plays. Now as he enter his twilight years, he knows his life has been well lived.
The old kitchen table had long since seen better days. Over the years, many meals had been prepared and served on it. There were scratch marks and gouges in the top from various family dinners that had included many turkeys, and hams and other large pieces of meat. Unfortunately not all were cut with the efficiently of a master chef. Most were , shall we say, unceremoniously mangled into bite size portions. Which were served to the various family members attending the event.
The old table had been the scene of many hours of homework. The homework ranged over the years from simple spelling words to world history, and many topics in between. Three generations of children had eaten and done homework on the table over the years. Oh the games that it had seen. From Go fish, to Yahtzee, and on more then few occasions poker, bridge, gin, and many board games. Stories had been related over the meals and games, memories had been made, first dates, last dates, fights, making up, and one more then a few Christmas secrets had been told across the table.
Today , it sat in he garage, in the far back corner, waiting to be first used as a work bench, and probably as is the usual manner of course, to be piled high with junk, no one knows what to do with, or wants to get rid of.
Eventually, it will be rediscovered under a pile of stuff that should have been tossed decades ago. The new owners will oh and ah over it. Marvel at the quality workmanship, and the fine quality of the wood. The scratches and gouges and various stains in the top, will be noted. There will be a discussion of weather to leave the table as is, or have it refinished. It will be decided that the table should stay the way it is. So the table will be moved back into the house, placed back in the kitchen, and used again for another several generations of the new family. The old table would be a rabble rouser if it could talk. The family history the old kitchen table has seen and will see with the new family would be enough to fill several books,