Waffle Fries, Coffee and the Blues

There I was in my favorite restaurant, at my favorite corner table with the dreaded writer’s block. I often liked to get away to this place and just hide myself in my laptop and just write, but that night I just couldn’t think of any story ideas at all. I’m not sure how long I sat there as I stared out over the cars in the drive-thru. The looks that I received back from the drivers let me know it must have been a while. It’s not that I stared at them; it’s just that they were in my field of vision that went past the cars in the drive-thru, past the dogwood tree, the gas station and the other chicken restaurant. I really didn’t see them or anything around them. My mind was instead deep in thought. What brought me out of my stupor was the bright light that shone in my face from a flashlight pointed at me from a Police Officer friend of mine. Of course I smiled and waved at him, then placed my focus back into the restaurant and to the empty page that stared back at me. After one hour there’s no title added; no name or page number, nothing. All I needed was just one simple sentence to jump start my thoughts. I thought about writing about chicken sandwiches or waffle fries. Even people who ate fast-food, or better yet, people who wrote short stories while they ate fast-food. At that point I became very frustrated and ready to go home and call it a night.

I once again smiled at my friend who awakened me from my fog with that beam to the face, then packed up my computer to leave. As I asked for a refill, I noticed an older gentleman who sat all alone just to the right of the door as you exited. He had a guitar wrapped up in Kroger plastic bags that stood up right beside him in the booth. His red plaid bomber stocking cap was pulled down over his head to his neck so tight that it smashed his ears into the side of his head. His big winter coat was black and covered him from his neck to his knees. He asked the worker that walked by him if he could have a cup of coffee. The worker replied that it would be his pleasure to serve him but insisted that he walked up to the register to pay first or use the app from his table, and he’d be more than glad to bring him a cup. I walked over and sat down at the table across from him and told him I’d buy the coffee if he would tell me about his guitar. Without hesitation he happily agreed to my offer.

As I opened my app to order his coffee, he told me his dad was Muddy Waters, a famous blues guitar player, and then he complained that there were too many fries for him to eat in his box. Wait. What? This man that is seated in front of me is the son of one of the best blues artists who ever lived?

He didn’t say another word after he dropped that bombshell on me. He just sat there pushing waffle fries into his mouth one after the other while looking toward the counter for his cup of coffee.

“I’ve been waiting for a nice hot cup of coffee all day long. It’s cold enough outside to freeze your bones. You know how hard it is to play a guitar in the cold?”

As he received the coffee from the employee he continued to talk about his guitar playing.

“You know I played backup guitar for Janis Joplin and several other big stars during the 1970’s?”

I sat there for a moment shocked and didn't say a word as he put his cream and sugar in his coffee. Here is this guy in front of me, whom I believed may be homeless, telling me his dad is one of the best blues guitar players who ever lived and that he had played music with the iconic Janis Joplin. I didn’t know what to say. He dropped a lot of amazing information in just a few sentences before I could even get a word out to say anything.

"My name is Leroy “Old School” Pete,” he continued. “You know I'm YouTube famous as a singer?"

After the day I was having, I felt like I really didn’t know anything. As he sipped his coffee and ate another waffle fry, I searched YouTube to see if what he said was true. Sure enough, I found a video with Leroy as he sat with his guitar alone in a living room as he belted out several blues songs. The video had been up for 7 years with 1300 views and a few comments. The moment he heard the first chord from the guitar he remarked about me finding his famous video. He laid his coffee down and tilted his head a bit and closed his eyes as he listened and hummed along with the song.

"See I told you I was famous. What a sweet bluesy sound. My guitar sings right along with me. Can you hear her singing?"

I smiled at Leroy and told him how great he sounded, and how that guitar can definitely talk some good blues. He nodded his head and continued to hum along with the video. One story after another he continued to tell me of the many different artists that he played along with over many years. He paused for a moment after he mentioned B.B. King and told me a story from his childhood.

"When I was a kid about 7 years old, my dad had friends over playing the blues together, as they did every weekend. Well, one day after weeks of listening to them play together, he told me to pick up his guitar next to us and play along. I was just a little fella then and had never played before and this guitar at the time was so big to me, so I told him no. Well he just bopped me upside the head and said boy pick that thing up and play it. Damn right I picked that thing up and have been playing ever since that time. It's been about 70 years now."

He sipped his coffee while he looked around the restaurant. He adjusted the strings from his hat that was tied just below his chin.

“You asked me about my guitar. Do you play an instrument?”

“Yes sir, I have been playing trumpet for about 40 years. Have a son who’s been playing about 10 years as well.”

He ate his last fry, and then sipped another drink of his coffee.

"This coffee is damn good. It sure warms up my old bones. I've been out on the road walking for miles and came in here just to warm up. I’ve never been in Kentucky before tonight. Walked and hitched rides all the way up here from Louisiana. Have you ever been to New Orleans?”

Before I could answer him, he peeked outside through the window next to our tables and pointed to something pushed up against it.

"Yep, there's my cart sitting right there. Glad nobody stole it from me. Happens all the time, you know? All I have is my guitar and I like her to have a nice ride to travel around in with me."

He opened another sugar packet for his almost emptied coffee cup.

"This old guitar has been my friend for many years. It's a Gibson. I've had many people try and take it from me, but I'd fight them off. Most of them can’t even play. They just want to sell her for the money. I'd be lost without her. She is more important to me than any amount of money."

He once again looked around the restaurant and fussed about places like that for not allowing him to play for customers.

"You know people would all gather around if they heard great music, and I sure can really play some great music. The managers in restaurants just don't understand it. Imagine if you played your trumpet along as I played guitar. Wouldn’t that sound great? You play good, right?"

I nodded my head, “Yes sir. I love playing the blues on my trumpet.”

Leroy just grinned at me when I mentioned the blues. For a brief moment he just sat there as he stared at his now emptied coffee cup. He looked up at me then lowered his face toward the table and breathed in through his nose and let it out through his pursed lips.

"My dad was a great man? This sweet Gibson is all that I have left from him. I’d be lost without her by my side."

He smiled and nodded at me as he picked up his plastic bag wrapped guitar and walked out the door to his empty grocery cart.

I watched him as he placed his guitar in his cart and slowly pushed it across the well-lit parking lot until he disappeared around the corner. I was at a loss for words, so I just sat there and stared at my reflection in the window beside me. I smiled as I thought about all the great stories he told me about how he grew up playing the blues. As a trumpet player, I knew Muddy Waters only had three sons, and none of them were named Leroy. I didn't want to tell him I knew this, because I didn't want to ruin his dream. He seemed so happy being the son of a famous blues singer and the backup guitarist for big named artists like Janis Joplin and B.B. King. Who was I to tell him his life story wasn't real? How do I know for sure if what he said wasn't true? As a kid I always acted like I was someone famous, from Michael Jordan when I played basketball, to Jacques Cousteu when I went swimming in the local pool. We all have had so many dreams as kids. Can’t we have those same dreams as an adult? Maybe Leroy’s dream is what kept him going through his rough life on the streets? All I know is that night my life became a whole lot better after the brief moment I spent with Leroy "Old School" Pete. I’d like to thank Leroy for the dreams he shared with me, whether they were real or not. It was an honor to be a small part of his big journey through life.

Wouldn't you know it; I never did get to start that short story.