What Was Beautiful - Melody Cryns

It was beautiful when Mike H. sat on my couch in my cluttered living room, my classical acoustic guitar lying across his lap so that he could play one-handed because of his stroke a year ago which paralyzed the left side of his body – plucking notes on the guitar and singing songs that he wrote many years ago to me. I could feel and hear the fun in some of the songs and the heart-felt emotion in others. It was like my own private show and I could not have been more delighted when Mike H. said last Thursday night while we sat at the coffee shop, “I’d like to play you some songs that I wrote – or rather sing them because I’m not playing too much anymore.” He smiled that beautiful smile of his and pointed to his left arm.

It made me sad thinking of how difficult it must be for Mike not to play his instruments – the bass, the guitar, mandolin, banjo, ukulele, you name it. But I didn’t let on – I could tell he was covering up his own frustration and sadness. As we sat at Dana Street Roasting, my favorite coffee shop where I actually met Mike H. for the first time in early December, smelling the roasted coffee beans, we both talked and laughed.

Mike shared with me that a cop took his handicapped placard away.

“What the heck?” I said, more than a little surprised. Mike’s left leg is paralyzed and he sort of has to drag it along with the help of a cane – and now they took his handicapped placard away? I mean, if anyone needs one, he certainly does.

“Yeah, it’s a pain. The DMV was supposed to send me a new one, but it has yet to arrive.”

I thought of people who probably have handicapped placards when they don’t really need one – and here this guy is literally dragging his leg. I’m always freaked out each time Mike H. descends upon the stairs leading up to my apartment – I’m sure they’re treacherous for him, yet he does it – he gets himself up and down the stairs (he says getting down them is hardest).

I was thrilled when Mike H. said he wanted to share some of his music with me. It had meaning to me – he’s infiltrating my life in mellow and unexpected ways, and I dig it. Sometimes I long for it to be more, yet I don’t say that to Mike. I was thrilled when he showed up unexpectedly at Coyote Stage Stop a week prior and got to meet my friend Heidi who was visiting from Washington.

We stayed at the coffee shop for what seemed like hours before finally making our way outside. Mike moves pretty well for a guy who’s paralyzed, his tall and mighty six foot four frame leaning against his cane – yet one can still feel his strength.

Mike only says what he means, straight and to the point. He never does or says anything without thinking about it, and he explained how when he writes a song, he thinks about every word and every note…that only rarely has he been able to just come up with an entire song in no time at all, but it has happened.

So I’m taking in what Mike H. has to offer me – and even playing the beautiful baritone ukulele he gave me. And, in return, Mike H. sang me songs.

I can still see him stretched out on the loveseat with guitar in lap, plucking notes on the guitar in a wonderfully beautiful and unique one-handed way, his lovely voice resounding through my living room – he can sing a low baritone and he can sing the high falsetto notes and everything in between – it was his deep baritone voice that caught my ear when I walked into the coffee shop that early December evening – singing harmony with the other Irish folk singers, his voice louder and more resounding than the rest, so much so that he didn’t even need a microphone.

And when he sang that song about his childhood friend, Roberta, hearing him sing it and the story of his true childhood friend, and how they never had the guts to tell each other how they felt, it truly touched my heart because I remembered my own childhood friend whom I felt the same way about – and that tiny pain will always remain in my heart as well – and it sounded beautiful…I could hear the story, feel the music inside me…and look right into Mike’s blue eyes as he sang…

and nothing could be more beautiful at that moment in time.