The clock tolled nine and familiar faces began to bustle in. I settled in and started to play, checking my jar every now and then. As the first song concluded, I caught a sight out of the corner of my eye, of an elederly man mouthing off a glass of tonic and gin.

He said, “Son, can you play me a memory? I don’t really know how it goes. But it’s short and it’s sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man’s clothes.” I did my best to indulge him, and I could tell that I either guessed correctly or played a better song as he seemed to enjoy it.

Upon the conclusion of the old-timer’s song, I approached the bar, my good friend, Joe the barkeep, catches my eye. I always go to him for my free drinks, but this time he says to me, “Bill, I believe this is killing me!” His face fell, “I know that I could be a movie star, if I could get out of this place!”