I have no idea of what heaven would be like, but I have my thoughts.
As I look back, the nearest I may have come to heaven, perhaps, was in a piano bar in downtown Minneapolis. Allee Pigalle, it was named, and it drew four devil-may-cares on the prowl that night, must have been about 1978. Twenty somethings.
This was long before the obnoxious invention called Karaoke. The little bar was an intimate setting, where a friendly mistress encouraged patrons to cozy beside her baby grand and join her in whatever pleased. Very skilled in her craft, soon we complied: Bruce, Randy, Wayne and myself joined a previously seated singleton, and bellyed up to the piano bar, cocktails at hand.
Her talent seemed endless, as she seduced and guided us through a myriad of old favorites. Passing the microphone around, we sang heartily, often in harmonious quartet format, all Lutheran boys from Concordia, who had spent many a boring hour in enforced church chorus or congregational song, or even in college choir.
We sang through her variety of show tunes. She had large print song books to dish around in the dimness, and we did our best to entertain the roomful that had come just for the fun that summer weeknight. Eventually she turned a page to the popular show tune “Ol’ Man River” and I remembered hearing it being sung by a deep, rich bass, and recalled it to my memory. Seizing the day, I grabbed the mike and took my turn, careful not to spill the rest of my drink, and did my best to imitate that singer. Using the best vocal technique my dear mother ever taught me, I belted the finest rendition I could muster.
When done, I was pleased, even got a ripple from pre-occupied patrons. Then the microphone was genially passed around to the others and they offered their tunes . . . all except the man at the end of the bar, who had been just silently enjoying the pleasant camaraderie.
Eventually, not wishing to leave anyone out, the pianist kindly gestured to him, saying: “Sir, would you like to sing anything? Do you have any requests?”
“Yes,” the stranger responded. “I want to hear him sing ‘Old Man River’ again.”
And that, my dear friends, is what heaven must be like.
