The Karaoke King, Being Made or Becoming

It was a Friday evening at 6PM and I was locking the door of the shop when I heard a diesel truck pulling in behind me.  I had heard the sound of that particular motor before, and my mind quickly went down the list of everyone I knew who drove a truck with that motor. And John was one of them.  Before I could turn around that familiar melodious voice floated across the parking lot to my ears.  He growled, “Hey Brother Chris, Where do you think you are going?  I’ve got some serious truck problems.”  “Well, you are just S.O.L. my Brother,” I said.  “There’s no one here that can fix it until Monday.” He got a shocked look on his face and said, “S.O.L.??? Do you know what that stands for?” “Don’t look so shocked,” I said.  “Of course I know.  It stands for Sorry, Out of Luck.” “That ain’t what it means in my neck of the woods,” he chuckled.  “I guess we are lucky that we aren’t in your neck of the woods then,” I replied.  “What’s wrong with your truck?  It sounds good to me.” “Awww there’s nothing wrong with Ol Blackie,” he grinned.  “I was just giving you a hard time.  Actually I have a pretty serious meeting with the owner of my company tomorrow morning, and it might not be a good one,” he said as his grin turned into a frown.  “They are doing a lot of cutbacks because of the economy, and it might have gotten to be my turn.  I will know tomorrow.  It’s not going to be easy to sleep tonight.” I felt bad for him and told him that I had to work that night at the Fiesta in San Antonio at the Night in Old San Antonio.  It’s a big yearly party and he had never been. I knew it would take his mind off the next day, so I loaded him up and we headed downtown to Fiesta.  Now Fiesta is a big deal in San Antonio.  It is an eleven-day and night party of carnivals, parades, picnics, and more kinds of food than you can imagine.  I have worked for the past twenty years at what they call Night in Old San Antonio, which is four nights of fun, food, and really happy people.  My Softball buddies and I work the souvenir booth in clown alley.  People come from all over the world to Fiesta in San Antonio and it’s always a lot of fun so I thought John could eat all he wants and be around a lot of happy people ….  some of them slightly to more than slightly inebriated.  I figured this would be perfect for John.  Little did I know how perfect it would be for him.  The night started out calmly enough.  I introduced John to the team, and he jumped right in selling t-shirts and all kinds of flashing souvenirs.  After about twentyminutes I saw him sniffing the air and I could tell his production was going to go down quickly if I didn’t feed him, so we joined the mass of party – goers who were hopping from food booth to food booth trying as many different things as possible.  I told John that we would hit a few places and then go back to our booth and eat.  Right around the corner from our booth was what they called “Fat Bread” which was some kind of English Muffin with a layer of cheese topped by a layer of mushrooms and heated up.  I told John it was one of my favorites and he got four.  I shook my head and told him to moderate because there was a lot of different food to try.  He nodded his understanding,and we dove back into the crowd to find the next food booth.  About fifty feet down we encountered a booth selling Bratwurst and Sauerkraut which I was going to pass up, but he nearly jerked me off my feet when he reached out to stop me.  “I love German Braats and Kraut,” he exclaimed.  “OK get some and let’s go,” I said. Pretty soon we were back in the flow and by the time we got back to our booth we had stopped at least tendifferent food booths and bought three different kinds of meatballs, some nachos, two different kinds of Gorditas, a Turkey Leg, Some Fried Green Tomatoes, a couple of Corn Dogs, something called Matinee Chips which looked like big Fried Jalapenos, and he really got excited about a booth with “Steer on a Stick.”  I think he got four or five of those. I stayed a little ahead of him the whole time so I wouldn’t have to foot the bill for the double arm load of gastric distress that he was carrying around. When we finally got back to our booth I laid my stuff out and motioned to a spot for John and he sat down. I looked to see all the food he had bought but all he had in his hands was empty containers and wrappers. “What happened to all your food John,” I asked. “Heck Brother Chris,” he answered. “I was so hungry I was eating as we were walking. Now I ate all of it and I am hungry again.” I said, “If you want to fight that crowd again then have at it but I am going to eat now.” “I have to get some more of that Steer on a Stick,” he replied, “And some more of those Jalapenos and I saw a couple of other things I wanted, so I will be back in a little while.” Before I could reply he was gone. I was pretty happy to just sit there and enjoy some of the tastiest food there is, and it is onlyavailable once a year at Fiesta. The only negative was that the booth next to ours was a Karaoke booth and hour after hour was a constant assault to the musical sensibilities of anyone within a fifty-foot radius of the booth. I didn’t think it was possible to butcher good music this bad. I finished eating and went back to selling t-shirts and a few minutes later John appeared back in the booth. He seemed like a different person. He was happy and grinning at everyone like a big goofus. He had all the girls in the booth giggling and laughing. I can’t swear to it, but I think he may have encountered a Margarita or two while he was wandering about all by himself…… even though he denied it. Anyway he finally got back to the counter and selling the souvenirs. All was going good and business was brisk and I never saw John leave the booth but the next thing I know the intro music to one of my favorite songs started up next door at the karaoke booth and I braced myself for the inevitable off key, intoxicated version of a great George Strait song. In the rest of the world George is a darn good country western singer but in San Antonio he is the KING. I said a silent apology to the country music Gods as the music paused and the words came………… 

“Amarillo by morning…. Up from San Antone………… Everything that I got……… Is just what I’ve got on”………  Almost immediately I realized that…  this guy was good. The voice was a little lower than George’s but still really good. “When that sun is high in that Texas sky….. I’ll be buckin at the County fair…….. Amarillo by morning…… Amarillo I’ll be there” Everyone at the booth thought so too because they were all looking to the right trying to get a look at the singer and I could see a lot of the crowd that was passing by had slowed down to hear the song too. I had to walk over to the end of the counter to see up to where the singer was and all the helpers in the booth were blocking me. “They took my saddle in Houston ……………. Broke my leg in Santa Fe …….. Lost my wife and a girlfriend….. Somewhere along the way” I finally nudged one of my buddies out of the way and … I just about fainted … “I’ll be lookin for eight when they pull that gate and I hope that judge ain’t blind”  it was John “Amarillo by morning…… Amarillo is on my mind” By now all of our customers had left our booth as well as all the surrounding booths and along with the crowd that had stopped moving now were all bunched up in front of the karaoke booth. Well I wasn’t the only one who was standing there with my mouth hanging open and the crowd that was getting bigger by the minute was really enjoying the performance. And on he went… “Amarillo by morning……. Up from San Antone……… Everything that I got… is just what I’ve got on”……. All I could do was shake my head and smile. “I ain’t got a dime, but what I got is mine… I ain’t rich but Lord I’m free………. All my buddies were looking at me like ..Who is this guy? “Amarillo by morning…….Amarillo’s where I’ll be” All I could do is shrug my shoulders and wait for the finish…. “Amarillo by morning, Amarillo’s where I’ll be….. A huge cheer went up right then accompanied by that big goofy John grin. They started chanting more, more, more but I think that was the only song John knew. He came down the stairs to street level and everyone wanted to shake his hand, and he had more friends right then than he knew what to do with. He was soaking it all up though, shaking hands with the men and hugging the ladies. The guys in our booth had their arms extended above their heads and were bowing to him…. (I think they all had too much to drink) letting him know how much they enjoyed it. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him giving autographs to a couple of “over partied” women. People were trying to hand him any number and all different kinds of adult beverages to which he kept declining. I could see that he was being overwhelmed and was looking for a way out so I waded out in the middle of the throng and grabbed his arm and led him back into our booth where he received hugs and high fives from all the workers in our booth that should have been selling t-shirts.  I heard our coach yell for everyone to get back to work and we turned to see people lined up at our booth as far as you could see. They all wanted to buy something and John to sign it. Some wanted to buy only from John and others just wanted to shake his hand.  It was absolutely ridiculous and the thought of these people waking up tomorrow morning wondering who the heck wrote on their t-shirts gave me a couple of chuckles but as much as he was enjoying it, it made it worth it.  We sold completely out of all our products within forty-five minutes.  With nothing to sell we closed the booth, and the crowd finally went back to passing by and John flopped down on the bench looking exhausted.  “Where the heck did you learn how to sing like that Brother John,” I asked.  “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.” Well his eyes narrowed as he growled back at me, “Brother Chris there are a multitude of things you don’t know about me.  I have talents even I don’t know about yet.” With a totally blank look on my face I responded, “I don’t know what to say to that John, but you did good.” In a softer tone he said, “Apparently all those years of my Mom dragging us kids to church and making us sing in the choir paid off.” We all nodded our agreement, and he said, I do believe that I have had about as much fun in one night as a man should be allowed to have.  Take me home Brother Chris.” He shook hands all around and we headed for my truck.  He looked awful tired, and I said, “If you hadn’t had that Margarita or whatever it was that you had would you have had the nerve to get up there and sing?”  “I had been thinking about singing after hearing all the bad singing that was going on and I just felt like it,” he said defensively.  “Yeah right”,  I replied, and he lapsed into silence on the trip to his hotel.  We didn’t speak on the way to his hotel, and I thought he had fallen asleep, but he was just thinking about the next day and his meeting I guess.  I followed him up to his room just to make sure he got there OK, which I thought he would complain about but he didn’t and when he asked me to come in so he could tell me something I didn’t complain either.  He sat down on the edge of the bed, and I took the chair across from him and after a minute or so he looked up and said, “You know, I drive around a lot all over the state and I have a lot of time to think.  I was thinking the other day about the one topic that you see written about more than anything else is “what is Masonry.” Everyone gets all caught up in the definition of Masonry.  It gets confusing reading all the dozens and dozens of different definitions of our Fraternity.  Everyone is writing about what it is and what it’s not and they are all saying pretty much the same dang thing just using different fancy words.  Sometimes I spend fifteen or twenty minutes looking through the dictionary just to get definitions of the words that are used in the definition of Masonry.  It doesn’t take much of that to get a simple country boy confused….  and frustrated.” He paused and let out a big yawn which as hard as I tried I could help doing the same.  “Masonry is not that complicated Brother Chris,” he continued.  “I know what Masonry is and I realize that my definition doesn’t have a lot of fancy smancy words but when you shake off all the hoity- toity-ness, Masonry is just good instead of bad.  It is right instead of wrong, happiness instead of sadness.  It is love instead of hate, and truth instead of lies.  It is light instead of dark.  It is caring instead of indifference and it is order instead of confusion. It is beauty in every way possible and Masonry, like the soul within all of us, will never, never, never die.” He stopped suddenly just staring ahead.  I didn’t know if he was through or not, but I had known him long enough to not assume that he was.  I was thinking so intently about what he had said and realizing what a nice way that was to describe our Gentle Fraternity that I didn’t see him lie back on the bed.  My concentration was broken when he said, “This is what Masonry is to me Brother Chris and knowing that makes me a better man every day.  I want you to know that I decided to become a Mason thirty-five years ago and the day I did, my life changed very much for the good.  I was made a Mason forty-five years ago though.  Think about that…  and thanks for taking me with you tonight.  I had a great time.” I was smiling and nodding until he said he was made a Mason forty-five years ago. Now I was confused… . big time.  “Brother John,” I replied as he laid his head back on the pillow.  “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight too and I …….. John..… John are you asleep??? I stood up to get a better look at his face and sure enough he was out like a light.  I grabbed the other end of the bed spread and threw it over him and before I got to the door he was loudly sawing logs. “Pleasant dreams Brother John” I called out as I slid the door shut.  “Good luck in your meeting tomorrow.” I am not sure, but I still think he sneaked a couple of Margaritas before he decided to become a country singer.  And darn him anyway!  Now I had to figure out what the difference is between being “made” a Mason and “becoming” a Mason.  If y’all figure it out please let me know.