Listen to this.

It's been six months since I stopped drinking.  Made it through the whole summer, which is the hardest time of the year for people like me.  Except for maybe winter.

School's in full swing now. My son is a freshman this year and he got a part in the fall musical, which is usually only for upperclassmen.  My daughter is a senior and she got to sing the National Anthem at the home football game last Friday night. She was practicing all week, in her room, in the shower, in her car.  God I hate that song.

When you stop giving in to an addiction the biggest change is how much you re-engage with real people again.  When you stop hiding out, alone with your self-loathing, careful not to get caught, you get back to having a personality again.  You're not afraid. You take chances.

Things start to happen.

There's a soup kitchen near where I work and if I take a walk at lunch I pass by it on my way to Powell's bookstore.  At lunchtime there's always a big line of homeless people, mostly men, waiting for the proverbial free lunch. Maybe thirty people, sitting, standing, smoking, looking hopeless or impatient or scary, sometimes all at once.

As I walk past the end of the line I see a group of three ex-con-looking guys with tattoos. One guy catches my eye, takes a smoke and growls, How 'bout you gimme some change buddy? and blows smoke at me.

I keep walking and say, I don't think so.

He says, Thanks shithead. His buddies laugh.

Normally I'd just keep walking. The old normal, I mean. Before I cleaned up. I grew up in a fairly rough part of Detroit so in my youth I was a lot more mouthy in these situations.  I guess I've mellowed since then but I still knew the drill. You can take the boy out of Detroit…

I stop and turn back.

What did you say?

His friends stop laughing but this guy just looks me over real slow and says,

Nothin'.

Because I thought you just told me to give you money and then called me a shithead.

His friend takes a step towards me and says, Hey fuck you, asshole.

The guy doesn't flinch and says, You look like you doin' alright, man, and we got nothin'. I'm just askin' for spare change, you know? No big deal, so you can just go back to your little cubicle or whatever.

I should leave but the 'cubicle' reference pisses me off. It is sort of little.

I say, I work all day for my money, dude. Why should I give you some?

The two friends go, Duuuude.

The guy says, Hey, we work. We workin' the streets, you know? His buddies laugh. We workin' you, dude. Why don't you just give me five bucks. You can spare five bucks, right?  Man like you?

Yeah, I got five bucks. I pull a five out of my pocket. But what would you do for it?

His friend gets closer and says, Hey man, he don't do that kind of faggot shit. You sayin' my friend here's a faggot?

I'm not talkin' about faggot shit. I'm talking about working. I hold up the five. You do something for me, I PAY you five bucks. I don't GIVE you five bucks. That's how it works.

Now pretty much the whole line is looking my way, wondering where this is going.  I'm kind of wondering that myself.

This guy knows he's got an audience too. He backs off.

Hey I'd love to man, but I gotta catch lunch, you know? Around here, they don't wait.

His friends laugh and knock fists. The front door to the kitchen opens up and people turn to face front again. Lunch is served.

I think about it for a second. I hold up my five again.

I'll pay you five bucks to sing the Star-Spangled Banner.

The back half of the line turns to look again.

The guy says, Fuck you, man.

A short fat woman with a limp breaks line.

I'll sing it.

He holds out his arm to block her and says, Back off, Theresa. And then to me, You'll give me five bucks to sing the Star-Spangled Banner.

Hey, it's not an easy song. It's worth five bucks. You know all the words?

Theresa says, I know the words.

The guy says, Yeah, I know all the fuckin' words. It's just a stupid fuckin' idea. You tryin' to make me look stupid, man?

Hey, it's a great song, I lie. It's the National Anthem. And not everybody can sing it. If you can do it, I'll pay you five bucks.

The door is open but most of the people in line aren't going in. They're watching the guy. A man and a woman waiting to cross at the light have a green light, but they're not moving either. Another guy who passed by stops at a safe distance and turns back to watch.

The guy takes a slow drag on his cigarette and then turns to his buddies. You believe this motherfucker?

The one friend says, Do it Jimmy. It's five bucks.  The other one says Yeah, man, do it.

Just then a cop car pulls around the corner and stops at the sight of this face-off at the soup kitchen, the long line not moving. Two cops get out. Some in the line move toward the door, but most stay.

The first cop, a big blond-haired kid, asks what's going on.

I explain the pending transaction.

The other cop, shorter and heavy, laughs out loud. He seems to know the guy.

Well, go ahead, Jimmy, he says, laughing. Jimmy looks around, up at the cops, back at me.

Suddenly these aren't just scenery people any more. They're not just pictures in my head.

Ten bucks, he says to me. The crowd gasps. The blond cop snorts. This guy's got balls.

I reach in my wallet and pull out another five.

Five just to sing it. Five more if you get all the words right.

Nobody's moving. Two of the kitchen helpers appear at the kitchen door, watching.

Jimmy hands his cigarette to his friend to hold.  Then he starts, real quiet.

O-oh say… and breaks off right away, shaking his head, clearing his throat.  Somebody titters.

He starts again.

O-oh say can you see….

He cracks on see and stops, then slowly starts again, lower this time. Smart guy. He doesn't sound bad in this key.

He gets to last gleaming and hesitates.  He's slow through this part but remembers it's BROAD stripes and BRIGHT stars.

He even gets perilous fight correct. Most people sing perilous night. 

He sings on the ramparts instead of o'er, but I let it go.

He gets to were so….

Then he stops.

were so….

Somebody in the crowd groans. Somebody else whispers, I told you, man.

He looks at his buddies, like he's going to hit one of them or cry or both. One mumbles the line before, hoping to get a running start and remember the words. The other one joins in.

…on the ramberts we watched, were so…were so…SHIT!

I'm starting to feel bad about this.

Then I hear, …were so gallantly streaming.

It's the short heavy cop, singing loud and in a surprisingly good baritone voice.

Jimmy smiles and nods his head and sings it again - on the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming!

The rockets red glare goes very well after that and I get the feeling Jimmy's home free now.  He knows it too. I guess I'm out ten bucks.

But then something else happens.

When he gets to …flag was still there, he slows down. Like he's heading for the big finish or something, like at a game. He's really getting into it, right there on the street, right out in front of everybody.

When he opens his mouth for that last Oh say…, I hear three other voices with him.  The heavy cop is one of them.  And one of his buddies. And Theresa.

On banner yet wave there are eight voices.

And then literally everybody else on that corner, the cops, the homeless people, and everybody looking on, including me, is singing out at the top of their voices, O'er the land of the free. We all hold it out a long time. I even hear a few people reach for the high note.

AND THE HOME… OF THE… BRAVE.

And then everybody breaks into applause and shouts and whistles. Just like a Friday night, except without the beer.

Jimmy's friends clap him on the back. The cops clap him on the back. He looks up to see the kitchen help smiling and clapping, and at the business people in their dark suits and hard shoes applauding.

He looks up at me.

I give him the two fives. Then I take out my last ten from my wallet and give him that too.

Good job, I tell him.

He takes it and nods once, shoves it in his pocket.  They all start moving into the kitchen for lunch. The business people cross the street. The cops get back in their patrol car and drive off.

I turn to walk to the bookstore, not knowing exactly what just happened, but knowing it wouldn't have happened six months ago.

Hey!

I look back and there's Theresa at the door.

What I get for 'America the Beautiful?.