Pieces Of Moe

It was cold outside and the snow fell so heavily that Moe could hear the individual flakes drop as they hit the ground below. He opened the wooden door to the old, familiar corner tavern where he had spent many a night pouring over his thoughts while sipping on a whiskey or beer. Tonight would be no different.

Inside, it was warm. A musty and moist smell hung in the air; musty from all the years of service and moist from the snowy wetness dragged in by tonight’s patrons. The place exuded a worn, but warm and relaxed comfort. Vintage knick knacks decorated the shelves above the bar. An old-fashioned cash register nestled among the backlit liquor bottles completed the look. The place was pretty quiet tonight. Miles Davis was playing softly in the background. A few customers were scattered about. Moe walked to the end of the bar, where he took his usual seat that gave him a good view of the entrance so he could watch people coming and going, which was something he enjoyed.

The bartender walked over, and acknowledged him with a nod. Moe ordered a Guinness. He liked the dark, foamy, richness. It allowed him to think, and that’s what he needed to do tonight. Think. He felt as though he needed to reach some sort of a decision. There was no urgency or real decision to be made, yet he felt as though his life needed to take a more defined direction. He reflected back on some of the significant people and moments in his life to derive some inspiration. He contemplated his love for music and the outdoors. The handful of solid friendships he had developed, and the three women he had loved in his life.

He thought about the time when he had tried to sort it all out by writing a song to symbolize each of those people and special moments shared in an attempt to make them more tangible. He struggled with their elusiveness, and he had the idea that if he could somehow write a song that would capture and represent each person and the truly significant moments in his life, he would be better able to grasp the feelings they stirred in him, to make some sense out of his past and gain direction for the future.

Some of the songs he wrote came out exceptionally well, and he was very pleased. Yet others, no matter how hard he struggled with them, he simply could not get right. He wondered if that was significant in some way, if struggling with a particular song also meant that he had grappled with defining that particular relationship and what the relationship ultimately meant to him. He compiled the songs, all 14 of them, onto one CD. He named the CD "Pieces of Moe" as that’s what he felt it was. All the significant pieces of his life, compiled onto one CD. Moe had no aspirations for fame or fortune with this CD, and he did not try to get it released, even though he was very talented and had a true gift for making music. He simply used the CD to gain some insight into himself to establish a firmer footing for the future. He thought about Pieces of Moe now as he sat at the bar, quietly sipping his Guinness.