The Piano Man

“From a town known

As Oyster Bay, Long Island

Rode a boy with a six-pack in his hand”

Billy Joel was the soundtrack to his childhood. He grew up riding the Long Island Railroad to Manhattan and sleeping on the sidewalk in hopes of scoring tickets he could afford. It was a ritual he performed more times than he could count to hear a celebrity sing about the streets where he was raised.

“But I'm taking a Greyhound

On the Hudson River Line

I'm in a New York state of mind”

Thirty years later, he rides the train to meet his daughter at an Italian restaurant in Manhattan. She spent one of her first paychecks on Billy Joel tickets.

My dad and I share a bottle of red at a table near the street. I mop up the last of my pasta sauce with a piece of focaccia while he pays the bill. After dinner, we make our way to Madison Square Garden for the 100th concert in The Entertainer’s residency. We sing along to “Only the Good Die Young” and “Uptown Girl," songs I learned from the passenger seat of my dad's car. He smiles at my side while Billy Joel sings about his own daughter.

Our seats are in the back row of the arena, behind the stage. All we can see is Billy’s bald head, but my dad doesn’t mind; he reminisces about concerts of years past while The Piano Man plays him a memory.