Good To Do HERE

Just prior to a show in St. Paul, Minnesota at Ginkgo’s coffeehouse, I was setting up the merch table when I over heard an older couple talking about a transsexual strip club downtown, which uses antique medical equipment for décor. “Wow,” I said, “you guys seem like interesting people to know. My name is Seth.” They introduced themselves as Gerri and Jim and they come to Ginkgo’s every week to enjoy live music without the bar atmosphere or smell of booze. It was easy to see that these 50 somethings each offered one another a quite compassion that could only be felt in the lonely light of a coffee shop.

I talked to Jim for about 50 minutes prior to the show and began to know his story fairly well. He was born on a corn farm in Wisconsin and recalls a time when he would travel from business conference to business conference, as an executive, staying in the best hotels and finest cities. Now, he is a 300 + lbs man with a bad back, bad liver, bad eyes, had a heart attack, has diabetes, and bad feet from his diabetes. Jim now lives in a community development housing project across the street from Ginkgo’s. When I asked him how he likes living in Minnesota he replied, “there is good to do here.”

A recovering alcoholic/addict, his family, body, and heath were all taken along with his Range Rover and home when his financial stability crashed with the economy several years ago. Nonetheless, Jim is a hopeful individual and committed to waking up every morning, staying sober, and doing good for others. There isn’t a wince of bitterness in his words and I couldn’t help but question his happiness; I mean the man has nothing but maybe “nothing” also means he has nothing to hide behind. “Doing good does not always mean doing major things,” he said in his thick Minnesota accent.

He reminded me that I have a noble job, to take my songs, stories, thoughts, and ideas and use them to do good. “To incite and inspire is what we must do to heal this world,” he said.

After the show, we shook hands and I began to pack up my gear. I watched Jim walk across the street towards his section 8 apartment and pause to look down at a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk in front of his door. What I saw next was by far the closest thing to an Angel in action that I’ve ever seen before. Jim brought the man inside his apartment, and through his silhouette from the streetlight, I watched him set linens on his couch for the man to sleep sheltered from the northern cold.

“Wow,” I said to myself, humbled and inspired. I left St. Paul with a new mantra.

Whether it’s a coffeehouse or a cathedral, a theater or a club…whether it’s 15 people or 15,000 people, THERE IS GOOD TO DO HERE.