Receiving an unexpected nuzzle on my first day in Ireland...

11/26/25

Hello Friends,

I wanted to write to wish you all a great Thanksgiving!
Thanksgiving remains my favorite holiday! The shape of the day has changed a lot for me as the raucous extended family gatherings I -- and my children -- grew up have given way to smaller but no less joyful gatherings. Of course, as you get older, these occasions bring memories of loved ones we've lost over the years, but even these can have a sweetness when shared with those you hold dear. And that affection isn't only derived from DNA. I've been lucky to have two kinds of family in this life. The big one I was born into and the even larger one that one that has grown out of my work.

Clearly, gratitude should not be a once-a-year thing. As monk and inter-faith scholar David Steindl-Rast reminds us, happiness is born of gratitude, not the other way around. I mean think about it. Some of the people who seem to have the most in our world now are the most angry and aggrieved. For many years now my work, both in music, and with incarcerated and returning citizens, has convinced me that the opposite is often just as true. People with very little seem to somehow find the ability to smile and remain hopeful and kind.

There are so many who are struggling right now. And the opportunity to know and to walk with some of them on a regular basis not only reminds me of my lifetime of unmerited good fortune, but also exposes me on a to true and genuine gratefulness.

A recent visit with one of my guys comes to mind. This is something I posted on social media, but in case you missed it...
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It broke my heart to hear he was living in a tent on the outskirts of town. He was always such a positive, upbeat presence in our prison groups, honest but genuinely optimistic about life. His smile always lifted my spirits.

It was much the same when he came home. He attended our weekly meetings for returning citizens regularly for a couple months. He had a good job, and a bright future.

Then something began to change. He began to miss meetings. The voicemail option on his phone had never been set up and he didn't respond to emails. We lost track of him. This was a year or so before the pandemic.

Anyway, hearing that he was homeless (or unhoused or whatever phrase people who use words as virtue signaling shibboleths have settled on this week), I asked for his location so I could go see him. The mutual friend who had discovered his whereabouts told me that the information was not his to share. 'He's real proud', my friend -- another formerly incarcerated member of our NBNS family -- said, 'I'm not sure he'll want you to see him like this'.

There it is, I thought; that's what makes New Beginnings-Next Step so unique. The default position that always begins with the dignity of the person in question. My friend said he'd ask the homeless man if it was okay to let me know where he was staying.

When I received permission and a location via text message, I thought long and hard about what to bring to the woods. Some kind of care package perhaps? I ultimately decided against this approach. I didn't want him to see me attempting a good deed or doling out charity. I grabbed an NB-NS hoodie and a couple gift cards for the local Shop Rite, which was within walking distance of the tent's location.

He was busy when I arrived. It was cold and windy, and he greeted me with a bear hug. We were both wearing sunglasses which - at least for me - hid some emotion.

He had two tents in a prime spot by the river and was in the process of putting up a third ('for all my extra stuff', he said). There were maybe twenty other tents in the field next to his. Though his tents were somewhat ramshackle, I noted that they were heavily draped with tarps and plastic. Each was up on a small platform consisting of large heavy-duty plastic soft drink carriers with large sheets of plywood on top for flooring. Over that were layers of fabric for insulation. I commented on these and he said, 'Oh, John, you definitively don't want to sleep on that cold wet ground.'

He was glad for the hot coffee I'd brought and eagerly went about trying to clear a place for me to sit, spreading one of his coats over a dirty wet chair. The coat wasn't much more appealing, nor did I want to deprive him of an extra layer of warmth, and I walked around to the side of the tent where we stood and talked out of the wind.

I'd known enough to bring extra sugar packets as well as more cream than Duncan Donuts would have been comfortable providing. He immediately dumped most of the sugar - as well as all the artificial sweetener I'd brought - into his cup. He emptied two creams in, stirred the cup with a plastic drinking straw I'd brought along, and then said 'I'm gonna save these extra milks for later. They'll keep in this cold.' The small box of Dunkin Munchkins I'd brought was also taken into the tent 'for later'.

'What's going on, brother', I asked. 'It's been a long time'. 'Yeah, man', he said, 'It sure has'. Then he began to tell me what had happened to him. At least the short version of events.

The job had been going great. Then, back in 2019, he'd passed out at work one day. The EMTs took him to the hospital where he was diagnosed with serious hypertension and heart disease. Afterwards he could not get clearance to work anymore. His medical leave ran out and he lost his job. 'Well,' he said, stretching out his arms wide and smiling, 'here's where I ended up'.

'It's called urban camping', he said, forcing that trademark smile. 'Why didn't they call it that sooner. The idea of being homeless always scared me to death. Urban camping's not so bad though. I can DO this.'

We filled the next few minutes with small talk. Just two guys catching up. Talked about kids, I told him about my grandkids and the joy in my voice as I talked about being a grandpop seemed to make him visibly happy.

I handed him the hoodie with our NB-NS logo embroidered on the front. I told him I'd been saving it for the day he started coming back to meetings, and that I hoped it would remind him that there are people who love him. His fingers reached up beneath his mirrored wrap arounds as he said, ''Damn, John, don't you make me start again''.

The wind was picking up, and the temperature was dropping quickly. It was to be the first really cold night of the season. Tarps were flapping around us as he said, 'Man, I better get my stuff collected before it all blows away. You can't leave nothing lying out around here.'

Taking the hint I reached out and slid I bill I had palmed into his gloveless hand. 'This isn't from me', I said, 'It's from one of our guys. He moved away after prison but the last time he was home he gave me fifty bucks to pass on to one of our members who could use it.'

We have a rule in NB-NS that we don't give out cash when there's any suspicion that it may go towards drugs. Something in my heart commanded me to ignore it. 'This will help', he said, bending over to pick up a small camp stove that sat in front of the main tent. 'I'm out of propane. Now I'll be able to cook again.'

I pressed another couple Shop Rite gift cards into his hand for which he thanked me. 'Don't forget' I said, 'reach out if you need us'. This time he took off the shades. I saw the emotion, as well as something more worrisome in his eyes.

We hugged again and I turned towards the car. I looked back once. He was talking to somebody. I turned over in my mind some of the things that conversation might be about.
Maybe it was a mistake giving him the money. But I don't think so. Maybe he got high last night. Maybe he got drunk. (I can't say that I wouldn't have.) Maybe he got propane! But no matter what he did, some part of him knew that somewhere some people knew and loved him. And when the glow from the propane (or whatever) has burned away, maybe that memory will remain. Maybe that's the best we can do right now.

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As we gather this Thanksgiving lets remember to be thankful for all we too often take for granted. And to take time to remember all those who are really struggling right now.

I'll be playing the Lansdowne Folk Club in Lansdowne, Pennsylvania on Thursday, December 4th. (https://folkclub.org) I sure hope to see some of my Philly area and Delco friends!

Peace and good on you!

 

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