Remembering Jimmy

Earlier this week I learned that Jimmy died.

I heard of his death the way I usually hear of such things on thestreet---through word of mouth. No obituary, no viewing, and I still don't know the exact circumstances, when or where or how Jimmy died. There is part of me that doesn't even quite believe he died, almost like on a soap opera when someone either fakes their death or when there is no body and they miraculously show up years later. I even sent Jimmy an email after I had heard that he died, hoping the information was incorrect. And for those who don't know, many folks on the street do have email addresses using the computers in the public library.

I looked up some of the last emails Jimmy sent me. It was in September around the time of my installation. Jimmy had gotten a job for that afternoon playing piano at a chuch and he wasn't sure he would make it over to the park in time for my installation. He missed it, but he came to visit me at The Welcome Center excited that his disability insurance had come through. He also said that he would like to play for our Tuesday Church services as part of his "tithe", refusing to accept the stipend I offered.

But let me tell you about Jimmy and how we met.

Jimmy showed up at The Welcome Center one day, nearly three years ago when he was pretty down on his luck. Our sexton, at that time, invited Jimmy to come inside and have some lunch. Jimmy said that what he really wanted was to play the piano. Jason brought Jimmy into the chapel where we had a keyboard and Jimmy sat down and played. He was amazing. Soon a small crowd of us gathered around and Jimmy began to sing. He sang, "Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior." This man who had been passed by on the street so many times, sang "Pass Me Not," and we were mesmerized. His voice brought us to another place, a place of peace and beauty, but also to a place of one who knew the deepest suffering. Peace and suffering, both at the same time.

Jimmy continued to visit us and to play and sing whenever he could. The playing and singing brought him healing, but for the rest of us it was pure gift.

Jimmy gave me many gifts, including a string of antique pearls he found and was given while cleaning someone's basement. The pearls were in a pink box from The Blum Store, an old Philadelphia store that no longer existed. They are the kind of pearls that are individually knotted, so if one breaks all the others won't fall apart.

It was the first time a parishioner had given me pearls; but in The Welcome Church, people offer what they have, and this time it was pearls.

Jimmy gave me many gifts, and I want to say thank you....

For bringing me the gospel music that I had missed so much from St. Michael's, my former congregation.

For teaching us a Welcome Church favorite, "There is None Like You."

For starting Tuesday Church with me and allowing me to believe that we could form a choir.

For calling me "sis" which for Jimmy meant I was part of his family, maybe a kind of nun, and someone to whom he often confided.

For being part of my life and our life together in both The Welcome Center and The Welcome Church in so many ways.

Rest in peace, Jimmy, in the arms of the One who passes no one by.