VIRB

In a crisp October week of 2006, I found myself traveling 3 hours to record an album with a new band. I had been playing guitar in the band for about 3 months. After quickly learning the songs and playing a few shows, I found myself on a trip to record a full-length album at Maxwell Studios in Athens, Ga.

Earlier that year I shipped all of my guitar equipment (Marshall stack, guitars, pedals, pedalboards, heads) from Washington state, my hometown, down to Tennessee. I had high hopes of playing in a new band and doing something positive. I felt good about things. After a stagnant hiatus of being weary of bands and the music scene, I dove head first into my new band.

After a long and strenuous process of recording all day-and-night for 16 hours a day, we finally finished. We had created a 10 track album. It felt good.

During this time, while still in school, I would drive from Athens back up to Tennessee, to take final exams, and then back down to finish recording. We only had a weeks worth of studio time and sometimes it felt like I spent more time in the car driving than playing my guitar.

The recording was done, and as a celebration, a few of my friends came down to hang out and listen to the record. We headed out into the Athens nightlife. That college town is hopping everywhere downtown. I came outside of a bar to talk with one of my friends, Tim Hays. We were talking about life and the recent news when a man approached us. I'll never forget him...

"Hey, got a cigarette?" he said to us.
"Sure thing," we replied.

I studied his appearance and it was evident that he was homeless. An older man with white hair and a grizzly beard, he held a small frame. He wore an American flag hat and smiled and talked to anyone.

"Where are you from man?" I asked.

"Right here, I've been all over, but I am from right here." he replied.

My friend Tim and I continued to spend the next 3 hours with our new friend, James. We walked up and down the city streets. Bars and restaurants refused to let him enter. They told him he wasn't allowed because of how he looked. They refused our service. We asked him hat he wanted to do, and he told us he was hungry. We later found out he hadn't eaten for days.

We took him to a late night dinner in downtown. I forget the name of the place, but they make the BEST cheese fries I have ever had. I ordered him two meals. One meal to eat while we talked about Athens, God, and his life; and the other for him to take back to his tent underneath the bridge on the outskirts of town.

"God bless you guys," was all he could say while he devoured his biscuits and gravy.

He believed in God. He was happy. He was happy to talk to us. He told us stories about how he met R.E.M. in the 80's and how he installed hardwood floors in Kenny Logins home. He talked about his son who doesn't have anything to do with him and his ex-wife who lives on the other side of town. We just sat and listened.

For the rest of the people I knew in Athens, it was just another night-on-the-town. But for Tim and myself, it was a chance to bless someone else, show some love to a person in need, and listen to someone who needed to talk. The night ended with a hug and us giving him our number.

I am still hoping to hear from him. If he is hungry, I would feed him again.