What do you really think about people who live on the streets? Do you think of them at all, or do you simply try to avoid them? Out of sight, out of mind? Are you moved? Angered? Judgmental? Haunted?
Three years ago, I read a book about a young man named Jared, who became addicted to alcohol as a teenager and was unable to find a way to fit into mainstream society. So he hopped freight trains to travel from place to place and lived on the streets, where he was known as "Goblin."
After Jared died of a drug overdose, his grandfather Dave Kindred was compelled to find out what had happened to him and why. Then Dave wrote a book titled "Leave Out the Tragic Parts."
When I finished reading Jared's story, I wondered. I travel a lot. Had I ever seen Jared, standing on a street corner somewhere, begging for help? Lord knows, I had seen many like him. I was ashamed. Then I prayed for forgiveness for all the times I had looked the other way, walked on by, muttered disgust under my breath. And I prayed for the purposeful heart and mind to be better.
Here's the thing. Yes, there are scammers out there on the streets. But not everyone seeking help is running a con job. Most are not. Do we turn our backs on those who need help and justify our actions because we can't tell the difference? I can't do that anymore. It's not my job to judge. It's my responsibility as a human being to help people in need. Maybe that's with money, maybe food, maybe clothing or shelter or a ride ... I don't have all the answers, but that should not keep me from doing what I can do.
As days and weeks passed, Jared's story kept popping into my thoughts. I could feel a song, but every time I tried to write, no words came off the point of my pen. Then, sure enough, one day I was out hiking, no pen and paper, no phone to record on. Just words tumbling through my mind:
"I never met him face to face, but I got to know him well through the pages of his story, which his grandpa had to tell. Friends would call him Goblin; he rode the rails place to place, driven by the demons that were inked upon his face."
I marched up and down the trail, repeating those lines over and over and over until they were embedded in my memory. When I got home, I grabbed a pen, scribbled them on paper, then kept going. I finished, let it sit, came back and edited, let that sit, reworked it, let it sit ...
Finally, I sent the lyrics to Dave and asked for two things. One, I requested his blessing to proceed; if he didn't want the song out there, I would stop immediately. Second, I wanted to make sure I was doing justice to Jared's story. If anything was off, I wanted to fix it. Dave expressed that one part of the song "wasn't quite right." I reworked it and sent it back to him. His reply: "Perfect!"
And so "Goblin" became the last track recorded for my upcoming album.
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