The Pursuit of Happiness

I was a cook at the Catholic Worker House in south Minneapolis once upon a time. A girl named Jill would sometimes stay there when she had to hide out from a bad boyfriend. Jill often kept me company when I cleaned up after Sunday dinner; she’d grab a stool next to the sink and cry about her boyfriends while I scrubbed pots.

Jill and I talked about music too, a subject about which she understood quite a lot. She was a stripper at a joint called Augie’s on Hennepin Avenue and knew every danceable song on Billboard’s Top 100 list, including the lyrics. She invited me to Augie’s one afternoon and I saw her do “Get Down Tonight” by KC and the Sunshine Band. I remember thinking, “My goodness, that girl can dance.”

Jill and I still talk about music. The band Disturbed recently covered Paul Simon’s and Art Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” and vocalist David Draiman’s version is so powerful and gut-wrenching that I had to tell her about it. “Jill,” I wrote, “I never imagined anyone could sing “Sound” better than Simon and Garfunkel. It’s like thinking someone could sculpt a better David than Michelangelo. But Draiman did. He’s so good I have trouble catching my breath when I listen to him.”

“It shouldn’t surprise you that Draiman is good,” Jill wrote back. “He’s a middle-aged guy who’s lived with the song since he was a baby, and he breaks our hearts because his heart is breaking. He sees that people are still talking without speaking, and hearing without listening. Draiman sees us bowing and praying to neon gods of our own making, gods we call politicians who write songs that voices never share because we know the songs are lies. I think Draiman’s figured that out, and that’s why he’s so good.

“But send me a happier song next time, okay? One I can dance to.”

I will. Jill, BTW, is now Mother Philomena. She runs a Catholic women’s shelter these days and listens to lots of stories about bad boyfriends. Everyone there calls her Ma Flip, and she can still dance.