Thanks Joe

Joe Bridges has died. He was an important character in my life and my career would never have achieved the things it did without him. I owe him a lot. A chain smoking, coffee drinking alcoholic, he could build or fix anything. As loyal a friend as I have ever had, we would spend hours sitting lone talking about how to get things done.  A resident of Potter's Place, a twelve bed rooming house for people in recovery, he was one of the first people I met when I returned to Savannah. Potter's was the one program Union Mission had then. Along with Roger Pack, Robert Watkins, Joe rounded out the core support system that made the place so successful.  At a book signing, I looked up and found Joe standing with a copy for me to sign. "Lookie here," he said followed by a loud sniff of his nose, "I keep up." and even though it had been a couple of years since he had moved from Potters, he proceeded to recount everything I'd done of that time. From 1987 through 1990' we'd opened four new housing programs for the city's homeless. Grace House, the Magdalene Project, Phoenix Place And The Hacienda.   Joe showed up at my office when the last one opened. "Lookie here," he explained followed with the loud nose sniff, "You need a maintenance man." "I can't afford one," I told him. "You can with all of the money I'm going to save you," he shot back. And he did. For the next decade Joe took care of everything. His house also became an overflow shelter for alcoholics when the shelters were full. He was the banker for addicts who needed to quit shaking, the counselor for them when they did, and their sponsor in AA meetings. He allowed the children of active addicts to move into his house and served as their father until they could be reunited.  He oversaw the expansion of Phoenix Place, the building of the Daniel-Flag Villas, and the construction of the J.C. Lewis Health Center.  Then he got into high speed Go Kart racing. I was in Florida when I heard that Joe had crashed into a wall at 60 mile per hour. I rushed back to Savannah to check on him and it was not good. Eventually he lost his leg. For a while I didn't think it would matter. One morning I looked up from my stool at "The Breakfast Club" to see him climbing off his motorcycle and hobbling in to have coffee with me. But then he slowly started losing his health. I visited him and did my best to talk him into coming back to work. We'd find a way to make it work. But his mind moved on to other things. He moved into a tiny trailer outside of Midway and our conversations were reduced to occasional phone calls. He didn't like that we'd sold Potters Place or was building Dutchtown on the south side. He thought that I spent too much time in other cities expanding the work. The last time I saw him he came to me. Hobbling in my office, he viewed it with disdain. I was no longer located in Grace house but in a larger more expansive and plush setting. "Are you a freaking banker nowadays." We talked about the old days and caught each other up on our kids. He asked me if I ever saw Roger or Robert. He hobbled out to a van that he drove and said with a sniff, "It sure as hell ain't what it used to be." And it sure as hell ain't.  Life is a gift that each of us share but none of us asked for. If we're lucky we get to share it with others. I was fortunate to have had so much of Joe in mine. So were thousands of others. It is amazing to see the difference that someone can make when they want to. Joe Bridges did as much for hurting, hungry and lost people as anybody I've ever met. He did it from the "Been there and done that" perspective. He believed that smaller is more beautiful than big. He taught me a lot about how to  appreciate everything that I've got. He reminded me that if he could survive hell then I could too. So Joe, Lookie here ... Sniff ... I love you man.