fin.ger [fing-ger] -noun
1. any of the terminal members of the hand, especially one other than the thumb
Thank you dictionary.com, but just for fun, let us include the thumb on this one. For the majority of people, fingers are what allow us to conveniently eat, type, text, work, and participate in our favorite activities and hobbies. But each of the ten digits on the hands of Marcus Jams is more than just an organ of manipulatoin and sensation; they are the perfect vehicle he uses to bridge the connections he makes with each ear that passes.
It's on the sidewalk at the corner of Arlington and First Streets in Reno where Marcus Jams can be found sitting behind one of the many pianos set up in the city for Reno's Art
wn. I'm walking by the river when the keys he plays first creep up and crawl into my ears. I'm not familiar with the carol that is conquering the summer air, but its placidity and beauty is a temptation pulling me for a more upclose listen. As I approach the brightly colored piano, I see a man in a world of his own, striking each white block of basswood for nothing else but passion itself. I don't carry cash with me when I walk around Reno, but I'm able to scrounge around in my bag for an insignificant amount of change to put in his tip jar sitting on top of the piano.The clinging of the alloy coins dropping to the bottom of the jar make an unfriendly collision with
with the sounds being created by this man and instrument, and he stops playing. His storied eyes meet mine as he gives me a thank you, and I ask what song he's playing. It turns out to be a song written by himself. He begins playing again, but this time includes the lyrics to let me inside the song a little deeper. I can't remember the exact title of it, but the lyrics were a stream of poetic words affixed to encourage people to never lose love, hope, and happiness. Once he is finished playing, Marcus tells me that the inspiration for the song came from him being homeless and how he realized he can be without all the materials of the world, but he can never be stripped of love, hope, and happiness.I see his enthusiam for music as we continue our conversation. Talk about Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson, or even Fleetwood Mac and his eyes glow with a friendly fire, and his toothless smile becomes as contagious as any I have ever seen. We take a trip back to a time before I was born, as he remembers when he first learned to play the piano. 30 years ago, he
learned basic songs using a light up Simon-says toy, and from learning the notes of those few melodies, he is able to recognize the keys in every song he now hears, giving him an extended library of numbers to choose from. He claims Michael Jackson to be his favorite to cover, and plays some of his songs from his more recent albums, all the way back to his Jackson 5 years. We discuss music and artists for almost two hours, while taking short breaks for him to play for strolling passersby. I fall in love with how on any other day, these strangers walking by would do anything to avoid eye contact with a homeless man sitting on the corner, but on this day, hearing his music, they notice. They stop to smile, sing along, and they all eagerly toss some money in his jar. All because he is sharing his talent that has been bestowed upon him.When we aren't talking about music, Marcus begins to talk to me about things only known in his head. He tells me about how he has a new type of energy that is almost ready to be introduced to the world once he fixes a few last glitches (such as the energy source evaporating human water, leaving people to die of dehydration). He also goes into telling me in less than a year, our world will be destroyed, and the only people who will survive will be the ones who live in the underground world he knows how to create.
I let this mentally stranged talk go over my head, and focus on the reason that connected me to this man in the first place. He has every reason to live in misery and unhappiness, but that doesn't stop him from sharing his inspiring music and infectious smile with everyone and anyone who is willing to allow it into their day. I shake the aged hand of my new aquaintance and decide to leave after I notice that I've spent over three hours on the corner talking with him. I step out of the shaded comfort provided by the trees and cross the street to continue my day. And I continue that entire day with a new respect of love, hope, and happieness. Thanks Marcus.
