Jim Sorer was born sometime in the 1940s. He has”around” ten children, has had too many jobs to count, too many marriages to talk about,  and has loved music ever since he could walk.

The one thing he knows and has always known is how much he loves Hank Williams.

If there is one constant in his turbulent life, it was his acoustic guitar.

In his very difficult lifetime, Jim and his band played in bars, restaurants, and gatherings all over the vast deep country of New York State.

Last year, after he and his family decided he needed more care than they could give him, he agreed to move into the Mansion. The staff says he is content there but never joins in group activities or socializes much.

He says he is in transition. He’s ready to rejoin the world.

I think he’s ready to come out. We sure had plenty of laughs when we met today in the Mansion dining room.

A cousin gave him a broken guitar when he was very young, and he figured out to repair and play it.

Until he got to the Mansion, he had played a guitar/and or a harmonica just about every day of his life, most often in a band.

He misses his guitar.

Jim has been a Mansion resident for just less than a year, and the pandemic kept two of us from meeting.  That’s going to change.  He is a character, lots of fun.

Jim has a rascal’s demeanor, his face seems to always be on the verge of smiling, and he dresses himself up in interesting colors, mostly with a scarf or other bit of flair.

He is, of course, of Irish descent. Jim is sharp and funny, he also uses a walker to move around the Mansion.

I asked him if he was still married, and he laughed and shook his head. “I made a lot of mistakes in life,” he said and would say no more. Then he thought about it. “I have ten kids that I know of,” he added, smiling.

I have to say I fell in love with Jim the second he began talking. In addition to being a musician, he was an auctioneer, a farmer, and a day laborer.  Zinnia and I are going to spend some time with him tomorrow.

He enjoyed raising pigs for a while, but the music was what he loved the most, and was a continuous thread in a sometimes disconnected life.

“But you got to keep trying,” he said, “no matter what happens, do what you care to do and keep doing it.”

When he moved into the Mansion, he lost his harmonica, and his acoustic guitar was broken; he gave it to his son (one of them) to store.

He loves Hank Williams more than anything and can sing back almost any central Hank Williams hit. There were many. Jim has not lost his voice or his memory.

 

I didn’t know much about Jim until today when I learned that some Mansion aides were talking about him – one remembered seeing him play his guitar some years ago with his band – and he spoke about how much he missed playing his acoustic guitar and his harmonica.

One had the idea to call me, “Jon will get him a guitar.” This is true.

Jim had a difficult childhood. His father, he said, was a good man who was driven to evil by a childhood injury. When he was a toddler, his grandmother dropped onto his head and went scissors into his brain.

She wrestled it out of his head and got him to the hospital.

He made a partial recovery, Jim said, but whenever he smelled glue or a dozen other familiar smells, “he went crazy with rage” and would throw Jim and his sister or brother of the car if they were traveling.

“My mother was good, he said, ” and she was tough. She would fight to keep him and the other children from being thrown out of the car if she was there.

“She told my father that it wasn’t right to throw the children out of the car,” he said.

If she weren’t there, his father would drive the car fast and up on two wheels and throw everyone inside out the window.

“He couldn’t help it,” Jim is quick to add graciously.

He would love to play for the Mansion residents, and they would love to hear him sing. And he would clearly love to play again. If other residents wanted to play music, he suggested, maybe they could start a Mansion band.

If you wish to help me get Jim an acoustic guitar and a harmonic, you can contribute in any amount via Paypal, [email protected], or Venmo, [email protected]. You can also send a check to Jon Katz, Guitar Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. And thank you. If there is any overage, I’ll put it into the Mansion Fund. Believe me, we can use it.

Tania Woodward texted me this morning as soon as she heard about Jim’s desire to play again: “I have a serious request. I just learned about a resident who was a musician, and I believe we need to search for an acoustic guitar so he can play again.” A few minutes later, she texted, telling me he also loves the harmonica.

I’m on the way over, I said, make sure he’s okay being photographed and interviewed. No problem, she said.

I pulled into the Mansion driveway four minutes later. “What took you so long?” said Tania.

I’m committed to getting Jim both a guitar and a harmonica. This is right in the wheelhouse of the Army of Good, a classic small act of great kindness.  I showed him several guitars, and we picked out the one he liked the best Amazon.

The guitar he chose was a  new Yamaha that cost under $200. The harmonica he liked cost $12.99, and the Hole Harmonica holder (the one Bob Dylan used) cost $13.00.

The total package is around $200-$300. I might end up getting him a better guitar, depending on what I hear about the Yamaha, and also some stings and pics and sheet music.

(I’m checking with a musician friend to make sure the Yamaha is an excellent acoustic guitar.)

I welcome some help helping Jim. If you wish, please feel free to contribute to the purchase of an acoustic guitar and harmonica for Jim: Via Paypal, [email protected], Via Venmo, [email protected]. Or by check, Jon Katz, Guitar Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. Any overage will go into the Mansion Fund. We can use it, believe me.

Jim and I went through some of Hank Williams’s most famous songs, and he knew or could sing every one of them.

He ran through Williams biography off the top of his head and shocked the Mansion dining room by belting out a few of his most famous songs.

Williams is considered one of the most popular country music singer/songwriters  in history with songs like “Cold, Cold Heart,” “Your Cheatin’ Heart,” “Hey, Good Lookin.'”

He also wrote and sang one of Jim’s favorites, “I’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive.” He died of a heart attack at the age of 29 in 1953 while riding in the backseat of his Cadillac on the way to the Grand Ol’ Opry.

Jim is a charmer and a storyteller, and I think this would be great for him. He says he has a daughter who calls him every single day and keeps watch over him.

“I don’t know why it is that I’m still alive,” Jim told me as we shook hands and I got up to leave, “except to play music.”