The irony here is that not many ever knew who Jim Sobieski was or what he did with his life.
And that was just fine with him.
The last time I saw Jim Sobieski was in 2013 when he was walking down North Main Street toward Public Square. It was a walk he made every day — back and forth from St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church to the St. Vincent de Paul Kitchen and back to St. Stephen’s.
Every day, Jim would devote his time to helping people — especially the homeless. Jim had been homeless himself for a brief time, but he managed to get himself on track and into permanent housing. His devotion to his brethren was unwavering and genuinely sincere.
But on this day in 2013, I saw Jim stop and put his hand on a rail and pause to catch his breath. I walked to him and asked if everything was OK. Jim just looked at me and, as he always did, smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. How are you, Bill?”
That was Jim Sobieski. Even though he was dealing with something very serious inside him, he would never let anyone know. And he sincerely cared about how you were doing.
Jim died April 3, 2013, at home.
When we talked, Jim would passionately tell stories about the plight of the area’s homeless. Jim knew all of them — those who were truly down on their luck and who deserved help — and he knew the ones who lacked the initiative to help themselves even though they could.
Jim pulled no punches.
But he cared.
He would reveal locations the homeless were using for shelter because he knew of the dangers. He didn’t want to see anyone die unnecessarily.
Jim and his efforts went virtually unnoticed, if not unappreciated. Except for those who knew him and witnessed his actions.
Jim deserved accolades too — he was a genuine philanthropist, giving far more than he could afford and doing so without the slightest expectation of reward or honor.
Jim scrubbed the pots at the soup kitchen because he wanted to make sure they were clean before used again. He talked to people, counseled them in his own special way, to try to give them not just the glimmer of hope, but to make them feel that somebody truly cared about them.
Not many people knew much about Jim, and that was fine with him. He kept his secrets secret. He didn’t want anybody to feel sorry for him. He was a proud man, and well he should have been.
Homeless people walk among us every day. They walk around anonymous and unknown, except to people like Jim.
Every year, Volunteers of America of Pennsylvania hosts the annual Homeless Persons’ Memorial.
As always, this special event is held on the longest night of the year to observe National Homeless Persons’ Memorial Day and honor members of our local homeless community whom we have lost over the years.
Some alarming statistics:
• According to the National Institute of Health (NIH), the average life expectancy of a person experiencing homelessness is about two decades less than the general population.
• Current NIH research also sites homelessness as a public health concern. According to the CDC, homelessness is associated with greater risks of infectious and chronic illness, chronic medical conditions, co-occurring mental health and substance use issues and victimization.
• There are over 500,000 people experiencing homelessness on a given night in the US, according to the Department of Housing and Urban Development.
I remember Jim telling me about his work at the kitchen. Jim told me he scrubbed those pots and pans at the kitchen and he helped with serving and cleaning up, but scrubbing those pots and pans was at the top of his agenda every day.
What Jim Sobieski couldn’t give from his pocketbook, he gave from his heart.
Jim was virtually anonymous in the community, yet he had an incredible and immeasurable positive impact on many.
As you walk along Public Square, South Main Street or near the Susquehanna River, you can see the homeless. Some of them live in makeshift tents, while others seek shelter in abandoned buildings.
Many homeless drink too much. Many do drugs. Many have no motivation to better themselves.
They need help. They need a community to care enough to do all it can to help them — to show it sincerely cares.
The homeless who have passed have certainly been forgotten by most of the greater Wyoming Valley community.
The sad reality is they were forgotten long before they passed away.
And that is our biggest failure of all.