The melody is catchy. The lyrics...well, they are more serious. For Joe Peabody, a 57-year old self-taught musician and the son of a radio announcer, music was the conversation of his life. He started playing guitar at the age of seven and by his mid-teens, he had formed the 9th Street Underpass, a band that played gigs wherever they could. In those years, people danced to his music. Now when he sings, you are compelled to just listen.

Joe has colon cancer. The disease and a social worker at a local shelter, brought him to Hospice of the Red River Valley. He knew he was terminally ill and needed help. At first he just agreed to check it out. Now, he is seen regularly by Hospice staff who visit him in his third floor apartment in a historic section of downtown Fargo.

On this particular day, Joe greets his Hospice caregivers in his classic black shirt and jeans. His long silver hair is reminiscent of the 9th Street Underpass era, and his modest surroundings mimic the simple words of the songs he writes and sings. In the corner are two guitars showcased like trophies. "I bought those this past July when I got my social security check," he states. He proudly shares a picture of his band and it’s hard not to notice that one member has his back to the camera. "I was grounded the day of the photo shoot so a buddy of mine stood in for me." One has to imagine they were a group to be reckoned with.

Carolyn, his hospice nurse, listens carefully to his breathing, touches him ever so gently and in leaving says, "Joe, you be sure to call us if you need anything." Joe nods. "I’m so grateful for them. I know someone is there. That’s real comforting."

At Joe’s encouragement, Tom, the hospice chaplain picks up one of two guitars and begins to strum. Joe lights up a cigarette and, with Tom’s music in the background, he begins a sing-songy rendition of an old tune:

A soft, rather impish grin follows.

"Tom’s my brother in the Lord. We’ve got a spiritual connection," he says. "We have some good discussions, don’t we Joe?" Tom replies.

Tom’s playing is an invitation to Joe to pick up the other guitar. He hasn’t lost his touch and his voice, although probably much softer now than in the 60’s, is still music to the ears. He sings several verses of This One’s for You, a Joe Peabody original.

Joe doesn’t get out much anymore. He feels more comfortable at home. And he doesn’t look too far ahead, "just one day at a time." Although he doesn’t want to be a bother to anyone, he is quick to show concern for his fellow apartment dwellers. "They’re good people," he says.

Joe says he feels so taken care of now and while he may be grateful to his hospice caregivers, they feel fortunate to have him a part of their lives as well. To a man who has touched others through his songs, we say, "This one’s for you."