250 USA #3: Chip

In the early 2000s, I met a woman named Anna at a church in Medford, NJ — through a childhood friend who also knew her. It was a warm connection, though nothing more came of it. She was marrying a man named John. Life moved on, the way it does, and we lost touch. I knew she had a brother. I never met him. I forgot about it entirely.

Fast forward to 2018. I moved to Cherry Hill. My neighbor, Abe, found out I enjoyed running and said, "You need to meet Chip." So I did. We became friends.

Some time later, I posted a photo from a group run — Chip was in it. Anna and I were still Facebook friends, all these years later. She saw the photo and commented: "That's my brother!"

Neither of us knew. Not until that moment.

Chip truly loves people, a connector at heart. He asks the questions — real ones, twenty of them if he has to — because he genuinely wants to know you. He helps people in the community constantly, in ways most people never see or hear about. Right now, he's helping a friend declutter decades of accumulated stuff, just because it needed doing. He's humble. He doesn't seek attention, though he'll accept it when it's earned and real. He's supported my music from the very beginning — and he's told me, bluntly, when a song or melody wasn't working, because he actually cares about the outcome, not just being kind.

He's been here since before there was a 250 USA — through Flashpoint, through the poetry, through becoming a singer-songwriter. He's promoted me, opened doors, and shown up consistently in a genuinely rare way.

Lately, he's been navigating his own season of change. I got to do for him what he's done for me all along — show up.

He told me he loves The Feel Better Song. Coming from someone who's watched the whole journey unfold, that means something different.

Chip is part of the 250 — a real friend, in a real moment, finally on the receiving end of some of the support he's given so freely.

Somewhere in these 250, there's a moment meant for you. This was Chip's moment.