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This column is part of a series of occasional columns regarding mental health in Minnesota, chronicling ongoing struggles, emerging progress and voices of hope.
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Over the past few months, I’ve been exploring problems associated with mental health care in Minnesota. They are numerous, from a shortage of providers to a glut of desperate people stuck in emergency rooms and jails. But there’s something in the story that’s missing, perhaps the most important thing of all: hope.
In my many conversations, I’ve met people who faced the worst mental illness has to offer and came out OK. These are tales of recovery, but also of the need for vigilance. For people experiencing mental illness, treatment is not about a cure, but effective management of life as it is. Whether through medicine, therapy or other support, people experiencing an intolerable crisis can find a way back. They must only take a step toward those who want to help them.
One inspiring story stands out. Years ago, just a few miles through the Itasca County woods where we both live, I met a great musician and a kindred spirit in the study of Iron Range history. At first, I knew nothing about his private battle with mental illness.
As a kid in the 1990s and early 2000s, Sam Miltich became a self-taught jazz guitar phenomenon. Born into a family of northern Minnesota musicians, he was doing international tours with hot club jazz bands when most of his peers were rustling up quarters for dormitory washing machines.