|
A Light in the Tunnel
Portrait of a Subway Swami
By Scott Kalechstein The first time I met Richard, commonly
known as the ‘D’ Train Poet, I was riding a Manhattan
subway. I noticed him right away. Big, black, and beautiful, he
was busy breaking the unwritten but widely adhered to laws of
the city’s underground: Mind your own business. Bury your face
in a newspaper. And, above all, don’t talk to strangers. He
approached me with a twinkle in his eye and an irresistible
question: “Would you like to see a picture of the next savior
of humanity?”
I had no idea what he was up to, but
immediately I trusted the playful warmth he was radiating.
“I’d love to!” I said with a smile. He took out a
mirror and held it up to my face. “Surprise, you’re it!”
"Not it!" I was twenty years old,
out on my own for the first time and struggling to make ends
meet, hoping to find a little self-esteem in the process. I was
hawking laundry bags on the streets to pay the rent. I felt
light years away from being a savior.
Every few months I would run into Richard
here and there. For a while I kept my distance. His courageous
self-expression held up an uncomfortable mirror and showed me
how much I was hiding.
One night I was strolling through Greenwich
Village smoking pot. I stumbled upon Richard connecting with a
collection of teenagers who were sitting on a stoop, captivated
by his charisma. As I got closer I heard enough to realize he
was using his gifts of poetry and humor to inspire them to stay
away from smoking. Just as I started to turn around and walk the
other way, he spotted me. I froze. He called me over and gave me
a big bear hug as I inconspicuously dropped the joint to the
sidewalk and braced myself for his reaction to the pungent cloud
of smoke around me. But either his nose or his heart chose not
to register the aroma, and he immediately engaged me in the sort
of conversation one does one's best to avoid when one is stoned.
He asked me what I did for a living. I told
him about peddling laundry bags, but also that I was in training
to become a rebirther. He became animated and excited. “I’ve
been wanting to find out about rebirthing!” he exclaimed.
Before I had time to guess what was coming next he had taken a
pocket tape recorder out of his briefcase, pressed the record
button, and said, “Scott Kalechstein, professional rebirther,
on rebirthing.” He put the mike up to my mouth, and I managed
to sputter out a few sentences on the simple breathing process
that had changed my life.
Although he had strong feelings about
living a drug-free life, Richard never mentioned the marijuana.
He had even stronger feelings about loving and accepting people
as they were, and seeing the beauty in them even when they
weren’t yet seeing it in themselves.
We kept running into each other in odd
places, and through it all a friendship emerged. I nicknamed him
Swami Subwaynanda, and he liked it. Richard’s subway ministry
was a big part of his life, and the name fit him.
A spiritual teacher I was studying with at
the time warned her students to avoid the subways. She said the
vibrations down there were too dense and could be very draining
to souls seeking to serve humanity. I was glad that Richard
hadn’t studied with her.
Anyone who doubts Jesus’ prophecy that we
would one day do greater works has never seen Richard raise a
crowd of people in a subway car from the dead. Once I saw him
get almost everyone on the train to chant “More hugging, less
mugging!” This was his signature slogan. I started spotting it
on window decals and bumper stickers all over the city. Richard,
who had once been a police officer, had discovered that he
preferred preventing crime with creativity and love to fighting
crime with might.
Besides being a blazing light in the
tunnels of the city, Richard was also an activist, a gospel
singer, a rapper, a minister, a gifted and moving poet, and a
great improviser of songs. We shared wonderful times together
making up songs in the moment, and he was a big fan of my newly
emerging musical career. It was thrilling to have a man twenty
years my senior believe in me so enthusiastically.
One tune of mine, "Follow Your Heart,"
was his clear favorite. “That song’s meant to be BIG, Scott!
The whole world needs to know about that song!” A
hopelessly white folksinger, I wrote and sung it as a ballad.
Richard thought it was more suited for gospel. He performed and
recorded it at his church. When he shared the tape with me, it
was so full of his heart and soul I could hardly recognize my
own song!
Richard was a Christian, and loved Jesus in
a big way. He was filled with a sense of purpose, and considered
himself a missionary of sorts. But he didn’t share his church
or his religion; he shared his Spirit. And I had never before
met a traditional Christian who so honored everyone else’s
spiritual and religious points of view. His missionary position
was that everybody belonged on top.
When I moved to California in 1990 I
didn’t keep in touch with Richard. Early this year he found
me, through the grace of the Internet. I called him and we had a
wonderful conversation, catching each other up on the too many
years we had been out of touch. Feeling like the prodigal son
returning, I apologized for how long I had been out of contact.
He welcomed me with open arms, and expressed a strong desire to
hear the music that had come out of me since leaving N.Y.C. I
sent him my CD’s- eight discs and thirteen years of material
he had not heard before.
Richard’s wife recently phoned to tell me
that he had just had a heart attack on a bus and didn’t make
it. I fought back tears and shock as I listened to what she had
to say. She wanted me to know that he had spoken of me often
over the years and had loved me deeply, and also that he had
been thoroughly enjoying the music I had sent. I told her how
much he had meant to me, that he had infused me with his Spirit
in such a way that my life had been forever touched and blessed.
Re-connecting just before he made his
passing was such a gift for both of us.
Richard, I will always be grateful for your
example of fearless living and loving, as well as the interest
you took in me, my talents, and my life. I will always remember
you holding that mirror to my face the first time we met. Then I
thought you were delightfully crazy, and now I’ve spent the
rest of my life aspiring to your level of insanity. You passed
your torch on to me and countless others. Help us hold it high,
dear brother, and continue to support us in being the light that
we are, the light that you showed me in the mirror, the light in
the tunnel. I love you and thank you for your precious gifts to
me and to this planet.
“So forget about race, religion, color or
creed. More huggin less muggin's what everybody need!”
- Richard Bartee, 1943-2003
The scoop on Scott Kalechstein and his music can be
found at: http://www.scottsongs.com He can be
emailed at scott@scottsongs.com.
You can also listen to and order Scott’s CD’s over a secure
server by visiting http://www.cdbaby.com/group/scottsongs
If you like this remembrance consider making a donation * *
* * *
update 4 August
2008 |
