Strike Over, Austin, and Richie Havens

The SEPTA strike is over.  The musicians are back at Suburban Station.  The sounds of conga drums, hammer dulcimer, and guitar now reverberate through the concourse again.
I met Austin on the bus going in town this morning.  Austin is a slender musician, my age, and he jumped right in to philosophizing about life, the people we meet, the impressions we make on each other, the vibrations we exchange with each other, the lasting effect we have on each other.  There are no filters with Austin.  I ride with him for about fifteen minutes, but time doesn't exist while he talks non-stop, and he has taken me to a new level of awareness.  The effect we have on each other.
Later that morning, as I'm playing at Suburban Station, Austin has found me again.  He wanders up and smiles.  Between songs, we chat.  We talk about the musicians we grew up with, like Odetta and Richie Havens.  I fumble through Havens' song "Morning, Morning."  I promise him, I'll learn the song by the next time he shows up.  Austin and I share a special place in our hearts for Richie Havens.   He was the first musician I ever saw live.  I was in the seventh grade.  My cool parents took me and my folkie friend Peter Sullivan (this was 1964) to the live show "Folk Music, USA" on WGBH public television in Boston.  We were in the coffeehouse audience.  Thank you, Richie Havens, for opening my eyes to the world of live music....
I could talk to Austin all day.  I excuse myself, however, and tell him, I have to get back to work.  He flashes me a magnetic smile, we shake, and he drifts off, much like the way he arrived.  Like a wonderful and refreshing vapor.  Until the next time, Austin.
Thank you, Austin, for enhancing my day.  Until the next time.
Austin, another mentor on the Path.
It's all about the people.......