Dear President-Elect Trump:
Rafim; His name was Rafim.
Though we had a relationship, of sorts, during the entire time it took me well over a year before I knew his name. We connected at least twice a day, maybe more. Some may question my use of the word, connect. It is true that we never spoke during that year of connection—until one of my last days living in Kyiv when I asked his name. But I stick by my use of the word. We connected. Twice a day we connected.
Arsenalna is a no-nonsense name for the metro stop where Rafim and I met each day. Arsenalna—arsenal in English–describes what lies directly across the street—a munitions factory. Before Ukrainian independence, it was the Soviets’ munition factory. Before the Soviets, it was the czar’s munition factory. The buildings still wear the bullet pockmarks from when the Bolsheviks ripped it away from the Czar in 1918, making it a source of strength for Soviet domination.
Metro Station Arsenalna has the distinction of being the deepest subway station in the world– 351 feet below the surface. It takes two escalators to reach the bottom. At the midway point—where the two escalators meet, the Soviets constructed a large domed room. The escalator going to the street is on one side, and the escalator to the metro, on the other. Kyivites reach the domed room, walk through it, and continue their journey on the escalator on the other side. 1.4 million passengers ride the Kyiv Metro each day. Arsenalna Metro Station gets its fair share of those. It is not an exaggeration to state that thousands, maybe tens of thousands pass through the domed room each day.
The domed room is Rafim’s concert hall. Probably less than five feet tall, Rafim sits on a short stool, back pushed against the wall, and broadly smiling as he fills the domed room with melodies from his accordion. The accordion case sits open in front of him, receiving coin or currency from anyone willing to contribute.
I immediately took to his music and his indomitable smile. He made every lousy day better and added exclamation points to every good day.
I paused one day to linger, hear his music a little longer, and to put a few coins in his case. And then I saw what I had missed every other day that I had commuted through the domed room—he made most people’s bad days better and added exclamation points to nearly everyone’s good days. Person after person, one by one, then by the dozens, then by the hundreds they passed by on their way to or fro. Many stone stiff faces relaxed into smiles. Hardened eyes softened.
I contemplated the husbands and fathers who gave a little more cheerful greeting as they returned from work, the women who felt a bit more hope and beauty, who passed that on to those they met. The exponential ways that Rafim has changed people’s lives and the world will never be known. But they are felt. He influenced my letter to you today. Each of us influences the world in positive or negative ways—daily.
We are all connected, every one of us. It is a spiritual connection.
It is who we are.
More Tomorrow,
David O. Leavitt
