One Nation Under Obama

Although Nielsen’s address is 770 Broadway, it is actually located on 9th St between Broadway and Lafayette. The address is an attempt to add prestige. After work, I walk to the corner of 8th St and Lafayette to board a local 6 train at the Astor Place Station. I get off at the first stop, Union Square, and transfer to an express 4 or 5 train until I reach 125th St. The entire trip takes about 20-40 minutes. Yesterday, it was especially entertaining.

I was about to take a step onto a 5 train at Union Square, when a short, overweight African American man, disguised as former all-pro Oakland Raider Tim Brown, barged his way onto the train. I entered after him. As the train left the station, I took a closer look at the man who caused me discomfort.

Mr. Brown stared at his feet, probably in guilt for taking the space of three average sized people on a crowded train. He carried a cylinder of liquid. He shook it as he obnoxiously cleared his throat again and again. The train reached Grand Central, 42nd St, and came to a stop. Mr. Brown maneuvered his way into the center of the car. As the train accelerated, he cleared his throat one last time.

“Brothers and Sisters,” he shouted. I removed an earphone. His English was terrible, so bad that I turned my music off to listen. For me, it became a game of interpretation. “The education is a key. Your child can be a lawyer, the doctor, or the teacher. Amen,” he said strewing articles all about. He turned in my direction and smiled with his tooth. For a moment our eyes caught. “The future is a education, Brother. Amen.”

I agreed with Mr. Brown. I wanted to see what others thought of his message. The floor was his; nearly every passenger on the train was affixed. He spoke again, “Praise Jesus, Amen. Get off the streets, help your the fellow man, send a your children to the college. Amen.”

For the first time in New York, I felt an urge to donate. I reached for my wallet. “The education is a key. Amen.” Unlike most subway preachers, Mr. Brown didn’t complain about life circumstance or even ask for money. In addition, he wore Tim Brown’s jersey, a Notre Dame alumnus (my favorite college football team).

He spoke as we approached 125th St. “I believe in the education. Amen. I do not believe in a God. There is no the God. I believe in the President. The Obama, Amen. He is key. I love him. Listen to him. He says the education is key. I love him. I believe in him. Praise Jesus, Amen.”

A wallet fell back into the pocket. I exited a train and walked home the richer man.