“Howie the Harp” was a co-founder of Altered States of the Arts and is a legend in the mental health community.  He was a passionate and tireless consumer advocate who was a friend to all and loved by many.  Howie, for a while, became a homeless person by choice so that he could work with the homeless.  He was known at Alternatives conferences for his  role as M.C. of the talent shows.  He would raise his cane in the air and ask the audience “What am I doing”?”  The audience would response resoundingly “Raising cane.”  Since his passing, Howie has been memorialized in many ways.  In his memory, a “Howie the Harp Arts Award” is given each year at Alternatives to an artist who exemplifies his sprit as an artist with a social change message..  Many have written stories and poetry about him.  This poignant piece is one of those poems written by Sally Clay who is also one of the co-founders of Altered States of the Arts. 

Howie and the Angels

 

     

I see you as a kid, Howie,

scruffy teenager,  25 years ago,

even then one step ahead

of the shrinks and the bureaucrats.

You listened instead to a midnight healer,

night attendant in the nuthouse,

who pulled salvation from his vest pocket,

a blues harp, one note above

the medical notes, a blue note,

transporting you to heaven.

 

You must have known

when they confiscated your harp

and put you in seclusion for playing it,

that you really had something there

an instrument of power

to carry us away.

 

I can see you coast to coast, playing those chords,

homeless in New York,

blowing all the way to Oregon,

Oregon to New York, New York to California,

Berkeley to the Bowery, back to New York

playing on your harp that same blue note,

pied piper of madness, songs for the crazy folk,

rounding up the strays

before they can cart us away.

 

I can see you now, Howie,

though God knows where you are,

you brought your harp along

and rounded up the angels.

You organized a heavenly choir

and added crazy rhythm.

You’re up there blowing your heart out, Howie,

you finally made it home.

 

I hear the angel voices calling,

“Crazy and proud, crazy and proud.”

Play it again, Howie.

Play it for me.

We hear you, Howie,

Take it away.

 

Sally Clay

March 18, 1995