It wasn’t long after my 50th birthday when I met w/ my cousin Kelly Walker on Yonge Street for a hang. A musician, recording artist, public speaker, therapist, author, and one-time Dominican friar and priest, Kelly, who passed on over the weekend, lived an incredible and awe-inspiring life.
His last chapters were spent in Stratford, Ontario, w/ his husband Ray Harsant, and filled w/ a seemingly never-ending stream of community initiatives and philanthropy. They were the reason why I settled in Perth County for a year after moving back to my birth province of Ontario in 2019 after leaving Vancouver again, and where I completed work on the Grammy-nominated WILLIE DUNN NOTES and anthology project, an 8-year journey for me.
But back to the street, Kelly and I walked north on Yonge from College after meeting and he regaled me w/ stories from back in the day, of defunct venues and long gone friends like the legendary Bob McBride of Lighthouse, who had fallen on hard times in the 1980s.
As we passed the boarded up Scientology building at 696 Yonge, just south of St. Mary, I asked Kelly if he had ever done work w/ them. “No,” he said, “but I did stuff w/ the Process Church and they gave me a ring.” My mind exploded! Cue Funkadelic’s Maggot Brain:
“Fear…” reads the landmark 1971 album's gatefold sleeve album notes.
A fellow student of theology, I loved hearing about the dialogue between faiths and belief systems, not always in unison, yet open for exchange and discussion, which was more common, perhaps, in the 1970s.
Not far away, we tucked into The Artful Dodger for a couple of cheeky midday drinks, followed by a meal at the excellent Mogouyan Hand Pulled Noodle restaurant, which Kelly enjoyed, to my excitement. Sharing food w/ friends and family remains as good as life gets to me. Kelly was no stranger to kitchens and creating countless meals of celebration and bonding for friends and strangers alike.
From there, I walked Kelly over to Bay Station so that he could connect w/ his host in the city, another old friend, on the east side of town. We walked past Holt Renfrew and other menswear shops in Yorkville, a far cry from its 1960s hippie era. We admired the tailoring of some suits and jackets behind tall glass windows and bemoaned the prices.
Though financially secure, Kelly had long since abandoned any “high fashion” taste for second hand outfits assembled w/ his trademark brand of flair at Value Village, even pieces of stage wear as he was still performing in his 80s.
Kelly Walker died last Saturday night in Stratford after a piano recital at an early Christmas concert alongside The Stratford Concert Choir. He will be dearly missed by his husband Ray and countless friends and family members around the world.
“Come visit us, kid,” were his last words to me, and while I won’t be able to hug my cousin again, I remember his hands, smell, touch, presence, and whiskered face, up against mine, for a familial embrace, eternally.
Play “The Rose” up there for Nicki, will ya, Kelly! LOVE
