Learning to love oneself is the singular biggest lesson we can learn in life. At least that’s what larger-than-life, Dimitri Reeves believes. “For through self-acceptance and loving oneself naturally comes loving others — for who we are, as we are.”
In returning home last evening from running errands, I passed by what I had only heard about through short video clips sent by a coworker. I showed them to my parents, bringing them some much needed smiles. They watched the bold and outrageous Southern Maryland intersection entertainer with glee. Now this is the point when I tell you that whenever any out-of-the-ordinary, strange-but-true happenings occur — I’m there. Especially when they involve live music. Without hesitation I circled back and parked in the nearby bank corner parking lot and joined the other intrigued members of my community. My heart pumped with excitement and I quickly set my phone to video and stepped outside.
The corner of Three Notch Road and Chancellors Run at 4:15 pm was bustling for a Sunday, perhaps in anticipation of the upcoming holidays as cars held naked trees tied to their roofs in expectation of sparkling holiday decorations. The weather was brisk in the quickly dying daylight and situated on the corner closest to me were two multi-colored flashing light boxes, an industrial fogger and a heavy duty sound system blasting “Little Red Corvette.”
There, atop a black compact car covered in glitter labeled #dimitrireeves he stood. Brandishing a microphone and falling to his knees with dramatic flair singing along with the music while his audience sang, swaying back and forth in rhythm, smiles plastered across their faces.
For a short moment, I pondered the fact that for a small rural community, St. Marys County, MD has its share of polar opposites. Not just ten miles up the road is situated a large community of Amish with their black buggies and modest dress, and here in front of me a man in dramatic operatic face makeup wearing spandex, moonwalking across an intersection singing iconic rock for thousands of passersby — including not a few law enforcement officers, who allowed the show to go on.
I took as much video as I could until the cold called me homeward. I placed my boyfriend’s business card in the tip bucket. On it read, “We’d like to do an interview with you.” By the time I arrived home, Brian had already sent me a screenshot of a text exchange he had had with Dimitri. An interview was set in two days.
Often life is like that. You see something and you reach out. It’ll either reach back, or not, but the inherent value is in the reaching — without expectations.
What I already knew about Dimitri (from social media) was that for the last ten years, he has performed both original music and covered some of the greats like Michael Jackson, Elvis, AC/DC and James Brown. He has rocked out, not only in the streets, but on stage to thousands as well as for private smaller events with mentally disabled and elderly audiences. Dimitri has sang and danced his heart out for everyone.
I cannot emphasize enough the way Dimitri speaks about his experiences, the way pure joy is encased in a sincere love of life, his enthusiasm literally gushing through the phone. There is an urgency in his voice when he speaks about what’s really important in life and the necessity for human connection — especially right now. For a split moment and many more in the following days, the thought crossed my mind that if I could just bottle up what he has, nobody would ever feel lonely or unloved again.
Dimitri and his manager, Vaughan Mason, playing bass.
Dimitri may have the body of a 28 year old but as he puts it, “the mental age of infinity.” At the age of 18 and against the well-natured will of his parents, Dimitri signed with his manager, Vaughan Mason, beginning a decade of musical entertainment throughout the United States in large cities like LA and Las Vegas, opening up for bands during their tours. Dimitri attributes his manager for teaching him everything he knows about entertainment and is forever indebted. Sadly, four months ago, Vaughan passed away, which launched the next phase of Dimitri’s life — back where it all started, right here in Southern Maryland.
For the time being, Dimitri is living with his parents, as many young people do nowadays, and is reconnecting with his family. “With every choice comes a sacrifice and with every sacrifice a lesson,” he comments when asked how he feels about what he has missed. “However, I also learned the power of my talent is a means to convey the positivity and love needed in the world.”
Through his own suffering and difficult times growing up — coming to terms with childhood sexual abuse, low self-esteem, a broken heart and thoughts of suicide — Dimitri has been able to see the pain of those around him and notice how people live half-lives, letting fear take control. “If I could relay one message, it’s to love yourself and others. That parents need to have their kids’ back, to love them unconditionally and that notions of fake importance are just that — people use them to hide behind.”
As long as Dimitri can remember, his dad, a naval veteran, has always had one leg. He survived a horrendous car accident in which the entire passenger side was crushed along with his leg. Only minutes before, something had told his dad to drop the young Dimitri off beforehand. I can’t instinctively help but think that Dimitri’s life was saved for a reason — a very big reason. In the seconds immediately following the accident before anyone stopped to help, his father recalls seeing a man in an all-white suit telling him that everything was going to be ok and then moments later, he was gone without a trace. Dimitri’s parents are now both kidney transplant recipients, taking life-saving medication daily and on dialysis. “I used to perform Monday through Friday, but since COVID, and out of concern for my parents’ health, I only go out every other day.”
With the help of his producer, Greg, and good friend, Lee, he is able to get out into the community to perform an energetically entertaining three hour show a few times a week.
I have the utmost respect for street performing. I don’t even know why there’s such a stigma to it. I’ve had the privilege to do both. We all take roads to work, streets take us places we want to go.”
Dimitri believes that street performance takes an entirely different level of self-confidence and that performing on stage to an audience of paying customers sets the performer apart in an artificially controlled environment. “What happens on a confined stage is seen as part of the act, however, on the street the same show is somehow perceived as more raw, more controversial – I want people to notice,” says Dimitri.
Currently his only income is what’s placed in the tip buckets and donations through a cash app. However, it’s important to Dimitri that he is able to continually show his supporters their investment in his message by ensuring his shows are never the same twice and that he is using what he brings in to reinvest in equipment. “I want the community to feel like they are a part of my success,” he says. “I use dancing and song as a catalyst for my message of love, light and kindness through consistency and responsibility for one’s self.”
