the gift of music
brandon lagana
i had been inside the prison called gander hill several times already by the time i met ray in the spring of 1993. my father roup teaching inmates to improve their communication and speaking skills. i e, majoring in speech communications, and eventually i started my oroup at gander hill.
teaching communication means getting people to tell their stories, but ray could tell you ho his guitar . sometimes he moved his hands across the air as if he his favorite blues scale. he alave me a slight nod . he loved sharing his guitar stories. although he had been an inmate at gander hill for over a decade, he al in his head, in particular one that he said he had been in his mind since his arrival. he looked for again the roup formally established itself at gander hill, the men ht of celebration to ht of the celebration er. since his fly lived in texas, no one came to the celebration as ray’s guest, but he in his head, i uitar.
ray tuned that guitar as if he his life back into harmony. i have never heard a guitar tuned like that before or since. he looked at me over his shoulder and nodded a thank-you before bringing his song to life on the guitar. i ers dance across the strings as if they free. and for those feoments, he was.
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