One Song, Two Lives

Peter’s guitar rang out with the opening notes. William brushed past me. He had recognized the beat almost instantly.

“Ooh this is a good song,” he called out. I don’t think he was talking to anybody in particular. He was, as we say, just “feeling the Spirit.”

Ashley’s voice filled the room. “Give me one reason to stay here, and I’ll turn right back around.”

William’s voice joined in for the next line. He stood a few feet away, just out of the spotlight.

Ashley didn’t miss a beat. She turned and motioned to him, inviting him to duet with her.

I gulped. Oh Lord. What are we in for now?

HeartBound has been hosting a monthly program called Tuesdays Together at the Atlanta Transitional Center (ATC) for almost a year now. To fill you in, on the first Tuesday of every month, volunteers and incarcerated residents gather in the basement of the ATC to eat dinner, play games, sing songs, complete a craft activity, and hear a message of faith and encouragement.

When we first started Tuesdays Together it was a bit more like “the Spencer Show.” I ran all the games, played the guitar and led us in song, gave the talk, and helped guide the small group discussions. For an hour and a half, I would play this emcee character and make self-deprecating jokes, trying to do everything by myself. Afterwards, I’d lie awake in bed, wide awake from all the energy I’d summoned for my role.

I quickly realized this was unsustainable.

So, at the end of each gathering I’d implore the volunteers, “Please, please help me. If you want to speak, speak. If you want to lead a game, lead it! If you want to sing, for the love of God please get me off the microphone and sing.”

But volunteers were slow to sign up for roles. Singing before a crowd of 50-60 strangers can be terrifying. Leading goofy games with incarcerated men as your audience is intimidating. Volunteers were content with serving in the ways they already were – providing food to the men, sitting and talking with them about their trials and tribulations, helping them with their crafts. All wonderful, good, needed things.

Peter and Ashley were an answer to prayer. My girlfriend Madi brought me to see them perform one night in Roswell. Madi asked if they’d ever be open to singing in prison. Without hesitation, they answered the call.

Since they joined our regular volunteer team, the quality of our music has increased drastically. No longer is it me standing in front of the room, hammering out the same three chords while singing “Country roads, take me home.” The men now get to hear songs like “Here Comes the Sun” and “Chicken Fried,” songs they know by heart and can easily sing along to. Ashley and Peter are phenomenal performers and bring a whole different energy to our meetings.

While Ashley’s voice may be smooth and polished from years of performing, I can assure you, William’s voice is not. He’s been attending Tuesdays Together since he was first transferred to the Transitional Center several months ago. He is quick to greet our volunteers with a smile, a blessing, and a hug. In addition to our Tuesdays Together program, William has been attending HeartBound’s financial literacy class, providing me plenty of opportunities to get to know him.

Some details I can share – he speaks with a heavy Caribbean accent, and his favorite holiday food was “rice and ketchup” because that’s all his mom could afford. He loves art and is developing his own fashion line. When he prays, he gets down on one knee and rests his forehead upon a closed fist. It’s never “God,” it’s “Father God.” Also – William has devil horns tattooed above his eyebrows. A local tattoo artist has offered to remove them for free, but William has yet to be granted permission from the Department of Corrections for the cosmetic procedure to proceed. For months and months he has eagerly waited for approval. For months and months he has been met with silence. All he wants is to have his mother visit and see him without the tattoos that he has come to despise so much.

I have developed a theory on face tattoos, especially the ones I see in prisons. People like William get those tattoos not because they look good, but because they want to hide. They put horns and clown masks on their faces so that you’ll look away. They tattoo teardrops on the corner of their eyes so you’ll see that they’re different, that you shouldn’t talk to them, that you should just let them be. These face tattoos are really a big, dramatic, permanent cry for help. There is often shame, guilt, and sadness hidden behind those scary tattoos.

Each time I see William he shares the same news – no approval for tattoo removal yet. We then take time to pray together. We pray for patience and for those in power to have a softened attitude towards William. With each month that passes, that prayer seems to go unanswered. With each month, William grows more and more frustrated. It’s been a long road – but we’re not giving up.

But as William stood in front of the room with Ashley and sang, you’d have never known his frustration, his anxiety, his sadness. All I could see were two people, joined in rhythm, singing along to a guitar. Two people from totally different worlds living totally different lives, one free, one incarcerated, brought together by music. There they were, lifting their voices up high, bringing smiles and joy to those of us in the crowd. Ashley’s fingers snapped to the rhythm and William tapped his foot to the beat.

Before the music began, a man wearing a Keffiyeh (a checkered cotton skullcap worn by Muslims) had tried to go through the buffet line and slip out the door with his food. I pleaded with him to stay, to not be someone who just shows up for food and leaves at the first opportunity. He eyed me skeptically, knowing that HeartBound was a Christian organization. But not wanting to be rude, he grabbed a seat in the back and sat quietly.

At the end of the evening, the man in the Keffiyeh approached me. He extended a hand for me to shake.

“Thank you. I’m glad I stayed.”

Me too.

Spencer