Singing the Blues

Eric called out to me, “Spencer, any parting words for the students and our guests?”

My mind whirled. What could I possibly say to sum up what I’d just seen? How could I properly describe the experience? What words would be sufficient?

“Let’s just say I haven’t ever seen anything like that before, and I’m quite certain that I’ll never see anything like that again.”

A hearty laughter echoed across the room. Each of us wore a smile on our face. It was a good day.

Eric and I were at Burruss Correctional Training Center for HeartBound’s Project A.R.T. guitar recital. For nearly a year now, Eric has been visiting Burruss to lead two guitar classes – one for adults and one for incarcerated 17-year-olds.

Playing an instrument as part of a class and performing for a crowd are two very different things. Eric decided that it was time to put our students to the test, to give them the opportunity to perform for their families, the prison staff, and their peers. Before our recital, the energy in the room was palpable. You could tell the guys were nervous. Eric went around to each man and boy, confidently reassuring them. I laid out the food we’d prepared for the class. The crowd, which wasn’t supposed to be more than 24 people, had swelled. GED teachers, guards, administrators, and counselors must have gotten wind of the recital and showed up.

Eric introduced the students and shared some details about the program. Watching Eric work the room was a thing of beauty. The prison’s warden had allowed the students’ families to attend, a rare treat for many of the men and boys. Eric shared his personal testimony with the crowd – he’d once been incarcerated at Burruss. In fact, at Burruss, he learned to play the guitar, in a class sponsored by HeartBound, using a guitar donated by HeartBound. Looking at his students, he told them bluntly, “I wore those same stripes as you.” He continued. “God gave us music as a way to worship Him. And friends and guests, that’s what we’re going to do today -  praise our Father.”

But first, the food. The men sat with their families, sharing a meal together. It was simple. It was beautiful. Nerves melted away.

Finally, Eric called the men together. I had to be in Kennesaw in two hours and needed to leave. I didn’t have the time to stay for the entire recital, but I figured I could stay for one song.

The students sat in a line, guitars slung across their laps. Eric asked them questions about music theory, giving them an opportunity to show how much they’ve learned. I play guitar and didn’t know half of what they discussed. I was impressed.

The opening song was “Amazing Grace”. One student explained that they’d be playing in three-quarters time, key of G.

I’ve been teaching guitar at a youth detention center long enough to know that it rarely goes well when students play as a group. Someone always gets flustered or hits a wrong note and it can quickly go off the rails. I prayed a silent prayer for Eric and his students; Lord, just don’t let it be too bad. Not with their families here.

Eric struck the opening note. The class joined in.

Sitting here writing this, I can’t find the words to describe to you the noise that radiated through that room. It was joyous, and peaceful, serene, and comforting, all at once. It was blessed.

They sang and strummed.

I once was lost, but now I’m found.

I felt like weeping. It was so beautiful.

Later, the tension gone, the men performed one of Eric’s own songs, “The Al Burruss Blues”.

For your enjoyment, I’ve included the lyrics and the chords below.

In a world so dark and drear, those six strings of a guitar are bringing these men and boys cheer.

By the way, I didn’t make it to Kennesaw in time. I didn’t care.

I’ll never see anything like it again.