The last time I saw Raven, a few years ago, my homeless friend walked along the side of the road. I’d swung my car around at the next bend, dodging traffic, and had hoped to visit him on the street. However, I missed the chance because, by the time I returned to that stretch of the road, he was gone.
A couple of weeks before, I’d run into my friend on a Saturday. That morning, he sang for me, and I asked him if I could record a portion of his song, which he allowed. He had a request that day, as he’d given me a ceramic statue of an angel to place on his father’s grave. And the journey of several trips to gravesites began, because he wasn’t sure which cemetery held his father’s remains, but I found it!
We had many ‘precious times’ over the years, where we celebrated his March birthday in a parking lot. More than once. With cupcakes and hats. With my singing, happy birthday to him.
