Beneath the Bond: Unraveling Secrets in Andrew Miller’s My Guys
Some mornings, Leroy’s father shouted up the stairs, “Stay in bed until I’m gone. I don’t want to see your face.”
***
Although their hearts were eaten, we still blame them. I yearn to sit with them, hear their stories. But that won’t happen. When meetings adjourn, correctional officers hustle them to the dorms. As a volunteer, I have no visitation privileges.
Where does their pain go?
***
After retiring, I wanted to do something more meaningful than delivering meals to shut-ins or helping at the Senior Center. My life had been rich, filled with many experiences; now it was time to give back. I would teach these men and women new skills. I would help ease their transition into the Free World.
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