At sixteen, my guitar and I found a captive audience at the local community hospital, as I went room to room and miraculously, patients responded to my songs with smiles and laughter. One day Dr. Taylor directed me to Billy, a little ten year old boy battling Wilms’ Tumor, a childhood cancer that had grown out of control. I sang to him every day for two weeks, and we became pals. One day after school, I was bagging groceries at Paul Turner’s Food Market, and the hospital called the store asking me to come to the hospital as soon as possible. I jumped in my old Volkswagen Bug, and raced to the hospital. When I arrived, a nurse told me that Billy was struggling and needed me. As I opened the door to his room, I saw his mother holding one of his little hands, and his grandmother on the…

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