Baltimore

I spend a great deal of time thinking about race; I can't help it. One of the biggest changes to my life from "out there" to "in here" was confronting some of the preconceived ideas and prejudices I held about black and white issues.

The "old Larry" would have immediately reacted to what took place in Baltimore as " a group of thugs." I would have been muttering under my breath how we “coddled” bad behavior, needed to get tough; I would have had all the slogans down about "those people" burning and looting their own neighborhoods. I would have remained narrow minded and foolish.

I see things differently now. Race is the 1000-pound elephant sitting in the middle of the room--in the middle of America's room. I can't fully appreciate what it means to be black in this country but I know we still have a long way to go. The rioting isn't about "getting something," as much as it is a cry of hopelessness.

Baltimore is representative of the segregation that still exists in America. Within two or three short miles of the epicenter of the rioting there is a whole different world. The life expectancy in the rioted neighborhood is 20 years less than in the suburbs just a short drive away. Twenty years--imagine that. Imagine the lack of even basics such as grocery stores or shopping where decent produce can be bought.

America has failed the poor of this country--and poverty knows no color. Most of the men I see in here--black and white--come from poor families; they are generationally poor--and nothing we have done has improved their lot. A few days ago I went back and began rereading John Steinbeck's epic American novel, "The Grapes of Wrath." The plight of the Joad family--Okies treated worse than most would treat a pet dog--as they sought a new life in California is as fresh today as it was in the late 30s when it was published.

We have got to come to grips with the reality of poverty and race in America. Crime, I have come to learn, is a public health issue; and the symptoms are poverty and racism and ignorance. That has not changed since Steinbeck wrote about the great dust bowl migration of the 30s.

I have a great number of young black men who look up to me and believe me when I tell them they can do whatever they desire with their lives after prison. I tell them to hope...and to believe in themselves. I pray each night I am not letting them down with my false dreams and hopes.

Baltimore can be a defining moment for this country; or, it can be just another riot--another misunderstood action by people like me who miss the real challenge facing this country. That it took prison for me to see the dignity in folks who didn't look like me or talk like me is an irony I don't overlook.

Prisons are full of the results of this country's failed response to poverty, discrimination, and ignorance. It is time for a change.

I saw the movie “Selma” this weekend and what astounded me was not the beatings, not the ignorance and hatred, but that even in the face of such institutional wrong, people could still have hope and believe.

As the character Andy Dufresne says in "Shawshank Redemption," "hope is a good thing; hope is the only thing."

Searching for Meaning

I was asked to teach an advanced writing class for the guys who completed the introductory writer’s workshop. The faculty advisor and I decided to put a summer reading list together of classics. We chose The Grapes of Wrath, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Call of the Wild, and about eight more. One of the only two non-fiction books we chose was Dr. Viktor Frankl’s amazing book Man’s Search for Meaning. I read this book as a senior in college writing my undergraduate independent study. It made somewhat of an impression on me then; it is seared in my conscious thought now.



Frankl was a Jewish psychiatrist living in Vienna, Austria during the Second World War. He ended up surviving Auschwitz and three other camps. His pregnant wife, his parents, and a host of other family members perished at the hands of the Nazis. He somehow survived and found meaning in his suffering. He also found the inner strength to fight to live and later, to love and forgive.


He wrote: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.”


He watched as seemingly healthy young men gave up, surrendered and died. Yet, there were others, suffering terribly, they still remained eternally optimistic.


I see the same thing and understand what Dr. Frankl meant. Men in here on their second, third or even fourth “bid” who lie around on their bunks, wasting their minds, their futures, away. Then, there are the men who enroll in college, read everything they can get their hands on. They strive, not just to survive prison, but overcome it. These men understand who they are. They accept the punishment handed down for the wrongs they committed. But, they challenge the illogical conditions of this environment.


“No man should judge unless he asks himself in absolute honesty whether in a similar situation he might not have done the same.”


I have a young friend in here who tutors with me. Corey is 25. He is completing the final 18 months of a five year sentence for reckless driving resulting in death. Corey went drag racing against two friends. His girlfriend – a passenger in his car – was ejected from his vehicle when he lost control and crashed. She died at the scene.


Sending Corey to prison has done nothing to make him a “reformed person”; it’s done nothing to bring the girl back. He struggled for the first three years of his imprisonment, without therapy, to deal with his guilt and remorse.


Does Corey deserve condemnation, punishment, or forgiveness? A person whom I love dearly – more so after my incarceration, wrote me saying “I prayed you would die in jail”. Her anger, bubbling on the surface, led her to utter this prayer. Should I cry out and condemn her? I can’t.


This past week, a drunk driver – an illegal immigrant – struck and killed a nun and seriously injured two others. While the newscasts raced against each other for interviews with prosecutors and immigration advocates politicizing this tragedy, the driver’s parents travelled to the sisters’ convent to offer their apology and explain their son’s raging alcoholism. The sisters prayed with them. They prayed for the young man, and forgave him. Remarkable, yet the exact right thing to do: God’s gift of grace in action. Could any of us do the same? Should any of us accept less from ourselves?


“Man is that being who invented the gas chambers of Auschwitz; however, he is also that being who entered the gas chambers upright, with the Lord’s Prayer or the Sherma Yisrael on his lips.”


We are capable – each of us – of self-centeredness, of recklessness, of not caring, not being kind, not loving or forgiving; yet, we also can love, can forgive, we can endure.


An amazing man; an amazing book. All the reasons to hope, to endure, to find solace and meaning in your darkest day.


“Et lux in tenebris lucet.” And the light shineth in the darkness.