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."