Graduation

There's a Bruce Springsteen lyric I can't get out of my head, from his song "Atlantic City:"

“Everything dies baby that's a fact
But everything that dies maybe some day comes back...”

So yesterday was graduation and, in spite of the head of security "Jeffrey" trying to ruin the event--see the man is in over his head; he hates programs that benefit the men, he hates the inmates, he especially hates inmates getting an education--graduation was emotional and wonderful. My man-child friend "Moose" delivered his graduation speech flawlessly. Over and over he would look at the audience and say "believe" and the crowd, about 100 visitors there to see their sons and fathers and brothers earn degrees or certificates began to clap and join in a rhythmic sound of joy--as Moose told his story, the story of getting a college degree while behind bars. And he thanked me and told me I inspired him. Funny, no one in my life ever said I was an inspiration. No one claimed I gave them hope or faith or belief. And yet in here, I play that role. In here, I am father figure to dozens of these young college men who fight the odds and overcome.

The President Emeritus of the college spoke eloquently about the need for college inside a prison--he said, that's what it is, a prison. It's not a correctional center, it's a prison and they try and break you and kill your hope and your dreams. "Don't let them," he urged.

Joy. What a lovely word. We have a literature professor by the name of "Joy." She brought her husband to our graduation yesterday and she marched in the procession. The men, they remember. They remember that in the last British lit class Joy told us, "I pray for each of you by name each night." Joy prays for us. These men don't forget; they know that for the dozens of "Jeffreys" who rely on this place for a living, who see only the worst, there is “Joy” whose prayers are stronger than any negativity from a thousand.

What does school mean to these men? It means everything. It means pride and hope and belief. It means you can overcome the felony conviction. You can leave here and succeed.

They cut visit short yesterday after the ceremony--just another in the "security" measures these people apply to remind you none of us matter. But there's "Joy" who keeps us in her prayers.

Bruce’s lyric goes through my mind. Everything maybe someday comes back. "Atlantic City" is one of those sad, soulful ballads I just love which tear at my conscience; and it reminds me there is always hope.

Graduation--I wrote Moose's speech. I wanted these young men to know that there is life after this. I needed to remind myself of that.

I read a story recently where an American missionary in India was talking to an elderly village elder. "I feel sorry for you Americans," the elderly man said. "You have so much, you forget you need God."
Prison reminds you of your need; and Joy, she reminds us that we can overcome.

"Everything dies baby that's a fact"; marriage, relationships, jobs, even sometimes freedom.
"But everything that dies someday maybe comes back." That was my message in the graduation speech; and the best part of it was, after hearing Moose, after seeing the guys and their families and the folks from the college, I believe it. Believe--God that is a great word, a word that can overcome even all this.