Stupid Is as Stupid Does

This blog was written in November, 2014. 

            Where’s good Ole’ Forrest when I need him? I’d love his take on the stupidity that passes for “rules” in here. At the outset, let me explain that I’m pro – “dorm” rules. There must be rules, a code of conduct that governs offender behavior. But, rules have to make sense and most of what this Major has put in force is nothing but silly, stupid rules which – candidly – piss guys off and make them more disrespectful of the system and larcenous. Worse, they do nothing to improve the facility’s safety or operation.

            Drugs are everywhere on the compound. Those in charge know who’s using; they’re getting positive drug tests every week. And, we aren’t talking tobacco (that’s all over the place too!). No, we’re talking heroin. More drugs are here than at anytime in the 5 years I’ve been here. How do you suppose all those drugs come in? There are only two ways things make it inside: snuck in under the noses of officers (bad police work) or with complicity of officers (dirty police work). Both are telling examples of fundamental problems inside the fences.

            Some officers – perhaps the majority – care. They don’t want any 23-year-old OD’ing in here. They want a clean compound. But, they’re told by the “program chief” to “tighten up” the building. Two book limit for your locker; all beds must be made with blue blankets tucked in. Then, search to make sure guys don’t have extra shoes, tees, or socks. After all, what’s a drugged out guy in the building compared to a man with 5 state t-shirts?

            This week the “Housing and Program” manager (hell of a title – like jamming this many men in such a tight confined space constitutes “housing” or interfering with education constitutes “programs”) put a new encyclical out. During “dayroom” quiet hours (11:00 pm to 5:15 am.) you are supposed to be in your bed area. This genius changed it to “on your bed.” We have 40 guys each taking upwards of 4 classes who can’t sit on their chairs and study at night. And, ironically, they are now allowed to have computers in the bed area – ever try writing or typing on a rubberized mattress with no backseat?

            Here’s how things work inside: you stress guys out over little things that don’t matter. Meanwhile drugs are everywhere; re-entry (good ole’ bldg. 3) is a complete failure, and fewer men have time to earn their GED. If I didn’t know any better I’d think that those in power were doing it deliberately.

            At the close of World War II U.S. forces poured across the German border; allied troops liberated Nazi concentration camps. Eisenhower and Patton, incensed over the horrific scenes their troops uncovered, ordered local towns people to walk through the camps. “We didn’t know what was going on in here,” the German civilians pleaded. “How could you not know?” Came Eisenhower’s reply.

            “How could you not know?” In his dire portrait of the corrections fiasco in America, researcher Robert Ferguson makes the same argument. Inferno details the violence, neglect, and outright stupidity that is mass incarceration in this country. Which is worse, he asks. Ignorance or knowing and not caring? Prisons are poorly managed with money being poured down a rat hole for stupid rules and little or no measurement of money spent to results achieved. It’s stupid and it’s obvious to anyone who cares. The question is – do you?

Twenty Years Ago

1994. Two movies were released that year that matter to me: “Forrest Gump” and “Shawshank Redemption.” I hear Forrest’s words each day when I run. “Momma said sometimes we just have to outrun our problems.” And on those bad days when I wonder if anything exists beyond this, I can hear Andy Dufresne tell Red and the other inmates, “Hope is a good thing, maybe the only thing. And, hope never dies.”

            Hope never dies. I remember seeing both movies at the theater. And, I laughed at the slow-witted Forrest and his angry antagonist/friend Lt. Dan and I thought I already knew all about love and heartache, failure and redemption and a movie couldn’t explain it to me. Then there was August 2008, and arrest, prison, divorce, and loss. And I ran and yelled at God and cursed my life and found my soul. And I realized Forrest was the smartest protagonist ever written and Lt. Dan, well he proved Romans 8:28 is true.

            And Andy and “hope” – hope is a funny thing. At our best we think we understand it. At our worst we dig deep to see if it’s really there. And, if we find it, we hold on to it tightly because it’s the only thing that keeps us going.

            Twenty years is a long time. Sometimes it feels just like yesterday.

Still Runnin Against the Wind

I can’t seem to tire of the movie “Forrest Gump”. Perhaps it’s because it seems to be shown on TV every weekend. Perhaps the backdrop of American society through the decades of the 60s, 70s and 80s speaks to my memories of growing up. Or maybe it’s just an entertaining movie. Whatever the reason, I keep flipping the channel back to good ol’ Forrest whenever I notice it playing.



Last night was no different. I was watching the NFL playoff game and occasionally checking out the news when I came across Forrest. He had just met Jenny and his legs were kept straight by heavy metal braces. I watched for what seemed to be the thousandth time as bullies began to chase little Forrest, bent on hurting him. Jenny yells “Run Forrest. Run!” he takes off stiff legged, straining against the braces, then suddenly in a burst of energy his knees bend, the braces break into dozens of pieces and he begins to run. He runs with speed and abandonment. He runs. “Once I started to run, I just kept on running.” In almost every scene in the movie, Forrest always comes back to running.


Forrest always loved Jenny. From the moment he met her, he knew they were like “peas and carrots”. But Jenny kept going her own way. Dealing with her pain, her disappointment, she’d come in and out of Forrest’s life. Forrest still believed in Jenny. Even as she left him over and over again.


There is an especially poignant scene where Jenny returns to Forrest. On a rainy Alabama night they make love. Jenny leaves again. Forrest does what comes natural. He began to run. Over three years he ran. “Mama said you always have to outrun your memories ‘til you can stop.”


In the background, Bob Seger is singing “Runnin Against the Wind”. It’s a song I know well. I hear the song in my mind:


“Years keep going past
found myself alone . . .
farther from my home”


Seger laments his struggles in his life, how he’d been let down by friends, taken wrong turns, finds himself alone, a long way from his home.


“still runnin against the wind,
I’m older now and still runnin
against the wind.”


I find myself putting my life experiences into that movie, that song. I’m not sure if I’m Forrest or Jenny. Both ran. Both ran to outrun their memories and their pain. At the end, they were together. Their home was with each other.


I run almost every day. As I run my mind replays the days and nights with my ex. We too, were like “peas and carrots”. Like Seger’s song, there were times when I “guess I lost my way”. But, I always found myself home. I don’t have that anymore. Like Forrest I’m running alone, trying to outdistance the memories of my life with the only woman I’ve ever loved. No matter how many steps I take, how many laps I run, how fast I sprint down the backstretch, I can’t outrun my memories and my broken dreams.


I know there will come a day when my run stops. They’ll be a day when I don’t have to keep striding down the track to stay a few steps ahead of my memories of her, of our life together.


So I keep running. I’m free when I run and life is as it should be. The fences here no longer exist. The painful memories fade. The wind is at my back.

Christmas in Prison

I’ve been thinking a great deal about Christmas. John Prine, a truly gifted songwriter and storyteller, has a deeply moving song called “Christmas in Prison”. It never meant a great deal to me until I actually found myself behind the fence.



For so many in here, Christmas is the saddest of all days, a painful reminder of what has been lost. 2008, I suffered terribly as I spent Christmas alone at the Henrico jail. The meal was terrible; I was depressed, disoriented, and feeling without hope. It was the worst Christmas I ever experienced and I found it hard to believe that there were any “tidings of great joy” in store for me.


Perspectives have a way of changing. Last Christmas wasn’t quite as bad. A minister friend sent me a fold out nativity scene. I unfolded it and displayed it through the holiday season. Each day, I saw that cut out with the gold banner above the manger that said “for God so loved the world”. It didn’t matter to me that my wife had divorced me, that my sons had broken off communication with me, that most of my friends had abandoned me, or that I had been treated harshly by the courts. I felt a sense of hope just by looking at that small, cardboard manger.


I put my nativity scene up the other week. Since then, guys – a few dozen – have stopped and looked at it. “That’s beautiful man.” “He lives brother.” “Thanks for reminding me we gonna be alright.” I smile.


I’ve really thought a great deal about the meaning of Christmas. I used to love Christmas. I’d buy dozens of gifts for my wife and kids; I’d buy gifts for all my employees. We’d entertain, have dinners out, enjoy the season with family and friends. Every holiday season I’d watch my favorite Christmas movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life”. I’d choke up and get teary-eyed, as I’d watch Jimmy Stewart contemplate taking his own life rather than face criminal prosecution and bankruptcy. The movie always had a happy ending. Jimmy Stewart’s wife, knowing the kind of man he was, rallied to support him. Friends and neighbors poured into his home and helped him. At the end, his “guardian angel” left him a simple written message: “No man is unsuccessful who has friends.”


Movies are wonderful, that movie especially. Unfortunately, movies don’t mirror life. My wife certainly didn’t play Donna Reed (of course, she’d tell you I’m no Jimmy Stewart). The number of my friends who stood by me dwindled from my arrest to my conviction. Today, even some of those few stalwart friends from early in my incarceration have also fallen away. Unlike Mr. Stewart’s guardian angel, mine left me a message that said “suck rocks loser!”


Still, I’m looking forward to Christmas this year because I’ve had an epiphany. That may not be the correct word. I didn’t suddenly discover some exciting truth. Rather, for the past few weeks I’ve come to a few profound (in my mind anyway) conclusions.


The first thing I realized is that sometimes we get so hung up and worried about what’s going on that we forget the good circumstances right before us. I read an interesting piece the other day that used the story of Moses being told by God to return to Egypt and lead His people to the promise land, initially reacted with fear and trepidation.


“Look at what is in your hand.” God told Moses and at that his shepherd’s staff turned into a snake. The point was we fear moving forward, doing what is right (notice I didn’t say doing what we want or what’s expedient) because of our worry and fear of the future and our regret about the past. Yet God tells us “Trust me. You have everything you need to get through today.” And don’t forget Moses had fled Egypt years earlier after killing a man.


It is difficult to let go of regret over past failures, past hurts, and heartbreak. But, each day I now remind myself no matter how bad things seem, I’m not alone. I’ve figured out, by fits and tears and so much heartache, I have a purpose in being here. No matter what happened “BA” (before arrest); no matter the pain over the divorce and my sons, and my continuing court struggle, I know what is in my hand.


The second thing I’ve learned these past few months is “shalom”, peace. The whole world seems to be going crazy with war, rumors of war, economic upheaval, turmoil in the lives of individuals, and communities and nations. Somehow, I meditate each morning and sleep soundly each night.


Guys ask me almost daily how I can seem so content, so easy going and relaxed in this environment. “Man, you’ve lost more than any guy I ever met yet you’re always smiling.” There’s a wonderful story about the Apostle Peter, on the verge of being executed, he was in a prison cell fast asleep. “An angel of the Lord” sent to break him out had to first wake him.


I’ve found a sense of inner peace amidst the storms and chaos of my incarceration and divorce. It’s bizarre really, but like Lt. Dan confronting God during the hurricane scene in “Forrest Gump”, I had my argument with God. I told him exactly how I felt about all the crap and obstacles I’d faced growing up, all the desires I had to be loved that were ignored, all my dreams I had put aside for others (I’ve written a short story about a guy having this argument with God though I’m not quite ready to share it with my “editors”) and at the end of all the yelling, all the “why did this have to happen”, I experienced a sense of peace I had never known.


Things might not be as I want, but I have faith, in the end, all will turn out right.


And finally, I realized Christmas really is “for God so loved” us. I always equated God as a super-Santa: “He knows when you’re sleeping; He knows when you’re awake . . . so be good for goodness sake.” I heard a young minister recently say “we think God thinks about us the way we think about us.” In other words, when we’re having a good day, God’s happy with us. And when we lie, steal, decide to end our marriage, He’s upset with us. I realized nothing was further from the truth. God loves us, period, no matter what.


More than that, I now understand that on my worst days, when I stole and then came home and lay beside my sleeping wife in tears knowing my entire life was falling apart, at that precise moment God had compassion for me. He loved me, He loves me, unconditionally.


That realization has allowed me to look at the men in here, and folks outside, in an entirely new way. God doesn’t prioritize sins. He doesn’t say “stealing is level 15, murder level 55”, and anger at our spouse, “level 3”. We all sin, we all screw up, we all hurt each other and ourselves. Even Mother Teresa admitted in an interview “I’m far from perfect”.


Yet, God loves us. He loves us no matter what. I think that is what Christmas is really all about. From the beginning of our existence here on this orb we’ve been screwing up. And for years, our Creator watched it all and got upset because His children were wayward. Then He did something inconceivable, and illogical, and irrational. He loved us, in spite of ourselves, He just loved us.


My favorite Bible story is the parable of the prodigal son. There’s one particular verse that stands out. The son has lost everything. His life is over. He decides to return home and beg for forgiveness. “And while he was still a long way away the father saw him and ran to him and kissed him.” The father didn’t need an apology. He didn’t need to pile on and refuse to forgive his son. He just kissed him and loved him.


That story sees me through every day. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done, God still loves me. He loves all of us. There is always hope, always tomorrow. Christmas really is an amazing day, even in prison.

Lt. Dan

I watched “Forrest Gump” on TV the other night for about the 100th time. I love that movie. My favorite scenes involve Forrest and Lt. Dan, his commanding officer in Vietnam. As you know, Lt. Dan comes from a family with a long military history which, we find out, involves some relative dying in every war the U.S. has ever fought in.



The unit is out on patrol and they’re ambushed. The North Vietnamese are everywhere, bullets and bombs hitting men on every side of Forrest. Lt. Dan calls a retreat and Forrest runs. He’s out of danger, but alone. He can’t just run away. He goes back, over and over, rescuing wounded men. He finally goes back for Lt. Dan who cusses him. He wants to die on the battlefield, it’s his fate. But, Forrest saves him anyway.


Next time we see the two men, they are in a military hospital. Lt. Dan has lost his legs. He is angry and blames Forrest. “I should have died out there with my men”. Forrest, always the sweet, gentle moron, just lets it roll off him.


For the next hour of the movie Forrest and Lt. Dan cross paths again and again. Lt. Dan’s life is in complete turmoil. He is drinking heavily, let’s himself go and is awash in bitterness. However, with nothing else to do, he shows up in the Gulf and helps Forrest run a shrimp boat. That too, proves a failure until he calls out to God. A tremendous hurricane strikes while the boat is out at sea.


Lt. Dan, at the height of the storm, yells at God, “You’ll never sink this ship!”! The next day the sky clears, the shrimp are plentiful and a calm, at peace Lt. Dan looks Forrest in the eye and says “I never thanked you for saving my life”. As Forrest points out, Lt. Dan made his peace with God.


I’ve had my own “Lt. Dan moments” these past two years. You build your life, head in a particular direction, and anticipate how it will work out. Then, whether by your own doing or having circumstances suddenly thrust on you, your life is in complete disarray. You wonder, “what the hell am I gonna do? How did I end up here?” You panic, fret, worry, fear, and yes, get bitter over the circumstances you find yourself in. And, you replay over and over the whys, and hows, and what ifs of your life.


I think I like Lt. Dan because he’s so, well, human. He is just like each and every one of us as we struggle day to day to get on with life. I’ve had my moments when I’ve called out God. Like Jacob, I wrestled God and ended up bruised. I’ve been like Job asking how can a loving God let all this happen?


And, just like Lt. Dan, Jacob, and Job, I’ve found peace. It’s a peace that comes from discovering that no matter how badly things go, no matter that I can’t make sense out of all this, I’m not now, nor ever been, alone. God’s always been there, even when I was stealing, even when my heart was breaking over the loss of my wife. I don’t know how, but I’m a better person than I was before my arrest.


Fact is, I had a wonderful life. I loved, with all my heart, my wife. I have such beautiful memories of her and our time together. I wouldn’t trade away any of that. I’ve been told by well-meaning people to “get over her, move on”. I’ll never get over her. I will always love her, always pray for her happiness and well-being. In spite of all that has happened between us, I consider my time with her as a blessing, an amazing gift from God.


It took my arrest and conviction for me to be reminded of the merciful, loving, hopeful person I used to be. As I told Big S last night, had it not been for this experience, my arrest, two men would still be languishing in prison. “Pilly” a nice Mexican man would still be here not back in his native Mexico, if I hadn’t been here and taken the time to review his paperwork and discover DOC had miscalculated his release date.


Had I not been here, “Mr. W”, dying of pancreatic cancer, would still be here instead of home with his wife and daughters during his last months on earth. I’ve discovered the true meaning of Joseph’s words to his brother when they were reunited – and reconciled – in Egypt. As he welcomed and forgave them, he said “you intended this for evil, but God brought about good.”


Which led me to another eye-opening observation. I’ve discovered that as well-meaning and caring a person I tried to be “BA” (before my arrest), I quite frankly was also – excuse the vernacular – an asshole. It wasn’t too difficult to recognize. I was, after all, a big fish in a little pond. I was brash, opinionated and very sure I was correct. I knew in my core, I was right. And, because of my outgoing personality people just naturally accepted what I said.


Don’t get me wrong. I was good at what I did and I devoted a great deal of time and effort to helping others. But I did it on my own terms. I thought people just needed to suck it up and work harder. Their background, their baggage, was irrelevant. Then I cam into this salad bowl of human genes and conditions and saw a whole world I had ignored.


James, in his New Testament epistle warns believers to not be so hung up on a person’s appearance. He also notes that no one can completely follow the law. Therefore, we must be merciful, not judgmental. As we show mercy so shall we be shown mercy.


I never thought a great deal about that until I ended up in this dump. It’s a funny feeling to be thanking God for the blessing of losing everything.


At the end of the movie, Forrest is getting married to the woman he loved all his life – Jenny. It’s a bittersweet moment because you know Jenny is dying. Off in the distance you see a man approach, walking toward Forrest. Forrest runs to him and says “Lt. Dan, you got new legs!”(“Titanium; just like on the space shuttle”).


Sometimes it’s not just your legs that get replaced. Sometimes our trials give us a new outlook, a new heart.