I Met a Guy in Here …

I met a guy in here named Gary from Southside Virginia. He’s in his thirties and has a high school diploma. Problem is, he can’t read, write, do simple math, or tell time. Some school district around here decided it was easier to pass Gary on than try and educate him. Now, he gets a guy he trusts to read him letters his mom writes and then write her back.

            

School isn’t an option. Spaces are limited. He has a diploma so he’s ineligible. If he was the only man I met in here who’d been mishandled in school I’d be concerned, but he’s not. He’s one of dozens of Jaspers, and Juniors, and Rickys, guys who come from families who generationally lack basic education skills and who likewise generationally know all about prison. That makes me angry. They are the outcasts. It isn’t a racial issue. All the names I just wrote are white guys.

            

I wondered, as I finished reading Walter Isaacson’s biography on Steve Jobs – a guy who though caustic and intense saw a massive failure in America’s education system – how we expect people like Gary to buy into the “American Dream” myth when they are so far removed from it. There’s a whole lot of Garys out there, outcasts, and lepers, who are left out and they will eventually overwhelm the system. The answer isn’t to ignore them or shun them or worse, send them to prison. Am I my brother’s keeper? The answer seems obvious.

            

I met a guy in here named Dipper. That’s not his real name. It’s what the guys call him. Dipper stuck because he was known to take a dip of any drug. Crack or powder cocaine; heroin; PCP; crystal meth; embalming fluid laced joints. Dipper used them all. Don’t think that drugs have an effect on you? Talk to Dipper. He’s the embodiment of “this is your brain on drugs.” You know the old public service announcement where a guy put a frying pan on the stove and said, “This is your brain,” then cracked an egg in the pan and said, “This is your brain on drugs.” Dipper’s elevator doesn’t go to the top floor. He told me the other day, “I’m a frigment of my own imagination.” That’s right, a “frigment.”

            

It’d be hilarious except nothing in his prison experience makes him want – or need – to change. He is an addict and he will remain an addict. He’ll leave here in sixteen months and get high his first day out. And, he’ll stay high until he’s arrested again or worse, kills himself. If it was just Dipper you could say, “O well, lose one every now or then.” But Dipper is like most of the drug users in here. They just can’t stop.

           

I used to think (you know “BA” – before arrest) that drug addiction was just a matter of will power. Then, I spent three days watching a young man – a boy really, just eighteen – go through heroin withdrawal. His body craved the drug even as he convulsed and poured sweat; even as his bowels released and suffered from dry heaves. I realized it wasn’t will power. Will power is one of those self-righteous words we use when everything’s going right. Then, the storms of life hit and we come face to face with all our foibles and failures. Dipper’s an addict. Sending him to prison won’t change that. I don’t know what will, but it’s not this place.

            

I met a man in prison named Thomas. He’s a decent guy, the same age as my older son. The world didn’t deal him a fair hand. His father, a chemical engineer – was abusive. He told Thomas he wasn’t worth a damn. “You’re not bright. You're not motivated. You’ll never amount to anything.” It was worse for his younger sister. She was sexually abused. And no one paid attention. After all, they were a nice middle-class family.

            

Thomas became depressed and withdrawn. He started using way too many drugs. He started acting reckless, wanting to die. His sister quit eating and ran away more than once. Thomas landed in prison; his sister was given over to a loving aunt and uncle in Oklahoma.

            

Thomas’s time in prison wasn’t always easy. A young, skinny white kid makes a prime target for the predators. He fought a lot. But, he never lost hope; he never gave up. And his sister? She graduated high school and won a scholarship to a college in Oklahoma. Thomas leaves in thirty days. He told me he wanted to write me when he got out. I’m more of a father to him than his own dad, he said. I found that ironic. Thomas needed me in here to talk to as he struggled with his anger and hurt of his dad. My own sons go on without me.

           

“Get out and you lead a beautiful life. Be the man you know deep down you are.” I’ve told that to Thomas a dozen times. I’ve said it to other guys to get them to see they aren’t this place. Those are words I wrote to myself early on when life was crashing in on me in here. “Be the man you know you are.”

            

I have met hundreds of Garys, and Dippers, and Thomases in the past five years. Each of them has a story. I’ve met dozens of men who I don’t like, who have no remorse, take no responsibility for themselves or their actions, who have behaved in such violent, inhuman ways to warrant separation from society.

            

And then I’ve met others, those on the outside looking in. For them, prison isn’t the answer. It certainly won’t solve the problems that led most of them to end up in here.

            

I met a man in here … They’ve made an impression on me: their failures and their successes; their humanity. They shouldn’t be forgotten. They are the fathers, brothers, and sons of this nation.

Justice - A Thought

This past week Pope Benedict XVI made an emotional visit to Rome’s main prison.  The Pontiff – the spiritual head of the one billion member Roman Catholic Church – used his visit to call attention to the plight of the incarcerated.

“Inmates are human beings who, despite their crimes, deserve to be treated with respect and dignity…They need our concern.”

The Pope urged the government to “overhaul the system so that prisoners are not subjected to a ‘double punishment’ by serving time in insufferable conditions”.  And, in an even more eye-popping statement, he said justice is not just about righting a wrong, but also showing mercy.

“For God…there’s no just action that isn’t also an act of mercy and forgiveness, and at the same time there’s no merciful action that isn’t perfectly just.”

Pope Benedict called on the Italian government to ease prison overcrowding and have alternatives to detention.  The Cabinet followed with a sweeping prison reform measure that will release thousands of low custody offenders.

Where, I wonder, are the moral voices in this state and this country – a nation, ironically, who professes to be overwhelmingly Christian and yet misses the crucial tenets of the Savior’s message?

Prior to his death, Apple founder Steve Jobs explained his difficulty with Christians.  “Too many Christians”, he said, “don’t want to live like Christ”.  I’ve pondered that thought for months.  What, I wonder; would Jesus say about the men in here?  What would Jesus say about our society’s “lock em up and throw away the key” attitude?

It was Jesus who was imprisoned and condemned to death for healing the sick and lame, and spreading a message of mercy, grace and salvation.  I’ve discovered during these three and a half years that while society may condemn felons the Lord opens His arms to us.  There is a reason that prophets and psalmists and apostles stated over and over “He comes to set the prisoners free”. 

As the New Year begins I pray the leaders of the Commonwealth of Virginia and this Nation take the words set forth by Pope Benedict to heart.  Justice, without mercy, is not just.  Virginia’s prison system, America’s prison system, is inhuman and unChristlike.  It is time for a new way of thinking.  It is time to set many of us free.

Ryan, Magnetic and Others

In an excerpt from the late Steve Jobs recently published autobiography he explains his disagreement with Christianity.  Too many Christians, he suggests, don’t try and live like Christ and follow His teachings and instead focus on tenets of faith and belief.  I think Mr. Jobs may be on to something and it got me thinking about a lot of guys I deal with in here.

Ryan is in the top bunk next to me.  He’s rather short and a workout friend.  He’s built like a hobbit on steroids.  He also is an active practicing “Christian”, or so he describes himself that way.  He is constantly reading Bible commentaries, pouring over King James interpretations of verses, and looking up precise meanings of words from a Bible dictionary he keeps at hand.  He also attends Bible study and services three times a week.  And yet, Ryan is one of the most angry, distrustful, arrogant people I have ever met. 

“I don’t trust any of these scumbags,” Ryan told me the other day.  When I smiled he asked me what was so funny.  “I’m trying to remember where in ‘The Sermon on the Mount’ that line appeared?”  His curt response:  “Jesus doesn’t expect us to put up with a-holes.”  Somehow I think Ryan missed the entire point of the New Testament.

Then, there is “Magnetic”.   He’s a young kid who has become a philosopher.  He knows virtually everything (just ask him).  He’s toying with the “5%ers” philosophy (hence the name “Magnetic”, there is also “Unique”, “Dominion”, and “Sincere”, in the building.  They pick and choose various pieces of each religious philosophy like ordering ala carte at a restaurant).  Magnetic spoke often of “black Friday”, the day in the future when the oppressed masses overthrow the white majority.  “You’ll be fine Larry.  You care about us.”

Magnetic spouts forth Bible verses (and passages from the Koran) to support his logic.  It blew up in his face recently.  The college students (regular program) had intro to sociology.  Magnetic was enrolled in the class.  The Professor had effeminate mannerisms.  Magnetic announced in class that “God hates” homosexuals and therefore, he didn’t have to listen to anything the Professor said.  The instructor left word for the school principal.  “I won’t tolerate ridicule like that.  He’s out.”  The principal concurred and Magnetic was removed from college.  Yesterday he was moved.  Before he left he asked me if I thought he was wrong to try and uphold a “Biblical principle”.

I thought for a moment about my response.  I reminded him I’m in prison for a “theft”.  “Thou shalt not steal.  My marriage – a church marriage – failed miserably.”  So I asked him, who am I to judge whether that instructor is living right?

I think a great deal about the lessons, the requirements of faith, and the more I think about them the more I realize I didn’t know a thing about what God really requires of us.  Over and over I hear the words from the prophet Micah, “What does the Lord require of you?  Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly before your God.”

Guys in here – Ryan, Magnetic and hundreds more – put on a show.  They “philosophize” about the big complex questions of existence; they memorize prayers and verses; they recite rules and principles of conduct, and they miss the simple message Steve Jobs addressed:  they forget to live like Christ. 

And as I thought about that I realized prison isn’t so different from the real world.  If only we were more compassionate, more forgiving, more merciful.

The other week I received a letter from a man I’d never met.  He’d heard of my situation from a mutual friend and wrote a letter which contained among other things, an interview with the former Catholic Bishop of Richmond, a tireless advocate for prison reform.  It was a warm letter and touched me deeply.  This man and his wife did not know me, yet they wrote to bolster my spirits.  Perhaps Steve Jobs was a little too quick to miss the efforts of some to live a little more like God intended.