Ghosts

The other day during lunch one of the vocational teachers came into our chow hall and pulled two of his aides aside.  He told them that two hours prior a recently retired officer had committed suicide.  Mr. Townsend was a thirty year veteran of DOC.  He was a good, kind, decent man.  His death caught many of us by surprise.  We had no way of knowing the pain he carried.

We learned that Mr. Townsend’s wife was terminally ill.  Near death and hospitalized she would soon leave her husband alone.  The retirement had taken away his day to day purpose; he couldn’t bear to lose his wife as well.  Mr. Townsend’s son is in Afghanistan, again, in a war – like all wars – that has lasted much too long, caused more death and pain than success, and causes you to wonder, when will we learn?

Ghosts.  Mr. Townsend had ghosts.  And I prayed about him that night knowing that we all have ghosts, and we can’t let the ghosts rule.

On a recent documentary about James Meredith’s admission to the then all-white University of Mississippi, the narrator asked, “What is the cost of knowing our past, and what is the cost of not?”  I thought about those words a good deal the past day as I wondered why Mr. Townsend felt that all was lost.  His demons overtook him, and that is a tragedy.

We all have things that weigh us down.  In here, I see it everyday.  The vast majority of men in prison come from dysfunctional, uneducated, economically depressed homes.  Abuse:  alcohol, drug, home violence are common almost daily occurrences.  Stability is a concept alien to their life as is self respect and love.  And crime, feeling victimized, lacking remorse and empathy is the only way many of these men cope. 

So, they do horrible things, violent things, impulsive, reckless things and the carnage continues.  It’s strange when you hear someone explain shooting another person or beating them senseless.  And you wonder how do they live with the guilt, the shame, of their actions?  You look at the dullness in their eyes, the repeat trips to prison, and you realize they don’t.  Unlike Mr. Townsend, who placed a gun beside his head, these men kill themselves slowly.  And the results are the same.

Ghosts.  I lived with mine for a long time and my friends, they couldn’t tell.  That’s how it is with ghosts.  We see them every day, the guilt and self-loathing knowing we weren’t being true to ourselves, our better nature.  But no one else can see them.

There’s a great verse in the book of Isaiah.  The prophet tells the beleaguered, desperate citizens of Israel, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1)  It took me a long time to figure out what he was getting at.

It’s a simple message:  get going.  You can’t sit back in pain and self-pity.  Fight on, even when you’re hurting because God is with you.  No matter what, God has your back.  It is a wonderful, powerful message of hope. I wish someone had taken the time to share it with Mr. Townsend.

I write a great deal about this broken, desperate prison system full of broken, desperate men and the rubble that is their lives.  It is not a place to find much solace and hope.  And that, I think, is precisely the people and the place Isaiah was sending his shout out to.

I’ve had a weird week in here.  Amidst the polarization of the election, the damage of Hurricane Sandy, the fights and thefts and lies in this place, and the officer’s suicide, I felt as calm and at peace as I can ever remember.  Ghosts, I’ve learned, can be let go.  And, the past – and the present – don’t define your future.  Even for the guys in here, there’s hope.  Life doesn’t have to continue as it was.  And prison – not prison with walls and counts and years – the prison of our guilt, and actions, and fears, can be put behind us.

Dear Anonymous

I received a print copy of your 10/20 response to a recent blog about a “typical” week here.  I’ve been busy teaching my own class (yes, they’ve given me some independence to get guys ready for the GED!) and thinking about the election, but your comments deserve a response.

First, I appreciate you reading my blog.  When I started it two and a half years ago, my goal was to connect – in some way – with the outside world.  Too often, prison – with its security apparatus and “scarlet letter” understanding that “bad people are behind the fence” – isolates and alienates those incarcerated.  Simply put, we forget what its like out there.  Twenty-four seven we are watched and cared for.  We lose connection with decision making and those things that should matter in your daily life.

Compounding that, most people locked up come from less than desirable lives.  Drug and alcohol abuse, broken homes, poverty, lack of education, lack of stable employment, the list of social ills that most of the incarcerated have lived through is enough to teach graduate level sociology.  And I don’t say that to make excuses for people’s decisions. But, until we as a nation have the collective will to – as the words of the U.S. Constitution so eloquently state it, “provide for the general welfare” – tackle the manifest despair in poor, broken families, we will fail as a nation.  That’s not a Republican or Democrat idea.  If anything, it’s part of my faith journey.  “Am I my brother’s keeper?”  After four and a half years in here, the answer is a heartfelt “yes”.

As for your boyfriend not “sharing” the world in here, I understand that and I hope you do to.  I’ve noted and told self described “tough guys” in here that they aren’t so tough.  Many men refuse to admit they’re scared, or lonely, or just tired and ready to quit.  In here, that is a sign of weakness.  And too often weakness will get you in trouble.  I have something that counters the toughest.  From the day I was arrested inmates knew I’ been a lawyer, knew I had multiple degrees.  Knowledge, education trumps all the rest.  They fear that their ignorance will be exposed.

Your boyfriend keeps you from the “real” prison because, frankly, it’s not pretty.  For most, it is nothing but a waste of time and money.  And sometimes inmates behave in ways they know are wrong.  Getting by, getting along, sometimes is the best approach.

James Lee Burke is one of my favorite American authors.  He understands broken men better than many.  In one novel his protagonist said “the bravest and most loyal and loving people in the world seldom have heroic physical characteristics or the aura of saints.”

I love those words.  They remind me that you can be decent even in a depressed place like this, and love, friendship and loyalty can survive even prison.  I know that in my own life.  I am blessed to have a wonderful group of friends “outside” who have loved and upheld me in the worst of days.

As for your generous comments about my ex, I have a certain sad ambivalence about my divorce.  At some point in this past four and a half years, I had my “Lt. Dan” moment.  I yelled at God and demanded to know why, why was my punishment worse than my sin?  And it hit me.  God is sovereign.  He knows more than I ever will.  And if I truly have faith I have to accept the divorce, the rejection, the loss, as part of His plan to make me to be what He sees.

I hurt, I ache over the loss.  Fact is, I will always love her.  But, it’s OK.  In this – as in every part of this journey I realize I’m not alone and there are amazing lessons – and stories – for me.

Keep reading.  Keep the faith.  And, thanks for your comments.