Wide Water

            In one of his first attempts at non-fiction, novelist Pat Conroy detailed his year teaching school on Daufuskie Island, South Carolina. Conroy, a graduate of the Citadel during the turbulent late 1960’s, chose a different path from most of his classmates. They chose military service and Vietnam, he became a teacher.

            “The Water is Wide” details Conroy’s year teaching poor, black students, descendants of the “Gullahs” who lived on all of South Carolina’s barrier islands. Daufuskie today is a retreat for the wealthy and privileged elite with multi-million dollar homes accessible only by ferry. You stand on the beach at Daufuskie and see Hilton Head Island to the Northeast; to the South lies Tybee Island and Savannah. These islands reek of money and success and whiteness; it is a far cry from Conroy’s time there.

            Conroy was changed by his year on Daufuskie. He didn’t survive the school year. The all-white school board located on the mainland, wanted nothing to do with Conroy’s ideas of exposing the island children to the world beyond their shores. And that, Conroy realized, was a problem. All these beautiful black children knew was life on Daufuskie. To the school board, that was fine. “The Water is Wide” is a metaphor for the figurative miles that separated theses children from a better life; it was also a metaphor for the distance that racism had created in the hearts of the all-white school board to the plight of the children of Daufuskie.

            I found myself thinking of Conroy’s story the other night as I watched Cubby get hauled out of the building and taken to “the hole.” He’ll be in there ten, maybe fifteen days and then they’ll ship him to a higher level – “3” or “4” – to finish his last nine months. Cubby – a cherub-faced twenty-two year old white kid – is a heroin addict. He’s “dirty;” at least once a week he spends $50 on a chapstick capful of heroin that he snorts and smokes. The heroin leaves him nearly incoherent and red-faced. He scratches and jerks and then finds himself violently vomiting for hours.

            “The Water is Wide,” so very wide. I know why Cubby uses. And, I know he’ll continue to use until he dies from an overdose. There isn’t anything DOC is doing about it. Yeah, they see him high; they piss test him; they throw him in solitary; and he gets out and finds the drugs – or the drugs find him – and he uses. He could die in here; heroin is a killer. No one will accept blame; no one – it seems is responsible; not DOC, not his mom. And all Cubby knows is the heroin helps him sleep.

            Last semester, the students were given a writing assignment. “Describing a life-defining moment.” And, in my job as TA, I read and reread the fifteen or so papers and offered style and grammar changes. I came to Cubby’s paper and felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

            He described how as an eleven year-old middle class boy, his life was turned upside down when his father – “his hero” – was arrested. He wrote, “I walked my dog at night around the neighborhood and wondered why my dad did it. Why did I have to lose my dad? What did I do to deserve this?” I read it and froze. See, my younger son was also eleven when I was arrested. And all the guilt I carry from letting him down overwhelmed me.

            So, I talked to Cubby, trying to understand his feelings over his dad’s arrest. But he looked at me and said, “Larry, you took money. You were, you are a good guy who screwed up. My dad was molesting my sister...” and he trailed off and I did the only thing I seem to think can work when these young men bare their souls to me. I hugged him like I used to hug my own sons.

            The water is wide, so very wide and swift. Cubby’s story described the first time he used heroin – at fifteen – and his father’s release from prison (after less than 30 months) and his inability to confront or hate his dad. I read and I hoped that his story would provide a catharsis and he would be healed and his pain would subside. But, he is too far from the shore and the water is wide.

            Cubby is one of dozens, maybe hundreds of addicts, I’ve met on this island. And all they know is the addiction. Cubby’s mother brings him pills when she visits she “knows” her son is suffering so she sneaks in pain pills every Sunday to “help him” relax. He gulps them down and fades … fades back into oblivion. And she’s killing him – or at least helping to – one handful of pills at a time. I wonder if she’ll feel responsible when her son overdoses, when he’s just another dead addict on the medical examiner’s slab?

            “He needs to just quit.” “He’s nothing but a junkie.” I hear it all the time here on my island. Hell, I thought it all the time when I lived “out there,” on the “mainland,” when the water was wide enough to keep me from such people, such things …

            We have a new college instructor, biology teacher, a sweet woman. She saw Cubby nodding off in class. She had to let him know the investigator needed to speak with him. Class ended and she approached me. “Will he be alright? I could tell he was in a bad way.” Her worry, her care and concern were obvious and so alien to life at this place. I assured her it wasn’t his first go-round with drugs and the investigators. And I told her he’d be all right – even while I don’t believe it.

            They’ll send him to a higher level and he’ll be preyed upon by some ruthless sociopathic inmate for whom a young man is nothing but fresh meat. And the demons that torment Cubby will grow and he’ll find more drugs and the gulf between the world “out there” and the pain in his soul lengthens because the water is wide, too wide for our humanity which seems in such short supply, to overcome.

            I had a GED student, TMac. He never amounted to anything in class. Forty-something and just obnoxious and ignorant. He would come in and out of school and no matter how hard I worked, how much effort I put forth, he just didn’t care about getting his high school education. So, I start working full time for the college program and I start teaching computer classes and I leave the adult basic ed students to other aides.

            TMac approached me the other day. He needed help filling out papers for a Richmond City program to get him drug treatment and counseling. And I was curt and short-tempered with him. “Why do you want my help now?” I said. He looked down and quietly said, “I’m an addict. I been here inside seven times. I can’t go back out and use again.” You ever feel like dirt on a shoe? Where had my humanity gone? The water, the wide gulf between this island and compassion, had – I feared – washed over me.

            “Am I my brother’s keeper?” DOC will tell you in here the answer is no. Cubby is just a junkie. And junkies rise … and fall on their own weakness. The water, the wide water, tells you that. I lay in my bunk the other night and prayed about Cubby and this seemingly impassable waterway. The separation on this island and these men – like Cubby – who only know what they feel. And what they feel is pain and shame and failure. That water is so wide and prison makes it worse. But there can be a bridge, a way across. Cubby has to swim, one stroke at a time; swim to shore and peace and self-awareness. I have to believe he can make it. I have to believe we all can.

A Father's Letter

To my precious sons –



I haven’t heard from either of you in an extremely long while. For me, it feels like a lifetime. Your mom censors what I write to you. I pass no judgment on her decision to do that. Ultimately, she will have to decide in her own conscience if her behavior throughout this time has been appropriate.


I use this posting to put on paper some thoughts I’ve had about our circumstances, what we’ve been through, what I’ve learned. My intention is not to justify “why” this happened. If you want the whole story you know where to find me.


No, my purpose is to share with you some life lessons I’ve learned throughout this process. I won’t criticize you or your mom. Fact is, I love you three deeply, more deeply than any of you can imagine. Not a day goes by that I don’t pray about you three. I only hope and pray that your lives are joyful and peaceful. If that means life for you goes on without me, I can live with that. From the moment I was arrested, every decision I made was to protect you and mom. I’m not proud of the decisions and behavior that led me here, but I look myself in the mirror every morning with a clear conscience knowing at the worst moment in my life, I did the truly selfless, loving things necessary to take of you three. You may not realize it now, you may never admit it to me, but it’s the truth.


And, truth is a funny thing. I’ve heard a great deal about lying and how important honesty is. Ironically, the people who talk the most about honesty, the people who tell you over and over how truthful they are, end up being the very people who can’t deal with honesty and who lie to themselves.


This experience has, in many ways, been liberating for me. Everything about my life is now an open book. Most people can’t say that. They hide behind secrets and pray no one finds out. Here’s the thing – everyone lies, everyone keeps secrets. Honesty is hard. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.


I’m not suggesting it’s OK to lie. But, before you hold your head up proud as a peacock and tell everyone how important honesty is, think back on all the little white lies you’ve told.


There are however, five traits that I think matter a great deal more.


They are courage, mercy, forgiveness, love and hope.


Courage means doing the right thing, doing the selfless thing, when everything is on the line and you’re afraid, so afraid that you can’t even see straight; yet, you still find the inner strength to do what has to be done even if it costs you everything. And, you hold no grudge. You don’t look back.


And boys, there are damn few people who are courageous. If you want to learn about courage, read about people who have been on the brink of losing all yet didn’t give up. It’s not courageous to get up, go to work, and be an honorable person. That’s expected. What is courageous is admitting when you’ve done wrong and willingly accept the consequences. It may not always seem fair, but no one ever said life was fair.


Courage means fighting through and overcoming fear and despair. My hope and prayer for you is you never have to come face to face with your or your family’s entire life at stake. But if you do, I know you’ll act courageously.


I never considered myself courageous. Fact is, I always felt like a chicken. But when things mattered most I found courage, I took more than my share of punishment. Almost everyone that claimed to love and care about me abandoned me. And still, I stood up and made sure you guys and mom would be protected. A great many people think I was foolish handling things the way I did. Even having gone through this, I’d still do the same thing today.


Mercy is so important and in such short supply. It literally means showing compassion to an offender. Here’s the thing. We all offend. We all hurt someone we care for. Mercy boils down to kindness, simply treating someone the way you’d want to be treated if you were in their shoes.


When I was in the jail, a young black man (your age “D”) came in strung out on heroin. I didn’t even know heroin addiction existed. I thought it was a 60’s and 70’s problem. Anyway, this kid was sick, as physically ill as anyone I’d ever seen. They couldn’t put him in a cell because he was constantly vomiting and losing bowel control. They left him on a cot in the middle of the day room with a bucket to puke in and soiled sheets.


His body physically craved heroin. It was, perhaps one of the saddest things I’d ever seen. This young man, shivering and sweating, unable to hold any food down, covered in his own waste. I sat daily with that kid. I made sure the staff got him clean linens and the nurses brought his medicine to him.


I’m not quite sure why I did it, I just know we spend way too much time judging and condemning each other when we should be offering a helping hand. I’ve spend a good deal of time reading and trying to understand the Bible. A great deal in there is about how we treat others is how God will ultimately judge us. I’ve learned it’s easy to think yourself superior, free of human failings and weaknesses. The fact is, we all screw up and we all need someone to lean on.


And mercy goes hand in hand with forgiveness. Boys, if you never listen to anything else I say, listen to this: always forgive. It is the toughest thing to do, and the most necessary, at least if you truly believe you’re a Christian.


When Jesus told Peter to forgive his brother seventy times seven, He meant it. Don’t hold anger, don’t be bitter. Forgive. We always want to condition our forgiveness, “If you do this, then I’ll forgive you”. Or, we say “I forgive, but I’ll never forget”. That’s not forgiveness, boys. Forgiveness is letting go, saying its over and forgotten. It’s about restoration and reconciliation of broken lives, broken relationships. It’s damn hard, probably the hardest thing you’ll ever do – I know. It’s also necessary.


For me, it boils down to this: “as God forgave you, so forgive others”.


Love goes hand in hand with all of this. But be careful. We say “I love you” way too easily when we don’t mean it. Love can overcome anything. Ultimately, life comes down to love.


I don’t buy the line “I used to love you, but I don’t anymore”. If that’s the case, it wasn’t really love. People we love hurt us. I’ve been on both ends of that as well.


I returned my wedding ring to mom. She told me I could keep it, but I didn’t see the reason. A wedding ring has no beginning, no end. It is given to represent complete, whole love. There’s a reason Jesus spoke over and over about not divorcing. Couples are supposed to love each other the way God loves us – unconditionally, even when we screw up. That’s what the vows mean.


Can you imagine God ever saying “I don’t love you anymore?” God wouldn’t do that. He loves us in spite of our failings. He never gives up on us. And, if we believe in Him, we are supposed to love the same way.


I’ll always love your mom and every day I’ll thank God for the time we had together and I’ll pray she is happy. I wish she hadn’t divorced me, wished she thought we could survive this. But, loving her means accepting what she’s done even when it broke my heart. She’s a wonderful woman and I feel truly blessed to have had her in my life.


Love is wonderful, but it’s also tough, the toughest thing there is. It requires patience, understanding and commitment. Most of all, it never gives up.


Finally boys, there’s hope. Hope is the same as faith. It’s knowing when you go through the valleys of life’s disappointment, failures, heartache, and loss that you’re not alone and you’ll get through.


I’ve had amazing experiences in my life. Some days seemed better than I could have ever imagined like the days you both were born. But other days have been worse than I can even express. And I won’t kid you and say I just got through them. I didn’t. I wondered how I’d make it and even if it was worth it. It was in those darkest, loneliest moments I found my faith and hope.


There’s a great Bible verse from Paul’s letter to the Romans in chapter 5, that I recite daily. It goes:


“…we also exult in our tribulations knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character, and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint . . .”


I try to live each day by those words.


No matter how bad things appear, no matter how lost everything seems, there is always tomorrow. You take each day as it comes and keep fighting, keep praying.


I have found so many blessings through this experience. I wish things were different, wish we were together as a family, wish mom and I were still married. Yet, still I am blessed.


Nothing that has happened, nothing that you do, will stop me from loving you. I’ve always loved you and always will. Just as with mom, even though we are apart, you remain in my constant thoughts and prayers.


Be kind to each other. Love and care for each other and your mom.


You are the greatest blessing and joy in my life.


Love,


Dad