| We breathed each other's air and sometimes dreamed each other's dreams. The air outside the thick brick walls was only a little sweeter than the air inside -- maybe because we imagined the air outside to be sweeter. Maybe what we imagined was the difference between what was and what we envisioned as possible. Maybe beauty must exist inside of us before it has a chance to take on actual form -- to become real. Or maybe my mind played tricks on me. Devised games to keep me occupied on the inside. Games that magnified the glory of the freedom of the world on the other side of the thick brick walls and monstrously heavy green steel doors that slammed shut with sounds of fearfully incredible finality. I will be free one day. One way or another I will be free. And if this freedom comes while I am alive I will be left with the question of what I am free to do. The ankle bracelet -- genuine plastic, imagined, worn on the ankle or in the mind -- reminds me that my freedom is conditional. Conditioned on rules that do not make sense and are certainly not fair. Rules that are not followed by those who insist that I follow the rules that they change for their convenience and often without notice. I am trying to get in the mood to take on the admittedly presumptuous task of reviewing the thoughts, feelings and experiences of 20 courageous and generous people who obviously feel compelled to tell those on the outside what it's like to re-enter the outside world after periods of time that range from months in county jails to decades in prisons. The words that kick off this week's column were not written in prison. They reflect selected impressions from my days growing up in New York City housing projects. Sure -- housing projects represent confinement but some of them seem like the French Riviera when compared to prison. The contributors to this wonderful and important book essentially ask one glaring question upon their release and re-entry and that question is: free to do what? Many of the huge difficulties and the unparalleled strength and hope are unveiled in "The First Twenty-Nine Days" Compiled by Johnny L. Ellis and Abraham Rose Published by BookSurge, LLC Copyright 2006 His Rose, Inc. 133 pages To order copies, go to: www.booksurge.com Reading "The First Twenty-Nine Days" was a humbling experience and it is my hope that thousands of readers will be similarly humbled. The book resonates on many levels, the most significant being that there is resonance. The 20 courageous people who share their stories of re-entering the community after being incarcerated remind us that there is no "them" and "us." Like it or not we are in this together. The experiences of the formerly incarcerated people are a part of and not apart from our individual definitions of reality. Most people who spend time inside prison walls will eventually be released to establish lives on the other side of the walls. "The First Twenty-Nine Days" focuses on this incredibly difficult transition. It was sometimes hard to tell if I was reading the story of a man or woman for reasons that had to do with my own often erroneous assumptions. One of the contributors to the book talked lovingly and longingly about how much they missed their children and what they hoped life would be like when the reunification took place. The tenderness with which this section was written and the obvious love expressed for the children led me to presume that the author of this particular story was a woman. I was wrong. The story was authored by a man who survived the ordeal of prison because of his hopes and aspirations all of which revolved around his children. The book consistently reminds us that re-entry, of course, involves the formerly incarcerated person, but family members and the community are essential parts of the re-entry process as well. And since this is the case the writers give examples of ways that the "system" and the world outside in general help or hinder re-entry. An example of the latter is related to the universal needs of housing and employment. Formerly incarcerated individuals often find themselves in situations where housing conducive to positive re-entry is not available. In many instances the only available housing is in places that are laden with the array of problems, temptations and lack of legitimate opportunity that contributed to incarceration in the first place. In other cases, temporary housing at area hotels that are notorious for prostitution and drugs represent the only accessible housing. Many returning former inmates talk about returning to the community and staying with family members with the understanding that they will become independent in a short period of time. This is a circumstance in which the best of intentions only suffice for a very short time because it is often the case that the supporting relatives are surviving by a thread themselves and cannot afford the space, money or emotional support for as long as their loved one may require to regain their equilibrium in the community. To make matters worse the notion of re-entry is misleading at times. It would be easy enough to resume the types of activities that contributed to incarceration, but quite another matter to find ways to generate sufficient income legally. Just about all of the contributors to "The First Twenty-Nine Days" talk about the critically important role that Voices Beyond Bars plays in their re-entry in terms of the support that is given by people who have lived their experience as well as those who have undertaken the hard work of learning about worlds that they may not have direct knowledge of. Another hugely prevalent theme has to do with emotions and what to do with them. How do you deal with feelings of love when the expression of these feelings can be interpreted as weakness in environments inside and outside of prison walls where tenderness makes one vulnerable and vulnerability leads to death? What do you do with rage that you may experience for very good reasons? How do you separate out justified rage from intense anger that is often directed at the wrong people, and how can you understand then mold and direct emotions in ways that are constructive and not destructive? And how do you sort out this tangled mass in a matter of seconds because that's all the time you'll have to make a decision that will, among other things, determine if you will remain on the outside or return to prison. And by the way, anger management is not a panacea. It can be a useful tool, but the question of emotions and what to do with them is much deeper than managing anger. The contributors to "The First Twenty-Nine Days" provide honest and often painful answers to these questions. Madison-area Urban Ministry and Voices Beyond Bars provide a variety of ways to participate in the elevation of our common humanity and destiny. Read the book. Check out the MUM website. Participate in a MUM event. We have nothing to lose but our assumptions. In Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.'s letter from Birmingham Jail he wrote, "We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly." An excerpt from the preface of "The First Twenty-Nine Days" reads, "We are not just ex-convicts; we are mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, husbands and wives. We have been the child or grandchild of proud people. We have served our country, taught our children, worked with youth, saved lives." By embracing formerly incarcerated people we are embracing ourselves. |
| Simple Things/Lang Kenneth Haynes A Book Review: "The First Twenty-Nine Days" |
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