Simple Things/ Lang Kenneth Haynes
Best days: Oakhill Correctional
Institution
Best days: Oakhill Correctional
Institution
One nice thing about best days is that they often pop up when they are least expected. They are the veritable silver linings in clouds. They force us to smile
and feel hopeful on days when we feel like we'll never smile again.
I'd like to tell you about one such day. It was about four years ago. I was working in the Dane County Executive's Office. It was a great job and a very stressful
job. Maybe part of the stress came from the fact that I often try to make everything come out right for the Universe and all the people in it. An impossible
undertaking and not necessarily altruistic because delving into the problems of others is often an excuse for avoiding the things we have to deal with in our own
lives. In any event, on the day I want to tell you about I was assigned to give a congratulatory speech on behalf of the county executive. The speech was to be
given at the Oakhill Correctional Institution in the village of Oregon.
These occasions provided me the opportunity to speak from my heart. I avoid prepared notes whenever possible. I am often reminded on 1990 when I was
doing some consulting work for a foundation that continues to be devoted to children and their families. I was to spend three days with some heavy-duty judges,
university professors and juvenile justice wizards at a fancy mountain retreat in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was more than a little intimidated at the prospect, so I tried
to gather additional information right up to the last minute. I went to the home of a person I know and respect who had worked with institutionalized delinquent
boys for several decades. My intention was to pick his brain for every last morsel of information to supplement my experience as a survivor of New York City
housing projects and later as a city of Madison police officer. My friend looked at me quizzically as I tried to extract every scintilla of juvenile justice wisdom
from him. He looked at me and said, "You know everything you need to know." His words had a profound effect on me and taught me that sometimes the
challenge is not to merely accumulate more information but to find a way to relax and let your wisdom bubble to the surface.
I drove south on Park Street past the neighborhoods where I had spent many wonderful and tumultuous years. I drove past the library and the Kohl's food
store. My memory tried to recall all the different businesses that had come and gone from the Villager Mall. Then I continued south past the entrance to the
Beltline to the MM exit to Oregon, then took an immediate right to drive the short distance to Oakhill. I had the disquieting thought that maybe South Park Street
fed the institutions that were represented by Oakhill. I drove past the grounds of the Sprite Program, the Oregon Prison Farm and finally drove up the long and
winding driveway that led to Oakhill. The wide-open fields stretched out in contrast to the fences that were adorned with concertina-razor-wire that marked the
entrance to the central administration building. I checked in and met the inmate who would drive me to the building on campus where I would give my speech.
My driver arrived. He was enormous, twice as wide as I am and I'm no lightweight myself. I had to laugh. His vehicle was an enclosed golf cart. I commented,
"Nice ride" to which he responded, "Yeah. I put it on every morning."
I walked into the large room where the speech was to be given. I was to congratulate about two hundred men for having recently graduated from programs
such as horticulture, building trades and culinary arts. Some had recently completed GED and HSED requirements.
I remembered what my friend had told me: that I knew everything I needed to know. Here's what I told them:
"I'm here today without any prepared words and I am here with the understanding that one difference between you and me is that I happened to turn left
instead of right on a given day. Another very significant difference is that I can walk through the front door and leave this place whenever I please. You can't and
that freedom and lack of it marks a huge difference. Now here's the speech.
I want to congratulate each and every one of you. I know that's what you expect me to say, but the real deal is that I mean it. I'm talking to you straight from
my heart and I have no reason to tell you anything other than what I see as the truth. And the beauty of it is that anything I say that has the possibility of having
truth attached to it comes from someplace inside of me and it will resonate or vibrate in me the same way it will in you. As I already mentioned, I am free to
leave this place whenever I choose. I am obligated to ask myself what I plan to do with my freedom. Thank you for keeping me honest.
I congratulate you because you confronted a fear and moved beyond it. Maybe it was the fear of not being able to read and you danced around that hole in
your life for years and then admitted to yourself that being a non-reader was getting in the way of a lot of the things you wanted to do. Things like being able to
write letters to your kids and other loved ones. Things like being able to read books to your kids when you get out. I don't pretend to know what motivated you but
the fact of the matter is that you were honest about something that was missing in your life, you figured out how to make up the deficit, you sought the help you
needed to do what you had to do, and you put in the time and study and frustration that's part of learning anything — and you prevailed. So I congratulate you
because you prevailed when confronted with what all human beings are faced with time and time again. And you prevailed because you stared your fear in the
face and walked through it step by step.
We all arrive at places in our lives where there are essentially two choices. We can do the thing we're in the habit of doing — good, bad or indifferent— and
realize the same result over and over. For example, if you throw a ball against the same spot on a wall, time and time again, the ball is likely to return in the
same way. If you lashed out the last time you got frustrated and you ended up in jail, that can hardly be a surprise since you ended up in jail the time before that
when you responded the same way when your frustration level was pushed to the wall. So what you have all done is to equip yourselves with new tools to deal
with the old stuff that smacks us upside the head repeatedly as long as we live. You've decided to throw the ball at a different spot on the wall of life to ensure
that it doesn't come back to you in the same place in the same way.
And by reminding you of these things, I'm challenging myself to take an honest look at and deal with the things that I do over and over with the result being
that I realize the same limiting, unsatisfying results over and over again. Complaining about these things is useless. At best, the practice puts you in the company
of people who are stuck in the same place who lack the courage or foresight to do what has to be done which is to stand in front of that scary threshold, take a
deep breath, then step into a world that is beyond anything you've ever known. When I walk through the gates when I leave this place, I'll have to ask myself what
things hold me back from realizing whatever it is I say I want to have in my life. For example, I can come up with one thousand reasons why money continues to
be a problem for me. Doesn't seem to matter if I live in a small apartment or a big house. Doesn't seem to matter if I earn a small salary or a big one. I've adopted
a way of dealing with or avoiding money that gives money permission to avoid me. I throw the ball at the same spot on the same wall in this regard. Money
represents only one of the thresholds that I need to cross in this life. There are many others, but I believe the beauty is that many of these things are connected in
ways that defy the faulty logic I apply to many things out of habit.
So I left Oakhill with my head swirling in a good way. I was reminded of the responsibility that comes with freedom, the freedom to walk through prison doors
in both directions. Now, the challenge before me is larger and more ominous than ever before. How do I balance power with humility with the understanding that
balance is essential? At least it is to me. I don't serve anyone properly, and certainly not myself, by making myself smaller than I am. And on the other hand it is
imperative, to me, to not become the kind of person I detest — a person who is drunk with their own power. Even the best days are laced with the essential
question which gently coerces us to define which star we are in the constellation of life.
and feel hopeful on days when we feel like we'll never smile again.
I'd like to tell you about one such day. It was about four years ago. I was working in the Dane County Executive's Office. It was a great job and a very stressful
job. Maybe part of the stress came from the fact that I often try to make everything come out right for the Universe and all the people in it. An impossible
undertaking and not necessarily altruistic because delving into the problems of others is often an excuse for avoiding the things we have to deal with in our own
lives. In any event, on the day I want to tell you about I was assigned to give a congratulatory speech on behalf of the county executive. The speech was to be
given at the Oakhill Correctional Institution in the village of Oregon.
These occasions provided me the opportunity to speak from my heart. I avoid prepared notes whenever possible. I am often reminded on 1990 when I was
doing some consulting work for a foundation that continues to be devoted to children and their families. I was to spend three days with some heavy-duty judges,
university professors and juvenile justice wizards at a fancy mountain retreat in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was more than a little intimidated at the prospect, so I tried
to gather additional information right up to the last minute. I went to the home of a person I know and respect who had worked with institutionalized delinquent
boys for several decades. My intention was to pick his brain for every last morsel of information to supplement my experience as a survivor of New York City
housing projects and later as a city of Madison police officer. My friend looked at me quizzically as I tried to extract every scintilla of juvenile justice wisdom
from him. He looked at me and said, "You know everything you need to know." His words had a profound effect on me and taught me that sometimes the
challenge is not to merely accumulate more information but to find a way to relax and let your wisdom bubble to the surface.
I drove south on Park Street past the neighborhoods where I had spent many wonderful and tumultuous years. I drove past the library and the Kohl's food
store. My memory tried to recall all the different businesses that had come and gone from the Villager Mall. Then I continued south past the entrance to the
Beltline to the MM exit to Oregon, then took an immediate right to drive the short distance to Oakhill. I had the disquieting thought that maybe South Park Street
fed the institutions that were represented by Oakhill. I drove past the grounds of the Sprite Program, the Oregon Prison Farm and finally drove up the long and
winding driveway that led to Oakhill. The wide-open fields stretched out in contrast to the fences that were adorned with concertina-razor-wire that marked the
entrance to the central administration building. I checked in and met the inmate who would drive me to the building on campus where I would give my speech.
My driver arrived. He was enormous, twice as wide as I am and I'm no lightweight myself. I had to laugh. His vehicle was an enclosed golf cart. I commented,
"Nice ride" to which he responded, "Yeah. I put it on every morning."
I walked into the large room where the speech was to be given. I was to congratulate about two hundred men for having recently graduated from programs
such as horticulture, building trades and culinary arts. Some had recently completed GED and HSED requirements.
I remembered what my friend had told me: that I knew everything I needed to know. Here's what I told them:
"I'm here today without any prepared words and I am here with the understanding that one difference between you and me is that I happened to turn left
instead of right on a given day. Another very significant difference is that I can walk through the front door and leave this place whenever I please. You can't and
that freedom and lack of it marks a huge difference. Now here's the speech.
I want to congratulate each and every one of you. I know that's what you expect me to say, but the real deal is that I mean it. I'm talking to you straight from
my heart and I have no reason to tell you anything other than what I see as the truth. And the beauty of it is that anything I say that has the possibility of having
truth attached to it comes from someplace inside of me and it will resonate or vibrate in me the same way it will in you. As I already mentioned, I am free to
leave this place whenever I choose. I am obligated to ask myself what I plan to do with my freedom. Thank you for keeping me honest.
I congratulate you because you confronted a fear and moved beyond it. Maybe it was the fear of not being able to read and you danced around that hole in
your life for years and then admitted to yourself that being a non-reader was getting in the way of a lot of the things you wanted to do. Things like being able to
write letters to your kids and other loved ones. Things like being able to read books to your kids when you get out. I don't pretend to know what motivated you but
the fact of the matter is that you were honest about something that was missing in your life, you figured out how to make up the deficit, you sought the help you
needed to do what you had to do, and you put in the time and study and frustration that's part of learning anything — and you prevailed. So I congratulate you
because you prevailed when confronted with what all human beings are faced with time and time again. And you prevailed because you stared your fear in the
face and walked through it step by step.
We all arrive at places in our lives where there are essentially two choices. We can do the thing we're in the habit of doing — good, bad or indifferent— and
realize the same result over and over. For example, if you throw a ball against the same spot on a wall, time and time again, the ball is likely to return in the
same way. If you lashed out the last time you got frustrated and you ended up in jail, that can hardly be a surprise since you ended up in jail the time before that
when you responded the same way when your frustration level was pushed to the wall. So what you have all done is to equip yourselves with new tools to deal
with the old stuff that smacks us upside the head repeatedly as long as we live. You've decided to throw the ball at a different spot on the wall of life to ensure
that it doesn't come back to you in the same place in the same way.
And by reminding you of these things, I'm challenging myself to take an honest look at and deal with the things that I do over and over with the result being
that I realize the same limiting, unsatisfying results over and over again. Complaining about these things is useless. At best, the practice puts you in the company
of people who are stuck in the same place who lack the courage or foresight to do what has to be done which is to stand in front of that scary threshold, take a
deep breath, then step into a world that is beyond anything you've ever known. When I walk through the gates when I leave this place, I'll have to ask myself what
things hold me back from realizing whatever it is I say I want to have in my life. For example, I can come up with one thousand reasons why money continues to
be a problem for me. Doesn't seem to matter if I live in a small apartment or a big house. Doesn't seem to matter if I earn a small salary or a big one. I've adopted
a way of dealing with or avoiding money that gives money permission to avoid me. I throw the ball at the same spot on the same wall in this regard. Money
represents only one of the thresholds that I need to cross in this life. There are many others, but I believe the beauty is that many of these things are connected in
ways that defy the faulty logic I apply to many things out of habit.
So I left Oakhill with my head swirling in a good way. I was reminded of the responsibility that comes with freedom, the freedom to walk through prison doors
in both directions. Now, the challenge before me is larger and more ominous than ever before. How do I balance power with humility with the understanding that
balance is essential? At least it is to me. I don't serve anyone properly, and certainly not myself, by making myself smaller than I am. And on the other hand it is
imperative, to me, to not become the kind of person I detest — a person who is drunk with their own power. Even the best days are laced with the essential
question which gently coerces us to define which star we are in the constellation of life.