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A Letter for the Future

2/11/2015

Dear nephew,

I won’t pretend to know the entirety of your life or the things you struggle with. I’m certain, in the absence of your father, grandpa has done his best to raise you as an upstanding young man. Listen well and learn from everything he has to say, my dad knows what he’s talking about more often than not.

I’ve seen you grow in a dozen pictures and it amazes me how time pours like sand through a bottomless bucket for those periods you wish would never end, but stands frozen for the bitterest of things. Remember this when your childhood is gone and you’re old enough to know regret.

Anyway, there are some things you need to know. Maybe you’ve already discovered them on your own, but I feel it is my duty as your uncle not to leave such things to chance. What I want you to know has nothing to do with race, though there are plenty of people who will argue otherwise. In this instance I’ll let your own experience guide your perspective. It is my hope, though, you’ll not divide the world into a black and white one. Be colorblind even as others are not, dear nephew, and you’ll be better for it. See people for who they are – not what they appear to be.

There are three things it is imperative you understand.

Prison is a black hole that sucks in anyone unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do your best never to visit the wrong place. The penitentiary is full of people who make stupid, arrogant, irrevocable, and sometimes evil choices in their lives, but they’re still human beings. Whatever the cause, once you’re incarcerated it’s extremely hard to get out and stay out. Society will not make it easy for you to leave this pit where millions of lives are dumped and destroyed. Few are willing to teach the inhabitants a better way. Few are concerned with equality and justice. Do not think the system operating our country’s prisons is in any way for your benefit or the greater good of crime reduction and public safety. These false faces obscure the not-so-subtle purpose inherent in every government – dominance and control. Punishment has its place in our world, but it need not come with the price of disenfranchisement, total isolation and death. My first piece of advice is that you discover the answers to your “what ifs” without engaging in any crime. You will find that consideration toward the impact of your behavior goes a long way in avoiding prison.

Life is hard and full of suffering. Expect and embrace it whenever this occurs, but do not wallow in self-pity. Remember that even as you grieve your lot there is another who is worse off. Return to this thought as routine dulls the senses and blind you to circumstance.

Death is a final bastard, nephew. He cares nothing for mortal plans or life in this world. His sole purpose is to take and take and take some more. His touch is inevitable. Age, health, and religion are meaningless human constructs to Death. He is the balance of the abundant life on Earth. Be humbled by this great equalizer, because ‘here today gone tomorrow’ is not a cliché. It’s Death’s calling card. My second piece of advice, nephew, is that you live and cherish every moment, take no breath, joy, or sadness for granted.

There is a purpose for your life. Maybe you have found it. Whatever the case, know it’s a divine purpose. You are a single thread in a grand tapestry only God can see. You have value and your life has meaning even if you can’t fathom it. If you don’t believe it doesn’t matter – He has no need for your permission to exist anymore than Death. God maintains the scales, dear nephew. No matter how you identify Him or which path you travel to reach his throne, know the only existence where God’s light is hidden is the one where you’ve turned your back. Divide the human aspect of religion from the divine grace of God and you may come to know His will for you in this world. Seek, nephew, with all your heart, mind and soul. Strive to understand as much as you can for as long as you live and I promise you’ll be among the best of men.

This is my advice to you. It’s the best I can possibly give. I hope that when you read this letter in the years to come it enriches you in some small way.

With much love,

Your uncle Lyle

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Good Things Never Come Easily

2/10/2015

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I dropped out of high school and into a sea of chaos because it seemed better than fighting what felt like the useless struggle of getting an education. Immaturity, drugs, and other distraction played roles in the decision to quit, but a lack of personal investment in my future and no effort were the central problems. It’s why I went through multiple stints in the reformatory, drug rehab, and an asylum. I had no clue who or what I wanted to be or what I needed to do with my life, and without any anchor – relying on stupid teenage logic set me on the fast track to prison.

My problems seemed so all-encompassing and insurmountable that it never occurred to me I walked away from the solution in my sophomore year. How could an education be the answer? School officials determine the subjects, and besides – what the hell do graphs and ancient Mesopotamia have to do with getting Angela and Teresa to go out with me? Why should I care what Bill Clinton does or about distant stars in the Milky Way when a high score in Mortal Kombat awaited me at the 7-11?

Not until prison did I realize the subject wasn’t the point so much as following through with the work and completing the task. The ideas of success and achieving worthwhile goals were as alien as envisioning a future, though. It is why I never managed to get a license, own a car or apartment, or maintain a job. Losing these and other freedoms has shown me how easy it could have been to live a simple life, but it also awakened in me a desire to learn.

Luck and divine intervention pushed me into the arms of a sponsor willing to invest in how I spent my time on death row. He offered the chance to enroll in a college correspondence course and, having nothing better to do, I accepted. I was seven years removed from a GED and at the time the decision seemed inconsequential, but looking back I now realize it was my unwillingness to learn that mattered. Without that, no change in my life would ever have occurred. Striving and self-confidence wouldn’t have permeated my thoughts any more than reconciling the past, present and future.

I demonstrated my gratitude and desire to improve with good grades. It may be a small thing, getting a good grade in school, but it measures interest, aptitude and comprehension. In any subject a good grade reflects the student’s intent to reach the end game and win. At least they do for me. I lost at the game of life and failed in most things because I ignored obvious lessons at home and in school. Good grades, now that I had a second chance become symbolic of my will to change from the person I used to be.

Good things never came easily.

Just because I wanted to change does not mean other people were willing to help. I was very fortunate to have stumbled into one person willing to believe in me while I serve my death sentence. There were no rehabilitative programs or access to state-financed education, not since Clinton eliminated Pell grants for lifers in the mid-90s. Certainly not for anyone in my position.

So I began taking college correspondence courses, loving material on various aspects of psychology, philosophy, and English. The exams were the only thing that scared me, but once I developed a method of preparation – something I never had in junior high or high school – they were no longer as frightening. The trouble came from other sources, people who seemed determined to disrupt the steady flow of what I came to know as “my studies”.

At first they were small things; delayed or lost lessons, lost exams I had to retake, misplaced books that needed to be tracked to the mailroom, rescheduled exams and interrupted exams. Then two major events occurred that really tested my level of dedication to pursing an education in the face of opposition.

The mere idea of psychology in law fascinated me as soon as I saw it offered in the university course catalog. Not only was capital punishment a topic of discussion, so too were some basics as forensic psychology, mental health defenses, criminal profiling, the fallibility of witness testimony, confessions, lie detector tests, and other related subjects. Finally, a course that spoke to my experience and dealt in topics related to my confinement. IT might not give me every answer I sought, but the information would improve my comprehension of psychology, the law and how they’ve converged with my life.

At this point in my pursuit of an associate’s degree – six courses from the required twenty – I knew this was about more than something to keep me busy. I enjoy the field of psychology for its common sense explanations of complex human behavior and how every time I finished studying another textbook it made me feel intelligent. School never provided that sense of rightness, but it wasn’t like I took an interest in listening either.

Four weeks after I mailed the first Psychology in Law lesson it was returned to me. By now this was a common routine in which I was used to seeing As and Bs on my work. The days of shoddy, lackluster performances were over. It didn’t surprise my parents that the trend of good grades continued throughout all of the courses, and it pleased my sponsor enough that he continues to fund my education. When I unfolded the lesson it took a moment to register what I saw, then queasiness curdled my stomach.

Holy shit.

An ugly red F marred the corner of the top page. Below it a single sentence: “You’ll have to do more than write a few words to get by in this course.”

The roller coaster dropped as I scanned every page, looking for any indication of mistakes. There were no other marks or comments. I read the course syllabus again. My essays were the required length and contained the appropriate responses. This had to be wrong. Some student aide must be screwing with me. It couldn’t be the professor. It took a few hours before I was calm enough to write my professor and ask him to explain the grade. I also mailed the second lesson, trying to maintain my schedule.

A month passed before the graded lessons were returned. I expected vindication, my work was worthy of no less than a B. I came to know the value of my effort since beginning these correspondence courses. It took a few years, but my ability to achieve the goals that involve understanding new subjects was certain in my mind. I did not and do not doubt it. I pulled out the first lesson and saw the grade remained unchanged so I dropped it on the floor and looked at the other one.

My hands didn’t grow clammy and there was no roller coaster. Instead, bitterness stung the back of my throat and twisted my lips. Another road block. I clenched my jaw until I could grab my pillow, pressed it to my face, and screamed in rage. The second F mocked any thoughts of control. No other marks or comments marred the second lesson, which contained a lengthy pro and con essay on capital punishment. Only the professor’s signature.

The second F represented half of my lesson grade since there were only four in the course. Even if I did well on the mid-term (which was unlikely at this point) I would probably fail the course and waste nearly $800 of my sponsor’s money. It felt like a violation of trust I earned through a lot of work. Not that he would be unforgiving – my GPA was a 3.6 – only that I loathed the idea this failure represented an old way of life. One I’ve struggled to leave behind, but couldn’t seem to overcome.

Maybe I used to be a person who quite school because it was too hard. Maybe I ran away from my problems again and again until they finally buried me. Perhaps I was a delinquent kid who ignored a lot of good advice. Had I still been any of those things the grades on the Psychology in Law lessons would be signs to give up because trying is a ridiculous idea on death row. I would never have been confident in my ability to succeed in anything, or fight back against the opposition.

The professor couldn’t support his grades with any reasonable argument, and I wrote as much to my academic advisor, asking him how to initiate the grade appeal process. His response was not to get my hopes up because my professor was the chair of the psychology department. It was not a reassuring moment.

The appeal took the form of a two-page letter to the dean of the university and explained my position along with the two incorrectly graded lessons. Normally, the appeal would not go to the dean, but the CPI director ignored my appeal because of the professor’s status. Plus, I was just an inmate, who was I to question a tenured department chair?

I continued studying and took the mid-term exam. Within a month, lessons three and four were mailed and I received a shaky but passing grade on the mid-term. Two weeks later lessons three and four were returned, the fast turn-around was a surprise. I feared looking at them since there had been no answer about the appeal. Unfolding both sheaves of paper I snorted. They were As. No other marks or comments. The essays I submitted in these lessons were of the same length and quality as the first two. There was never an explanation from my academic advisor or the dean.

I passed the Psychology in Law course, but it wasn’t the last obstacle. On my final course of the associate’s degree I faced a similar issue with a grade appeal. This time it involved an exam. I was given a failing grade on a course credit exam (no lessons, just a test). It was a business law elective this time, and there were plenty of comments from the professor. Since I had failed by only one percentage point I asked the professor to review the exam in the event he missed something. The exam itself had been multiple choice, definition, essay and short answer questions, covering 26 of 54 chapters in the text. It was not easy to prepare for, even less so when the exam did not meet the description in the course syllabus. I was disgusted and angry over the 59, but I had nothing to lose in asking for a review. Not when that one point would cost me another year before I could graduate.

Like the psychology course I won the appeal for the Business Law grade and graduated when I was supposed to. As exhausting as both experiences were they showed me I had to believe in my ability to learn and strive the reach the hardest, most contested goals – even the improbable ones. The professors may have thought to make me quit, or maybe they played a deeper game, but neither mattered any more than my incarceration or death sentence. I know now that good things in life don’t fall into your lap, trying is essential to triumph.

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A High School Grad Speech

2/10/2015

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Greetings fellow graduates! How does it feel to be free? A relief, isn’t it? Maybe a little unsettling; like something is lurking around the corner? If I’m going to be honest, and I really believe I’ve earned that right, I’m not sure how some of us survived this place. I’ll stop short of calling high school a horror house replete with Leather Face, but let it not be said it was easy, peaceful, or pleasant. I mean come on, if you can make it through four years of continuous pressure from parents, teachers, counselors and peers without some sort of alcohol or drug problem then you my friend are special. So special, in fact, I suggest you go through four years of college, two more years of grad school, and an internship at some mental hospital because, frankly, you belong there in a strait jacket.

I want to pretend the world is a nice place where you’ll be accepted by everyone despite your difference. You won’t be alone – there are plenty of odd balls out there. The bottom line, whether you continue your education or not, is that your will determines the future. My parents always tell me I can be anything and do anything I put my mind to – I believe them. It goes the other way too. If you don’t get your mind on something you’ll be nothing. Fail now and a bad grade won’t be the issue – you’ll face poverty, homelessness, addiction, disease, imprisonment, and death. Failure means you’ll be incapable of taking care of your children, providing a safe home for your family, or maintain a sustainable future. Failure means throwing away your education and doing nothing with the obstacle course you just completed.

There’s no need for me to give this long speech about positive crap you can do with the rest of your life. If you already know what you want it doesn’t matter what I say. If you don’t know, like me, you’re gonna have to figure it out on your own. Life is already hard and I doubt it will get easier. I think school was meant to be difficult because it’s a sample of what’s to come. Having said this – respect the journey and enjoy the final carefree days you have left before making your way in the world. Thanks and good luck!

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A Middle School Grad Speech

2/10/2015

Somebody asked me to give this little speech and I have to tell you it terrifies me, but not as much as the cafeteria food or exams. Anyway – bear with me.

It feels good to be on top. Everybody looks up to and envies your place. Teachers stop thinking that maybe you’re too young or stupid. Remember Ralph Emerson’s first day? Shortest kid in the sixth grade. Everyone thought he wandered over from Coffin elementary during recess. Now he’s grown half a food and will be starting running back from the Brunswick Dragons. Still the shortest kid I know, but man Ralphy can run!

Next year we’ll all be the short kids in school. Some will feel lost and have to scrape and claw for respect and elbow space; others will breeze on through as they normally do. All of the expectations from the ‘rents and teachers will be the same, but college is on the horizon. It’s something we got to think about during four years of tests, essays, books and stress. On top of that there are all of the joys of being a teenager. You know, curfews, girls, prom, and your place in it all. Try not to get so caught up in the day-to-day B.S. you forget to enjoy yourself.

High school may feel like forever, but if we blink it’ll disappear and then . . . Well we’ll all be adults making adult decisions. What I’m saying is time flies when life happens. It’s why Fridays in social studies are spent daydreaming about the weekend and homework rarely gets done before Sunday night. Try not to get lost in high school. We go to study for the rest of our lives. What we do and whether it is enough really matters – especially if you plan to attend college. If not, then whatever, keep your sights out of the gutter. Don’t worry about where you fit in or what your friends are doing – do you. That’s all you need to know. Do fulfill your dreams and heart’s desire. Make it worthy of your future and everything else will follow.

A Letter for the Future

Good Things Never Come Easily

A High School Grad Speech

A Middle School Grad Speech

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