Back in 1984 when I was in college I bought an issue of Rolling Stone and read an ad in the back from an inmate in an Ohio penitentiary. He was requesting pen pals. I was in Louisiana, and a bit homesick for my Ohio roots, and thought that I could relate to him, so I mailed him a letter. It turns out his ad prompted hundreds of responses, too many for him to actually be able to afford the postage to answer all, so he gave my letter to a buddy in jail and he answered it. We struck up a correspondence that lasted for years. He was doing time for distribution of marijuana at the time, although he was paroled and went back in for violating parole for getting in a bar fight. I like to think that my letters had a positive effect on him; at least he told me that they did. In 1986 when I became pregnant with my daughter, every single person in my life, including my daughter's father and my own mother, encouraged me first to get an abortion, and then later to choose adoption. Everybody except my inmate penpal, who encouraged me to have and keep my baby, and even offered to have his father send me money to live on (which I refused). I consider his words on paper to have been the turning point that made me cancel my appointment for an abortion at a New Orleans clinic, and I'll never forget sitting there in the dying winter sunlight beside the lagoon in Audobon Park, reading his words that told me yes, I could do this, make it as a single mom, raise a child that would be healthy and well-loved. It literally changed my life and I will forever be grateful to him for that.
This guy never asked me for money, and he often sent me little things he made in jail, a bracelet made from a stainless steel welding rod, a pair of moccasins, a braided anklet. and many, many beautifully hand-drawn cards. I bought him a pair of high top sneakers once, and that's the most I ever spent on him. I considered him my friend. When Hurricane Katrina struck in 2005, he was long out of jail and we had lost touch with one another. He went through the Red Cross and contacted me to find out if I was okay. He was a groundskeeper then at an Ohio country club, not making a lot of money, but he sent me $100 to help me through the recovery process.
I'm sure my case isn't typical, and that scams abound and people's motives aren't always pure. I can only relate what happened to me, and share my story so that people can understand that not everyone who is incarcerated is a vicious animal. People make terrible mistakes and errors of judgment every day, and some get caught and some never do. Simply being locked up shouldn't automatically mean a person is stripped of their humanity. Some can and do manage to be positive influences on others and contribute to society, and I think that they should be allowed the opportunity to do so.
