Wedding Bells

Mark Reese and Patty Brand are to be married today in the Gazebo at 14OO Willow. They picked David Aram up at the airport last night but I haven't heard anything since. David will be giving the bride away. Yardhog will be "best man." Immediately afterwards there will be a reception at the Pee Wee Reese Room at the Audubon Country Club. It should be a wonderful evening.
     A bizarre mistake in the entertainment section of today's Courier. Gordon Brisker, who died two weeks ago, is listed as playing with the Dick Sisto trio tonight at the Seelbach. Maybe they are having a seance.
     My class at KSR last night went beautifully. The prisoners read their papers on the first two chapters of Sherwood Anderson's "Winesburg Ohio." And there was passion in their prose. It's amazing to hear their reactions to Anderson's classic stories.
     KSR looks like the "land of broken convicts." Going through the security check yesterday I had to wait while two prisoners in wheel chairs were processed. One held his artificial limb in his lap while a guard removed his hand-cuffs and chains. There must be some mindless bureaucratic rule that all prisoners, even the disabled must be handcuffed. Out in the yard men limped past me on crutches and walkers. One man in a wheel chair asked me what I taught. When I told him he said," My wife has a Masters Degree in literature from the University of Kentucky." A strange sad world.

Fenced In

Mark Reese and Patty flew into town yesterday on the early morning "redeye" flight. They'll be here all week for their marriage on Friday. Yardhog will be best man, D is maid of honor and the great David Aram will be giving away the bride.
     All this comes at a opportune time for he Hog since he was quickly falling into the abyss. Black twirlies were gathering around him.
     So far, the prison classes are not having the same effect as last year, although I may need to give it some time. Walking in the yard last night I noticed the numerous "warning signs" everywhere I looked. "Restricted Area," "No Communication with Prisoners in This Cell Block," "Failure to Comply Will Result in Disciplinary Report." No wonder these guys don't like to read.

Prose Power

A good turn out for my second class at KSR last night. Twenty students read aloud from their papers assigned last week that included their most intense moments and thoughts on Mongo Bear Wolf's "Man in his Cocoon."
     I was told when I first started teaching at KSR that the prisoners were secretive and would not want to read their papers out loud to their class mates. Quite the contrary. In three years I've had only a couple of students who complained. It really is a catharsis for most of them. And once they get started look out.
     Last night two of the men actually wept during their readings. One fellow wrote about his beautiful wife who died of cancer in front of him and his two children. Another wrote about his dead mother who he adored. The others wrote about their crimes or seeing their children born. All of the writing was heartfelt and all the men listened in respectful silence.
     What they witnessed was the power of prose. Carefully written, emotional descriptions of the their lives that at times approached poetry.

Boots and Cowboys

Twenty-one new students in my class last night at KSR. Thursday night the class is split between regular and Tech students. I seldom can tell the difference. I'm always amazed at how deferential they are during my opening "lecture." And when I give them their first writing exercise, "Take 30 minutes and write down your most intense life-time experience. That moment when you felt most ALIVE," they go nuts. Sometimes I feel like the most intense moment in their lives was when some crazy professor asked them to write down and then read out loud to their fellow classmates their most intense moment.
     One older, gray haired man in a wheel chair kept looking at me while the others were writing. Finally he said, "Your wearing cowboy boots. Do ride a motorcycle or a horse." "Neither" I said, I just find them to be comfortable. "Yeah I know, I used to wear them every day before I went to prison," he said.

School Days

"I have discovered that most people have no one to talk to, no one that is, who really wants to listen. When it does at last dawn on a man that you really want to hear about his business, the look that comes over his face is something to see."
                           Walker Percy
                           "The Moviegoer"

     Nineteen students showed up last night for my class at KSR. Let's see how many stay when they find out they'll have to do a two page paper after each meeting, plus read it aloud to their class-mates. I explained to them that my classes are like jam sessions and everyone will have a chance to solo.
     Walking by the large, imposing brick building with broken windows that serves as the "hole" at the prison last night. One of the inmates yell's at me "Hey, you a preacher man?
In a way, I guess I am.

Prison All The Time

ADDENDUM:

     I've always thought that working for state government and the prison system had a lot of similarities. Like every morning I have to unlock three large doors to gain access to my office. And there are always several prisoners from the state rehabilitation center working on the grounds in their distinctive brown prison garb.
     Today I had a further confirmation. I was driving through the guard shack at the base. Each time I pass through there I have to show my picture I.D. to a female soldier dressed in camouflage, despite the fact I drive the only blue sports car in the agency, wear three ear rings and always wear a loud Hawaiian shirt. Today when I was asked for my i.d. I gave her the one I use at the prison that has a photo of the Kentucky State Reformatory prison tower coming out of the back of my head. "JCC Professor" it says officially. Although the prison secretary that made it for me three years ago wasn't really concerned. "What do you want on your I.D. Sir? "Oh, JCC Clown," I might have told her. Anyway, when I showed the guard my card she smiled broadly and said " How about that, I'm a security guard at Luther Luckett Prison. Been there nine years. It's a small world."  I thought I recognized that lady!