I am a proud dad
Today a few co-workers and I visited a men’s prison and all the inmates at this prison were wearing t-shirts that said “I am a proud dad.”
We were there to kinda tell people in a low-key way about our program and to do arts and crafts with kids and their parents.
I didn’t know really what to expect. I knew it was going to be somewhat involving Christmas since it’s relatively close to the holidays (but not really that close) and it’s going to be families and kids visiting but nothing really hit me until today.
But I guess I should set up the story first.
So after driving for about an hour to the bus-depot with one of co-workers, we check in at a station where we see families being patted down, going through metal detectors, raising their ponytails, emptying their pockets and taking off their shoes before passing through. I suddenly realize when earlier a woman who spoke to us about the emotional toll that children of incarcerated parents go through said “for once I am glad that 9-11 brought such security measures because kids are more and more used to those things at the airports…at the ballgames…” We do none of this and walk straight through. The families have already wrapped their presents for their fathers. All presents must be approved and inspected by the department of corrections staff which obviously puts a severe limit on what sort of gifts can be given. Many families opt on just not giving anything rather than giving socks or a deck of playing cards.
We then get on a bus with the rest of the families, a few other volunteers and prison guards and go to a ferry dock at which point we have to check in with the prison facility staff. Apparently despite signing up for this weeks in advance, i’m nowhere on the list as is another co-worker of mine. Some sort of a mix-up. Their lieutenant gives the go-ahead, however, after doing a run-through of our driver’s licenses. Maybe they checked if i’d committed a felony in the past seven years. We board the ferry and it’s cramped with those chairs that you sit on at always see at any church with a congregation of over 300 people. I get a little seasick. The families look anxious, nervous. One woman next to me says her husband doesn’t deserve anything but a “lump of shit” for Christmas but she’s bringing her daughter so he can see her at least.
We get off the ferry and we walk about 3/4 a mile to the prison. They do a strict head count on our way out and in to make sure that everyone is always accounted for. Once we get inside what looks like a cafeteria gymnasium, we see that it’s decorated in Christmas colors. There is food waiting to be served. The fathers meet with their families and there is a lot of emotion. I stare at one family in particular. The father is crying and he takes off his glasses. His son isn’t reacting too much and I can’t see his wife’s face. I wonder if they’re taking it as hard as he is.
Lunch is served and Christmas carols are sung by a volunteer. Christmas presents, which are brought by the families are opened and to my surprise, it turns out that almost all of them are for the children. And I guess as it should be, it’s their own Christmas that they’re celebrating there. I wonder how the presents are paid for, whether the toys are donations that the inmates select from a toy-tree and then get to wrap for their kids or what not but the kids seem happy.
Several of the kids run to our table to inquire about the crafts we have going on (many of them come with their fathers) and we help them try and work on building it. Some of the father daughter, father son pairs that come to the table are thrilled trying to make the best of the time they have together. They are comfortable with each other and having a good time. It is obvious that others are not. One girl I remember seeing on the ferry who looked particularly withdrawn is in the latter.
Towards the end, one of the volunteers leads the room and specifically the children in a pledge saying something to the effect of “I’m a kid who has dreams and I can do anything to reach those goals because I work hard and nothing is going to stand in my way. Nothing is impossible!” He means well.
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One of the most powerful things that the woman who presented to us regarding children of incarcerated parents and society’s treatment of incarcerated individuals was that routinely she could chart a father who was in prison X and his son who is in prison A while his wife was in local prison Z for women. And then their young son is in a juvenile detention center.
Seeing this today struck a chord because when you have a loved one, particularly a family member who is incarcerated…the chances of children from that family in turn being incarcerated (among other things like violent behavior, not graduating high school, etc) skyrocket.