RePost Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Salisbury, NC [you'll pass right by on I-85 North heading toward Durham] is not a large town yet has an above average African-American population; my son, was educated in the public school system with a mere 35% Caucasian attendance. This statistic never affected nor bothered our family in any way; people are people and if one "treats others in a manner in which they wish to be treated" one always fits in. Justin truly cherished his nickname “white chocolate”. Every year his teachers commented how well he fit in, was looked up to by his peers and did not “see color”.
I will never forget when, at the age of 10, Justin approached me in his childhood innocence asking if we had any African American relatives. He looked so determined, so wistful in the desire for the [right] answer. I briefly thought about Justin's words, and replied, “Probably so honey I would never discount that somewhere in our lineage we have the opportunity to be related to people from many different ethnicity's.” I never forget and always cherish the look of joy on Justin's face; how my answer to his question brought such a huge smile of pride to his face.
Our family has known Ty and his family for many years; he and my son became ‘fast’ friends after meeting in the second grade. During school events, birthday parties, sleepovers and sporting events we grew to know and love Ty as a shyly quite, intelligent, athletic, artistic, caring and naively unassuming young man. Michele, Ty’s mother, did her best raising four sons without a father figure; her mother lives on the street, a crack addict. She worked two jobs while attending classes to raise her sons in a warm and loving home. I remember asking her once, “When do you sleep?” She replied, “Rarely.” An inspiration to me Michele was determined to offer her children a better life; the love and respect her son’s have for her is beautifully apparent. A female cousin and her daughter share a home with Michele; not only for monetary assistance but also for there to be a parental figure with the children as much as possible.
On a beautifully quiet fall evening in Salisbury, NC in 2006 there came a knock at my front door around 10:00 P. M.; I distinctly remember the time, my naive understanding of reality changed upon answering this particular knock. I found Ty’s aunt standing there sent to deliver a message from Michele, she was at the Concord jail house could I please help, Ty had been arrested and needed bail money. I remember feeling so helpless as if the breath had been knocked out of me I love Ty as if he is my own child. I had just relocated back to Salisbury due to a divorce; I had no job, very little cash, my son had just entered his freshman year of college and I had forfeited monetary assistance from my former spouse. Suddenly a bail amount of six thousand dollars may has well have been six million; although had I the money I would have gladly entrusted this family with these funds.
Ty had been arrested for his alleged involvement in an attempted robbery with one of my son’s former classmates who is known for his temper. The other young man, was carrying a gun and the male victim was lured to the location of the crime by this young man's younger sister. Ty was standing away from the car of the alleged victim when the [other] young man jumped into the front seat and demanded money. The victim said, “No!” In an act of intimidation the young man pulled out the gun and laid it on the car seat; with his hand the victim knocked the gun off the set into the floorboard with his hand. The gun went off and a bullet lodged in the victim’s leg!
So began a horribly sad saga for Ty’s family…Michele would call me crying, begging me to speak to the police and attorneys on her behalf. Sadly, because of my ethnicity the authorities would listen to me and divulge far more information than they would even share with Ty's Mother. Ty had never been in trouble [this was a first offense]; however, there was a fire arm involved so he received a sentence of three years. The two other assailants, brother and sister, were far more involved in the events leading up to the victim being lured and ultimately shot but their mother is a Bail Bonds person. He received the same sentence as Ty; he and his sister, who lured the victim and eluded the police for several days, received a 15 to 24 month sentence. There is something very wrong with his judicial decision.
I promised Ty I would write to him often and so began our support, encouragement and a closely loving child/parent relationship. In the beginning his letters were so sad I would find myself crying as I read them. I have always been considered a motivator and my letters to him were meant to uplift him from his dark place as well as an attempt to assist him to work through this horribly difficult time of which I had no true knowledge.
I too found myself in an extremely precarious place; divorcing after twenty four years at the age of 51 my normally enthusiastic, positive, ‘glass is half full’ personality spiraled into deep depression. I can not count how many times I looked forward to checking the mailbox for Ty's letters or how many times his letters saved me from my own self pity.
Early in his incarceration [while being held in county lock-up] he could phone me collect and I could hear the fear in his voice at times he would begin to cry. In the background I could hear other inmates screaming and yelling; he said this went on nonstop! I was so afraid for his safety and welfare yet there was absolutely nothing I could do to change his path. Ty’s early letters were filled with great sadness and denial. He devoted much of his time pursuing a way out; putting so much effort into ‘urban myths’ there were ways to shorten his sentence. When he came to the realization there were [no short cuts] to his reality he spiraled into a very deep and dark place. His letters were often filled with self loathing and self pity that he had ruined any possibility of a future life for himself, his son and his family.
Ty was not easily convinced that his mistake would not haunt him for the remainder of his days. Once he began to settle into the ‘hand he was dealt’ he began to read, study and learn. It took some time but Ty began to have goals and dreams for his future instead of dwelling in the reality of his present. Ty’s letters poignantly expressed a child growing into a man behind prison walls. During these long and slow passing months Michele thanked me many times for sticking with Ty, about a year ago she said, “I am not a letter writer, he sure looks forward to your cards and letters.” This is about the time when I made the decision to keep every letter and card he sent me so I could place them in a notebook for him to have and read; should he ever again doubt he does not have a wonderful life.
The letters offer a glimpse into how the lives of two people from extremely different backgrounds become so intertwined. I know Ty’s life, as well as mine, will never be the same for in our letters we surpassed age, gender and racial barriers to support and encourage each other through individual struggles to maintain our sanity.
I believe the content could offer other young men and women who need advice or guidance to stop and think about how the consequences of ones actions quickly change ones life. What Ty has shared with me regarding prison life should be shared with every young person; not always the case his letters express how his experience has made him a stronger and better person. From behind prison walls his letters to me were always filled with his attempts to free me from my self imposed prison. We have both come full circle, happy with whom we are growing into and beginning to find contentment with our circumstances. When I compare what I have endured to what Ty has endured I know with out a doubt I have a wonderful life.
1= I, 4=Love, 3= YOU!
