Jumping Off (Guest Post by Ester Jean)

During the first couple of years Michael was in prison, I likely sent him only a handful of letters.  He kept writing, and I kept setting his letters aside.  When he found out I was a blogger and lived half my life in cyber-space, he jumped at the opportunity to propose this idea to me – this blog project.  I didn’t know what to think.  Does he know the internet is forever?  I had no idea that this project would blossom into a part-time [unpaid, thus far] job, an up-and-coming graphics company, and a way to connect with people all over the world.  I also had no way of knowing that it would create a real relationship with my brother to replace one that was practically non-existent before. 

Here’s the deal.  When someone has his own blog, he thinks, ‘Hrmmm, I think I will write something today’ and clickety-clack on the keyboard, hit “post” and he’ll read the comments later. 

This is why we call it a “blog project” instead of just a blog: I get out of work, go to the post office, check the mail, get mail from Mike, read it, make a note on the envelope about what’s inside of it, later I’ll type up the piece, look up pictures to go with the post, copy and paste the typing from a word-processor to the blogger form, upload the pictures, edit the post, post the post, post the link to the blog on my Facebook page, post the link to the post on J.J.’s Facebook page, keep coming back to respond to comment and questions, copy comments and questions, paste comments and questions in a letter for Mike, monitor Facebook for goodies left on my wall and J.J.’s about his posts, look for new followers, check on our stats, do lots of copying and pasting and screenshots so he can get the feel for what everything looks like, write and let Mike know what the hell is taking so long for this to post or that to post, research whatever the hell screen-printing is and how much it costs and who all does it and who can offer me the most bang for my buck, spend a few hours studying the process to apply for a trademark (legal jargon!  FUN!), apply for trademark… um… Shall I move on? 

I also sink a good little bit of dough in printer cartridges for sending him updates, which arrive at the prison in big fat packages for everybody to get excited about.  …And the stamps…. 

I got a letter from Michael just today, in which Scottie wrote directly to me for the first time.  He writes this darling, full page of sweet encouragement and what a difference I am making, then at the very bottom in this tiny, tiny block lettering, it says, “P.S. By the way, could you please send Mike some stamps ‘cause he’s using the shit out of mine.”

Stamps are a hot commodity and boy, oh boy, can we go through some stamps!

This is a project because nobody is making money, nobody is profiting in a material way [yet!].  This is a beautiful thing.  …Well, to me, of course, and to Michael.  We certainly know there are plenty of people who don’t approve of Michael’s liberty to exercise freedom of speech while he is incarcerated, and Michael wouldn’t have that freedom except through me (well – I’m sure he’d find a way if it weren’t for me, just patting myself on the back there…).  So I’m a bad guy too, if we are just paying attention to the haters.

There is another way Judicious Jailbird has changed my little part of the world.

I started this job.  A real life job, not the “project.”  …And we do the whole get-to-know-co-workers thing.  That’s always a shy, peculiar sort of experience.  I am particularly shy because I just dropped out of college, so I’ve got that going for me.  And on one of many smoke-breaks I take with a co-worker of mine, we’re talking about the future, talking about college, talking about jobs that don’t require college, etc.  You know – smoke-break kinds of things.  And at one point I felt on the ledge.  At a jumping-off point.  …That split-second when you’re about to open your mouth to say something, but you’re suddenly unsure if it’s OK to say.

She asks something like, “What do you do in your spare time?”

“My brother is in prison.  And we are working on a blog project together.”

First, who the hell is expecting to hear that? Second, who admits they have a brother in prison?

This girl. 

(I'm kinda vain - has anybody caught onto that yet?  Good.  Moving on...)

This might not sound like any kind of an issue to you, reader, because you’re sitting at home or at work or at a local coffee shop or in a grass hut somewhere reading a prisoner’s blog.  But to, you know, other people, this might just make them take a step back and go, “Say, what?”

Say what, indeed.

So my jumping off point here, and the start of a good change in my life, was openly talking about having a brother in prison.  …And loving him.  …And caring about sharing his voice and his great skills in artistry.

Know what I hear 80% of the time?  “Oh!  Wow!  My husband [father, brother, son, uncle] is/was in prison!”

I wonder how often people talk about their family members and loved ones who are locked away.  I wonder how often people feel safe talking about that.  There’s a weird feeling when you’re about to tell somebody.  How does that reflect on me?  I mean, I’m not in prison.  I didn’t get caught do anything wrong.  But what are they going to think of me/my family/my loved one if I admit that this is for real?  …That this is a real part of my everyday life?

I loved that first day when I took a leap, and I got a positive response, an interested, curious response, a response that opened a doorway for talking about something it’s kind of taboo to talk about in polite society.

Since then, I have received messages from people who talk about their loved ones who have been or are still incarcerated.  I love getting those messages.  I love being one person they might feel safe talking to.  The funny thing is that once I opened up about it, so did my friends. 

Ever go to the lake with a group of friends late at night, when it’s been dark and cool, and the water sets a deep chill through your toes right when you step in?  You know that feeling when the first person, without consulting anybody, without warning, dives in head first?  It makes you feel OK to go ahead and dive in yourself.

Our loved ones don’t need extra shame from judgmental people on the outside.  They’re doing their time.  They are still our brothers, your fathers or sons, your friends or husbands.  They also face the futures - the planning, the credit card applications, the job hunting, the goal-setting, birthday parties – we all do.  They are still here.  They don't need to be hidden. 

 My brother blesses me with long letters filled with pages of encouragement.  We talk business, we talk about our goals and dreams, we talk about the future, home-buying, job-hunting, college classes, current and future children, we talk about sex, friends, marriage, our parents and siblings.  I write to Michael almost every day, and he gets every part of every rollercoaster-ride day I’m having - my sarcastic, cussing, bitchy sense of humor, every complaint my mind comes up with about my job or money or whatever is going on in my world….  He doesn’t try to advise me unless I ask, he doesn’t tell me what I should be doing, doesn’t guilt me when I have huge gaps in between posts, he just keeps writing page after page of encouragement, on top of writing posts for J.J. and drawing artwork and keeping in touch with friends and family.

He built this for me with his bare hands:

*(Isn’t that nice?)

I want to challenge you to do something.  Do you know anybody [other than Mike] who is in prison?  I do.  Is someone you love behind bars?  Have you told anyone?  Will you try?  …Try with the most casual tone you can muster up, as if you’re saying, “I’m going to lunch with my husband and getting a cheeseburger.”  Or “I had my annual check-up yesterday and it didn’t hurt a bit.”  Or “My brother is in prison, and I’m working on a blog project with him.” 

*Copyright Michael Smith, 2011.  

All rights reserved.