海角大神

After reading 鈥淎 Christmas Carol鈥� and watching three movie versions (two in black-and-white) of the Charles Dickens classic, a group of inmates who took college classes from me (as part of a community-college outreach program) were moved to chronicle their own ghosts of the past, present, and future.

Are their stories what you would call "Dickensian"? Yes, I think so. Admittedly, guns didn't play a large role in any Dickens novel but street crime ("Oliver"), selfish neglect ("The Old Curiosity Shop"), regret ("Great Expectations"), and family disappointments ("David Copperfield") certainly did.

Here are some of the tales as told by my inmate-student.

An Urban Tale:听 A 28-year-old inmate was prompted to recall his own story of 鈥渨rong paths, regret, and pain.鈥� He wrote of 鈥渄isturbing memories鈥� that were 鈥渓ife-altering to myself and those close to me, and even to some people I never met.鈥�

鈥淲hen I was 17 years old, my grandfather 鈥� my best friend 鈥� died of a stroke in the back of a cab, because the cab driver didn鈥檛 think straight. Then I didn鈥檛 think straight.

鈥淚 was getting a shape-up on 152nd Street, when a homie burst in telling me I had to get right over to Lincoln Hospital. No oxygen was going to my grandfather鈥檚 brain. He was brain dead. I saw them pull the plug. That鈥檚 when something in me died.

鈥淚 blamed the cab driver for not going straight to the ER.

鈥淔or some reason he kept circling, while my grandfather met his lonely death in the back of a dirty cab.

鈥淚 remember changing clips as I dumped round after round into the cab base: two clips and an empty 357 later, I made my escape. That was the night everything changed. I had hit the dispatcher.

鈥淢ohawk, Oneida, Auburn, Elmira, Coxsackie, and Comstock 鈥� prisons, I remember them all vividly. Scrooge had his ghosts, I have mine.

鈥淚t鈥檚 pitch black, it鈥檚 raining, but I鈥檓 not getting wet.听 I鈥檓 shooting and shooting into the cab base. They鈥檙e hitting 鈥� they鈥檙e hitting my grandfather, but not piercing.听 The bullets come back and hit me, and they鈥檙e piercing.

鈥淚 shot away my teenage years, and my twenties. But I鈥檓 in a good place now 鈥� not 鈥檆ause I鈥檓 in prison but because of what I see for myself coming out.听 I鈥檓 distancing myself from old dreams."

Dreams that don鈥檛 die:听 An inmate who lost a brother to gunfire wrote of a Scrooge-like specter: the threat of a lonely death. Networking for him is a delicate process: 鈥淚 am too paranoid to befriend a new face and too cautious to trust a familiar one."

鈥淚 catch myself imagining he鈥檚 with me, walking and talking in a peaceful place. Happy. Nothing can harm us. Nothing to worry about. Then I realize that it鈥檚 not my brother, 鈥檆ause my brother鈥檚 shot dead. So this person is a demon playing tricks on me....

鈥淚f I hadn鈥檛 been away, doin鈥� my bid, I might have been able to talk him out of tryin鈥� that robbery; talk him out of carryin鈥� a gun. But I was in prison 鈥� on gun charges.

鈥淚 wish I could just close my eyes on that dream. Don鈥檛 have a good one to replace it.鈥�听

Dreams open eyes:听 Another inmate who lost his brother to gunfire is dubbed 鈥減reacher鈥� 鈥� mockingly by some in 鈥渢he general population鈥� (of the prison) and respectfully by his classmates. He lost his wife to cancer and yearns to prevent the preventable.

鈥淐ancer is a stray bullet. I couldn't do anything about it. But I have seen friends and neighbors 鈥榦ffed鈥� 鈥� some by stray bullets and some not stray. I got to take aim on those....

鈥淟ike Nicodemus, I am born again mentally. I close my eyes so dreams can open them.鈥�

The Present as a Gift:听 A seemingly shy soft-spoken inmate (who wears a prayer cap and shawl) wrote and spoke about his abilities as a hustler 鈥� his blessing and his curse.听 He explained that he was always able to get what he or his family needed 鈥� for example, money to fix up his grandmother鈥檚 house. She lived there for 30 years and then it burned because of old wiring and fuel lines. But 鈥渘eeds" weren鈥檛 his downfall: He freely admitted that he was always able to get what he wanted and that his 鈥渨ants鈥� got him prison time 鈥� which, he admits, is what he needed. He鈥檚 come to think of an 鈥渆jection button鈥� 鈥� which, in his visions, becomes a rejection button, of a sort:

鈥淲hich ghost would haunt me the most?听 I have to say my present: I鈥檓 not 100 % out of the woods yet. I know I should be done with the streets, but I still have thoughts of making fast money. So to keep from going down, I have this ejection button 鈥� it鈥檚 my mental picture of my little girl.

鈥淭hen I 鈥榮ee鈥� somebody鈥檚 daughter as a pregnant teen, an HIV mom, in an abusive relationship....

鈥淚 know I blame my father for me being in trouble. I don鈥檛 want my daughter (she鈥檚 ten) to feel about me the way I feel about him..... I have to be out there, steady, for my daughter.... They call the 鈥榟ere-and-now鈥� the Present, because it is a gift. Like most kids, I thought the bigger the gift, the better the present. The best present I can give to my daughter is my presence. I have to do everything I can to keep my present as short as possible, even just to be outside just a day sooner.鈥�

As the reader of these essays I can only hope that, like Scrooge, my inmate-students will find that it's not too late to learn from their ghosts.听

Joseph H. Cooper teaches ethics and media law courses at Quinnipiac University.听 His 鈥淧auses and Moments鈥� stories appear at PsychologyToday.com as 鈥淩umblings from the lane next to the off ramp.鈥�