For the last eight months or so I have been visiting some inmates in a nearby prison a few times a month. When I was first approached about doing this I was caught off-guard. It’s nothing I would have thought about doing on my own. It’s not that I was averse to doing it, it’s just it never occurred to me. I don’t look at myself as a save the world and embrace everyone kind of person, ready to wrap my arms around the poor misunderstood unfortunates, etc, etc. Nor do I think I am a hard-ass, why should I devote a minute of my time to these people, type of guy. I’m somewhere in the middle; exactly where in the middle, I have no idea. The visits are coordinated by a local religious group of which I am not a member, so the specifics were all new to me.

When the idea was proposed to me I said I would give it some thought. The prison I visit is a medium-security facility in a nearby town. I live in a sparsely-populated, rural area in northern New York State. Regions like mine practically scream out “correctional facilities.” There is not the NIMBY (Not in My Back Yard) argument you hear from many towns or cities. There are several prisons in this part of the state, and with the exception of one or two, unless you were looking, you would never know they were there. And they employ quite a few people. Jobs are often at a premium in rural areas, and without a massive amount of training and education, the prisons enable people to live here and support their families. The jail I visit was initially constructed to be a tuberculosis facility in the early 1900s. Over the years it was morphed into a substance-abuse facility, then a work camp where people were housed while working on various outdoor projects, to finally what it is now: a facility that houses older male inmates who were initially transferred here during the early months of COVID. Most of the men I have visited are in their 60s with maybe one or two in their 50s or 70s. The majority of them are from the New York City area, quite a haul from here. Not only is it a long drive, but this region is another universe from what most are accustomed to downstate. Because of the drive many of the men have not had any type of family visit in years. Some, who have been incarcerated for a long time in other prisons before their transfer up here may not have had visitors for longer than that. Of the inmates in the facility, there are about 10 or 15 men who are in touch with the religious group. These men speak to other inmates asking if they would like visits. Some are open to the idea, others, less so. As you might guess, any type of trust is difficult to come by with these guys, whether it’s trusting fellow inmates or trusting a stranger who stops in a few times a month to talk.

There you have the background. I wasn’t sure what to expect. For my first few visits I accompanied another person and pretty much watched and listened. I shared a bit about myself, but not a heck of a lot. Afterall, I thought, I’m a recently retired English teacher living in the woods. What common ground could I have with these guys? If you think I’m about to state that there’s a lot of common ground, or that we are all the same with just a few differences, that’s not the case. I have almost nothing in common with the men I’ve seen. Most have been in multiple facilities for over 20 years. Everyone I’ve spoken to has told me they were stupid and are guilty of whatever it was that got them put away in the first place. Actually, I was surprised by this. I thought I would hear about how they were innocent or set up or whatever. But that hasn’t been the case. And no, I have not specifically asked anyone what they did to get incarcerated. What I absolutely have been surprised by is how well-spoken and interesting they are. Whether they are sharing about their lives inside the prison or what they did before they were locked up. It’s interesting as hell. And surprisingly, they are interested in what goes on in the life of a retired English teacher. What’s happening with the bees, did they make it through the winter? How is the work coming on your bathroom? Did you finally get a tub and vanity delivered that were both in one piece? You kayak? What’s that like?

Now, I know under different circumstances my life may hold no interest at all for them. My visits are a break in their monotony, something to look forward to on a Sunday instead of the usual. It’s a glimpse into something out-of-routine. Let’s face it, they are very much a captive audience. But whatever the dynamic is, after each visit I invariably leave feeling better. Yeah, I’m sure part of it is a feeling of thankfulness that I am not in their shoes, but it’s more than that. It is gratifying to know that my visit is so appreciated. There aren’t many instances where my very presence is so looked forward to.

I think these visits are very much a two-way street. I am thankful I was approached about them, I am glad I agreed, and I am thankful I can offer something to someone who I probably never would have known existed. They feel better. I feel better.