More Spaces to Talk

I talked to a man this week who grew up beside death row--his father the warden, his home on the grounds of a maximum security prison. His grandfather, he told me, was a preacher. "I felt like their was a contradiction between what Dad did and what Grandpa preached, but we never talked about it."

They didn't even talk about it when protestors came and held signs outside their windows while they ate dinner.

But when he asked, "What's the 'I' for?" we talked about it. And I wished Dad and Grandpa could have been there. More than anything, I wished their were more spaces to talk.

Jonathan