On the frontage road between Baker City and Ontario as we headed to Snake River Correctional Institution, we saw cowboys driving cattle on what looked like a ridge to our left. We doubled-back to see if we could shoot some video to publish on the prison tablets and came across a rancher and his grandson waiting to head the herd under an overpass and along another road. He gave us directions to a spot where we could help him by keeping the cattle moving in the right direction and we would have a great perspective to shoot. Country directions require the city ear to listen and interpret unfamiliar markers. Under this overpass and to the left, along the road, past the cattle guard, look for the two roads and park across Iron Mountain Road. Seems clear until we arrived and parked in a rutted, muddy spot where the road sign seemed to mark two roads heading in two directions. Deciding to split the difference, we set up in the middle of nowhere, and then peppered each other with questions: wait, how are the cattle going to cross the cattle guard? uhm, what’s the timeline on moving cattle. are we going to be stuck surrounded by cows and be late for our workshop? After waiting about 10 minutes, we trepidatiously walked back to the bend of the road. Sure enough, cattle coming toward us. As it turns out, they move more quickly than you expect when they are heading toward you.
As they lumbered, I thought, I don’t know how this is going to go. It’s the feeling I have every time, I begin a conversation with a new prison group. I am face-to-face with strangers. One of the cows stood looking at me, just looking — for what felt like a long time, and then, it received a message from the herd and it switched course and lumbered on. They moved with a gentle sway over the ruts, guiding each other, their hooves pounding the dirt road. Gentle power.
These letters to a younger self hold lives of extreme violence, including sexual violence with a loose hand. This is gentle power in action.
Theron: Letter to Younger Self
Dear Young Theron,
You don’t know me yet, but I know you better than anyone. My name is Theron. I’m you—thirty years down the road—and I’m writing from a place you can’t imagine yet. You’re ten, and you’ve already seen things no child should ever see.
Didn’t Know I Was Victim
by Theron Hall
I was stabbed in a gang fight at sixteen. The police arrived on the scene and a witness told them what they saw. The officers approached me and directed me to turn around and lift up my shirt. As I complied, they saw blood running down my back, confirming the witness’s statement. Asked what happened, I refused to cooperate.
Ian: Letter to My Younger Self
by Ian Lohrman
There is so much inside me that is impossible to communicate.
So much that gets smothered by the ways of the world.
If only I had better words to truly express myself.
Shadowstones
by Ian Lohrman
I am a collector of stones, building my labyrinth
Its intricate arrangement, a tableau of my own fate
Circling the center, then spiraling out about the edges
The weight of stone within my breast too immediate to ignore
Brittany: A Girl Unwanted
by Brittany Vogeli
I know grief from the loss of our childhood consumes us. I know things are hard right now and you feel like no one cares. But we survived our childhood one step at a time. Surprisingly, we overcame most of it. We have been through so many things. Dad shot that guy and we were covered in blood. You don’t get over that.
The Story of My Life
by Brittany Vogeli
My mother was the star of the show. Whatever she said was done in fear of our lives. She used to beat us if we didn’t do what she said. We made it through somehow. It must have been the comedy that never seemed to end in the mess of our lives.
As the cattle passed and we waved goodbye to the work crew, it occurred to me how quickly we adapt to our environments, to the work of our lives. We find ourselves in a space and our bodies accommodate the effort. Standing in the center a prison yard has become a familiar landscape for us. The nervous energy of meeting strangers with each visit has become commonplace. I don’t know how this is going to go is charged and the electricity promises a learning opportunity. It fills the belly with courage to cross the next cattle guard. By the way, when they arrived at the guard, the herd simply moved to the side of the road and bypassed it completely. | TDS
