I once asked a mentor of mine: Is there any redemption for an individual like me who is responsible for the death of two human beings? And if so, can I have a voice in the social and political discourse? It has now been over 25 years since that one conversation and the response that put me on the path of redemption and healing. My journey, while unique to me personally, has happened to many men and women in Oregon and around the United States. It requires a lot of self-reflection, and honest self-appraisals, but, (behold an underlying truth), people can change. It is important to have the support of family and friends during the journey — I have been fortunate to have both throughout the 37 years of my incarceration.
I want to share six of my writings, as well as the parts of the journey that has gotten me here. Hopefully, I can convey to a reader, the sadness, the joy, the excitement, the pain, and the pleasures of sitting with my memories of my family while aging in prison. To share some of the experiences Ihave encountered while developing human connections that feels like having an expanded family.
A FOUNDATION
I was born April 9; 1957 in Portland, Oregon. Raised by my mother Clara Mae Brox-Smith, (1925-1998) and my stepfather Clarence Smith,(1922-2004). I am one of ten children, with two adult daughters. I have been physically separated from the community and the majority of my family for over 37 years. I have no way to fully determine the emotional impact my incarceration has had on my daughters and other family members. One of my daughters was 10 years old and the other was 3 years old. I was able to maintain some contact and have family membersprovide me with yearly updates.
I grew-up in Portland, Oregon during the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s. My neighborhood was comprised of multiethnic families living in the Albina District-Germans, Mexicans, Japanese, Chinese, Cubans, Native Americans, Caucasians, and African Americans. Reflecting back on my childhood with this multi-ethnic makeup, I understand now the intelligence and wisdom of the adults/elders who provided care and safety for every child in the neighborhood. The greatest gift in the lessons being taught by the adults/elders was that in the neighborhood, we were all one big family. The words, adages, and phrases connected to those lessons were embedded in my brain, like seeds planted in fertile soil. These same words, phrases and adages became an integral aspect in my healing, redemption and transformation.
DISCONNECTING
The fact that I was being taught that the. people in the neighborhood were like family is evidenced by the number of adopted uncles, aunties,cousins, and even moms, I acquired as a child. These very lessons, filled with the intelligence and wisdom of the elders, became obscure, buried,and abandoned in the midst of childhood trauma. Between the age of 5 and 13 years old, I completely abandoned the lessons of the adults/elders and succumbed to distortions and a warped sense of reality. The lessons were completely stuffed down and buried deep in my mind and body and remained buried until I began to restore them during a period from 2004 to 2017.
MY GREAT FALL — PUT BEHIND A WALL
In 1987, I was charged with two murders. In 1989 I was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. The conviction and death sentences were reversedby the Oregon Supreme Court in 1992. In 1993, I entered a no-contest plea to both murders and was sentenced to two concurrent life sentences. (The facts and circumstances of my crime are not relevant to this submission. By not going into the details, it is not intended to minimize, diminish or hide from the impact on the families and the Portland community. I understand and acknowledge the devastating harm I caused andtake full accountability and responsibility for my actions.)
RECONNECTING-REMEMBERING WHAT TO KEEP AND WHAT TO GET RID OF
During my incarceration I have been deliberate and intentional in addressing the underlying issues that were present before, during and a few years after my crime. I was surrounded by effective caring mentors, friends and even some staff members, who provided truth and guidance as Itraveled on my journey of healing. I started to read self-help materials, participated in cognitive skill programs, practiced yoga, meditation, and journaling. In these groups and other activities, I connected with individuals with shared challenges. We talked about our children, families, and supported each other, creating spaces inside the prison walls that encourages growth. I began to uncover those words, adages, and phrases, from the depths of the emotional burial grounds I had buried them in.
INTELLIGENCE AND WISDOM — THE CIRCULAR CONNECTIONS
In 1998, my mother passed away — this was the second major death of a family member during my incarceration. The physical separation from my family during this period of grieving, seemed to intensify my memory center. It was not just my immediate family that came to mind, I recalled a lot ofthe people and families that lived in the neighborhood that knew Clara Mae, my mother. While struggling with the emotional and psychological aftermath of my mother passing, several individuals came to give comfort and were very supportive. They made spaces for me to talk, cry, laugh, feel, hurt, and heal.
This was the period when I was reconnecting to my body and memories of family and community. Some of the literature I started reading was about the brain and childhood developmental trauma. Over the next several years (15-20 years), I surrounded myself with like-minded people and groups that allowed us to heal. The words, community, family, safe spaces, and healing came up a lot in our discussions.
FAMILY IN WRITING
In spite of the persistent barriers and obstacles inherent in this prison, I have joined an amazing group of writers. Under the direction of two outsidevolunteers from Bridgeworks Oregon, we have created a writing workshop, held once a week here at OSP. Recognizing the parallels for connecting thespirit of writing in this incarcerated community, with the lessons learned about family, neighborhoods, and community, we have expanded thedefinition of family.
I have written six-pieces that have their creative nascent from a workshops prompt: “Intelligence and Wisdom” as it relates to tribal scars. During our workshop, the Practitioner, aka Tracy of Bridgeworks Oregon, read a piece by Gretel Ehrlich about men and the prior week it was Ehlich’s piece about resiliency. After a five-minute free write, we read our writing into the space, with some discussions after each reading. This particular session reduced words and phrases like: tribal, memory, elder, healing, etched, sacred, and other words that felt ceremonial which led to phrases like: being in groupness; family elders; intelligent memory; becoming wiser with age; safe spaces, etc. And it was suggested that the spiritand essences of these words and phrases can be linked to family (tribe) and our scars (memories).
Over the year the impact on my family and friend has now been tempered by their ability to go online and read my writing. This is a meaningful connection. This also allows the family members that were born after 1987 to know their family member in the mental, emotional and spiritual state I exist in now. They can read other works produced by my writing family and enjoy the stories of healing and redemption.
IT CONTINUES BECAUSE IT MUST …
During my incarceration I have contributed to improving our community here at OSP. As an African American gay man, I co-founded Equality Eight (EB), the first LGBTQ special interest group of Adults in Custody (AIC) in the Oregon Department of Corrections (DOC); I am the co-facilitator for the Uhuru SaSa African Culture Club’s Legal Workshop, a biannual class designed to improve legal (law) literacy for AICs. I am a member of The PonyXPress Editorial Board.
In 2024 our Bridgeworks Oregon volunteers Tracy and Dan — provided 320 hours of mentorship; drove 13,451 miles; went into 8Department of Corrections facilities spread-out over the State; facilitated 84 writing workshops to maintain the connections with our writing family; and, published 327 pieces of AIC’s written works. Currently there are over 200 AIC writers contributing to our family’s newsletter, aka The PonyXPress.
FROM THE PONYXPRESS WORKSHOPS
The elements of these six pieces were captured during this created safe space inside a maximum-security prison, demonstrating human connection. This is my example of how families and communities are formed, maintained, and expanded while incarcerated.
Gathering In The Family/Class Room ...
I sit in the classroom with a room full of minds ready to write and explore. The individuals in this room have becomelike my family, as we share in the healing powers of our shared written expressions. Each week I contemplate the Practitioner’s writing prompt, this day I felt the gatherings of a childhood memory.
The Gathering Because
Each gathering had different ways of being called together,
a family member, or a family friend’s birthday, a holiday, or sometimes
just a spontaneous idea - Hey! let’s get together this weekend at Uncle Will’s house.
Often time the children were the focal point at these gatherings,
sitting in circles around the Elders, eyes wide-open, toothy grins stretched across their faces, mesmerized by every word that depart from the Eider’slips.
As their intermittent laughs escapes their amusement, while mixing with the presence of joy. These gatherings are their primary classroom thatwill groom their intelligence,
in preparation to be joined with wisdom in the coming seasons ...
What!
Time moving in what appears to be a circular nonlinear path.
Seemly trapped inside a space where intelligence and wisdom have been arrested. Exposed to rules that are not written into the laws.
Afraid to speak, Afraid to look, even more afraid to listen;
Words with triple meaning, and no one to help decipher the truth. Shut-out, shut-in, misdirected in realtime;
Intelligence and wisdom waiting to make bail.
Intelligence and Her Sister Wisdom ...
There were these stories often told according to one’s age. Stories about a family member that was lovedby everyone, Who spoke with words that seemed to be magically charged.
Words with the power to change lives and guide one through to their dreams. These stories were told to the children while lyingin their mother’s arms.
They were whispered to comfort a troubled soul,
or spoken aloud to welcome one into a space of care and love.
I remember the stories about Intelligence and her sister Wisdom, told to me when I was a child ...
The Things that survive with intelligence and Wisdom.
The whirling assemblies of spoken words, joined with one voice by spaces, periods, and time. Wandering through a sentimental maze of collectedmemories...
remembering those that survived the challenges of life’s experiences between yesterday and today. Seeing - feeling the scars as they linger on the edges of knowledge and understanding, immersed in the waters of a child’s intelligent reality.
Remembering being wrapped in momma’s fatigued arms after her hard day’s work,
or the comfort in grandma’s aged softened hands, holding your tear stained face after a fall. Sitting on the floor, listening to the elders relate the family stories of the years gone-by, feeling the vibrations of wisdom’s fluttering wings, while the words paint vivid scenes in the imagination. Immersed with the feelings that intelligence and wisdom has now become sacred members of the family.
Fear of falling asleep.
Tell me if you dare, about sleeping with a frightful prayer. Where is the intelligence or wisdom inbreeding tears?
Now I lay me down to sleep — learning how to dream with fears. Tell me if you can, about a god that trembles at the thoughts of man. Is there intelligence or wisdom in traumatizing dreams?
If I die before I wake — afraid to rest, afraid to sleep, waiting to scream. Tell if you will, about the nights when I lie silent and still.
How can intelligence or wisdom speak to a weary soul?
I pray the lord my soul to take — a mystery of life to behold.
Lie down in the darken stillness and silence, with a fear of falling asleep …
Children, Intelligence, and Wisdom …
Children sitting with their Elders, the fresh cut grass tickling the backs of their knees. Hearing the tribal stories of the seasonal journeys of sadness and joy.
Their eyes closed at the instruction of an Elder,
Who wants them to learn to see the promises of yesterday and tomorrow. Intelligence and wisdom interconnected to places in their imaginations;
A tapestry woven together, held by the intricate patterns of ancestral knowledge. The generational sharing of ideas, truth, and food ...
Elders sitting with the children ... listening to the intelligence and wisdom of their laughter. The Elders close their eyes to see the children’s promises for tomorrow.
CONCLUSION
As one of the AIC Editors I personally read/review approximately 50% of the AIC written submissions to The PonyXpress. In reading theindividual writings, I develop a connection to their written words, as well as the emotional and spiritual energy of the writers. Like family member, I take great care of their expressions on the pages.
My family continues to expand and Xpress. Without Wax | SLJ
LISTEN
Danny Wilson received an Echo Fund grant to support the album he is recording with our house band Luther’s Boots. Set to release later this year, the collection explores the complexity of life inside and is inspired by the people we’ve met. Last week he played Gone for our folks out in Eastern Oregon. It struck a chord with Chris Lewis at Snake River Correctional Facility who asked that we post the song for his daughters to hear. Here is a rough demo of the song.