One Man’s Prison is Another Man’s Home
Oh, give me a home
Where the buffalo roam
The state song of Kansas is “Home on the Range.” I remember squawking it off-key at the top of my lungs as a child during school concert performances. Growing up in Leavenworth and Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, you’re always aware of the prisons. There they are. In my child mind I knew it housed and employed people, but that was the extent. In high school my biggest problems (thankfully) were worrying if anyone thought it looked strange that my boyfriend was 6’2” and I was only 5’2” and if I could get the timing right on Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’ for a cheerleading halftime performance. But, the prisons were there the whole time. I didn’t see what they really meant, the strange juxtaposition against Leavenworth’s charming downtown filled with historic buildings–one man’s idea of home in sharp contract with another.
Watch any military movie and some superior will shout at his enlisted soldier to shape up or he’ll be transferred to Leavenworth (meaning Ft. Leavenworth, which is the U.S. military’s only prison). Our house on post, the one I lived in from second grade until sixth, stood on a hill overlooking the back of the prison. People used to ask our family all the time if we were frightened to live there, and I don’t remember ever being scared. Even as a child I sort of thought the last place an escaped prisoner would want to be is hanging around in the same area he just tried to rid himself of.
Once we moved off post, to The Boss’s House, we were less than a mile from Leavenworth’s federal prison. Nicknamed, “The Big House,” it has housed the likes of Al Capone, Leonard Peltier, and more recently, Michael Vick.
Dahlia Lithwick wrote an amazing piece for Slate that stuck with me as it delves into topics and issues I won’t even begin to pretend I’m intelligent enough to bring up regarding the prison system in the United States. It’s incredibly well written and a must-read. I suppose I give more thought about the justice and sentencing more than the average person because of where I’m from. But, when you pass the federal prison in Leavenworth, one thing that always sticks out to me isn’t the barbed wire, or the guards, or the gates … it’s the buffalo. Some yards from the prisoner’s cages are buffalo roaming, grazing and semi-free.
Since the culture of prison is so engrained in Leavenworth’s society, it comes as no surprise that a friend of mine from my high school graduating class is tied to the prisons. Both his parents were incarcerated during pivotal moments in his life. He broke the cycle and is strong enough and man enough to speak about it today. I’m so proud to share this Q&A a longtime in the making.
Especially now with the holidays approaching it’s the age-old lesson of–it doesn’t matter where you are, someone always has it better, but we must remember those who have it worse. We decided together to keep his identity anonymous, but his story could be anyone. For me, this story is one worth hugging everyone in your life a little tighter and never allowing the past dictate the future.
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