Over the weekend, my father sent me a news story from my hometown, Rock Island, Illinois, about a young man who's just been sentenced to life in prison for dealing crack cocaine. The 28-year-old has six children and says that he's been consuming a case of beer and copious amounts of pot every day for several years. He also suffers from mental problems and was raised without a father, because his father was locked up for the same crime.
My dad's email had a cheeky tone to it, referring to the men in my family as being "slow starters," since we tend to have children later in life. (My dad waited until he was 31 and my brother, 35, just had his first. I have yet to procreate.) He wrote that this young man really seemed to be on top of it, having so many kids before he was 30. And now "he's planning to further his education during life in the slammer."
I usually appreciate my dad's sardonic wit, but he hit on a sad truth: in Illinois, as in the rest of the country, there are more black men in prison than there are in college.
When I read the story about Damien Howard, I had only one thought: of course he's met this fate -- he grew up in a family of criminals; his brother, half-brother and cousin were murdered as young men; and he's only sporadically held legitimate jobs.
The story made me wonder about all the other men in prison whose stories might read like Damien Howard's. With one in nine black men serving time, you know it has to be a common tale. When you're caught up in the game, there seems to be no way out, so you just play along and wait for the ax to fall.
As tempting as it may be to judge, what can those of us who grew up with considerably more privilege say about a case like Howard? He didn't have parents who read to him as a child, encourage him to study music, or create a college fund for him when he was three. No one believed in him, because he was just a poor black kid from the poor black part of town. He didn't have anyone telling him he could be anything but a crack dealer, so he just fulfilled his destiny. And if nothing changes on a systemic level, his six children will no doubt follow the same path.
[Image: Quad City Times]
To be 28 with Six Kids and a Life Sentence



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Here's Dad, weighing in with another observation on the local scene here in these rough river towns. A few years back a couple got into a fight at their wedding, unfortunately after the vows. A general melee ensued and then they left for their honeymoon but were pursued by the cops and stopped, so they began fighting the cops. The bride spent her wedding night behind bars, in a white wedding dress.
David's mom and I had quite a dull wedding by comparison, but then of course that was 40 years ago. The current culture may call for greater flamboyance.
Who said, "The midwest is boring" ?