The written word. It has the muscle to enlarge minds.
To touch hearts.
To educate and inspire.
That’s why Mike Oliver collects and organizes books each week that will be sent to Florida prisoners.
But there’s another reason.
Five years ago, Oliver, 72, was incarcerated and knows how good it felt to receive reading material while serving time.
Remember the classic Coca-Cola ad from the 1970s? The one about teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony? The marketers knew they could touch a chord in people’s hearts about the power of music to promote peace, to unify.
That’s what young prisoners at New York’s Rikers Island—the nation’s second largest jail complex—are experiencing.
The need to be heard. It’s a core craving for all humanity. But for those behind prison bars, voices are mostly muffled, or at least, dismissed.
Because of New York artist Lauren Adelman and juvenile defender Francine Sherman, voices from prison are being heard and appreciated in the form of artistic expression.
Every race has a finish line. But what happens when that line gets pushed farther out making it virtually unreachable?
That’s how it can feel for men and women entering society after completing their prison term. Though their “debt to society” has been paid, payday never ends since many former prisoners find themselves wading through a “second prison,” further locking them into a life with limited choices.
