Humanity for Prisoners

As the 25 th birthday of Humanity for Prisoners approaches, I’m writing some essays that help to explain where we came from and where we are going.   My friend Tommy suggests that the title should be something like, “If you see a problem, even with no experience, do something about it!” Actually, his language was a bit stronger, suggesting that one get off his or her posterior. That kind of wording didn’t seem quite appropriate for this piece.   Anyway, it is true that 25 years ago, this broadcast journalist and church musician knew absolutely nothing about prisons and their inhabitants. After nearly 10 years of visiting my friend Maurice Carter, serving time for a crime he did not commit, I became fully aware of the way incarcerated men and women are being treated…or mistreated.   At Maurice’s suggestion, it seemed like it was time get our hands out of our pockets and do something about it. As a result, today we have an organization with a title that describes our w...

I’ve never forgotten that line. 80 years ago I was paging through my mom’s newest edition of the Saturday Evening Post when I spotted a drawing of a kid carrying a little crippled guy on his back. The caption: “He ain’t heavy, Mister, he’s my brother!”   The phrase goes back to 1918.   A boy named Howard Loomis was abandoned by his mother at Father Flanagan’s Home for Boys, which had opened just a year earlier. Howard had polio and wore heavy leg braces. Walking was difficult for him, especially when he had to go up or down steps. Soon, several of the Home’s older boys were carrying Howard up and down the stairs. One day, Father Flanagan asked Reuben Granger, one of those older boys, if carrying Howard was hard. Reuben replied, “He ain’t heavy, Father… he’s m’ brother.”   It’s been a copyrighted slogan for Boys Town ever since. Now, as I’m compiling short quotes from HFP clients for our newsletter, I’m thinking that phrase also fits our work very well.   Hu...

There was a time in the early days of HFP that I was struggling with numerous prison guard issues, and none of them were good. Some correctional officers were seriously mistreating men and women in their facilities.   In frustration, I referred to that situation in a speech I was delivering at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids. I had been invited to speak to a group of senior citizens, in a meeting on the campus, to share information about our work and our mission. I’ve always been more than pleased to do this.   Granted, I was quite unkind in my references to prison guards.   Following my presentation, as usual, I hosted a Q&A session. A pleasant elderly woman with beautiful gray hair, sitting near the front, raised her hand. In her sweet, kind voice she said, “My son is a correctional officer.” She went on to say, “He has a college degree, he loves his job and is proud of his work.”   That was a stark reminder to me that I must watch my step and not be pa...

 M emorial Day, 2026.   An octogenarian reflects.   I remember the Memorial Day parades in the 1940s, during and after World War Two. Somber events, followed by somber ceremonies. Soldiers marching. Wives and mothers wiping tears.   I remember Memorial Day in the 1960s, when I owned and operated radio station WGHN in Grand Haven. I gave the announcers time off on that day and personally ran the programming. Patriotic music. Tributes to vets. Updates on the annual Indy 500 race.   2026. I’ve spent the last thirty years as a prisoner advocate and now I’m approaching the age of 90.   Today there were parades in our area. High school bands marched. These processions were concluded with meaningful ceremonies. My neighbors had outdoor barbecues, guys played Cornhole, hosts flipped hamburger patties on the charcoal grill. On the TV screen newscasts showed clips of somber ceremonies in the nation’s capital and across the U.S.A.   At the conclusion ...

  "Every death in prison is a story left untold, a life unfulfilled." Angela Davis   I was conversing with Heidi Washington, newly appointed Director of the Michigan Department of Corrections. After words of congratulations, I expressed my concern about the way our state treats incarcerated women. She agreed and assured me that there would be improvement.   That was ten years ago. I still haven’t seen it.   There’s only one prison for women. Women’s Huron Valley Correctional Facility is located in Ypsilanti. My opinion on the way women are treated there was NOT based on hearsay.   1.    I had published an expose by a former MDOC plumber who said he quit because he saw, first hand, how the state treated these women and he couldn’t take it any longer! 2. -  I had shared a group of messages scribbled to us by WHV whistleblowers on napkins and little scraps of paper with the ACLU. That led to an in-prison investigation by the U.S. Departm...

Writer Bankole Thompson’s column in Monday’s Detroit News struck a chord with me.   “ No matter what side you sit on in the war with Iran, the skyrocketing gas prices, which have hit $6 in some parts of the country, are affecting everyone .”   He went on to say that among the hardest hit are those persons living on fixed incomes. That leads me to my discussion today, because I’m guessing that many families of incarcerated men and women may not be on fixed income, but very likely are in the low-to-mid income bracket.   That got me to thinking about prison visits and how seriously gas prices will unquestionably affect visitation. Studies have shown that prison visits not only strengthen family bonds, providing emotional support to inmates, but also aid in the rehabilitation process and reduce recidivism rates.   First, let’s consider the remote locations of some of our prisons.   We have a number of correctional facilities in the Upper Peninsula. For fam...