STREETZine - June 2023 Edition

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Transitioning Back Into Life

By Wendy Rojo

Life looks different to each of us. We all live our lives together, but we experience life differently. We take various paths in hopes of doing the best we can with what we have.

Unfortunately, we make mistakes, but it is how we amend those errors that truly matters. For some in our community, that means serving time. According to Dallas County, there are roughly 6,000 people currently in our jail system.

Unfortunately, we make mistakes, but it is how we amend those errors that truly matters.

Regardless of the reason a person is incarcerated, it is important to acknowledge the effects incarceration can have on them. The Prison Policy Initiative (PPI) argues that many features of incarceration lead many to experience mental illness. The features PPI mention include disconnection from family, loss of autonomy, boredom, lack of purpose, and unpredictability of surroundings. PPI states that many who are incarcerated can experience a post-incarceration syndrome similar to posttraumatic stress disorder.

The impact of incarceration affects everyone equally. However, some people have a greater chance of being incarcerated. According to the Texas Center for Justice and Equity, people experiencing homelessness are 11 times more likely to be incarcerated compared to the general public. They also report that incarcerated individuals are 10 times more likely to be homeless compared to the general population.

Those who are experiencing homelessness are statistically more likely to face incarceration and the effects of being incarcerated can hit them harder. As the Texas Center for Justice and Equity states, a national survey found that those who are homeless reported the

use of mental health services and/or medication prior to being incarcerated. Furthermore, those who were homeless before incarceration are two times more likely to be exposed to trauma.

Those who are experiencing homelessness are statistically more likely to face incarceration and the effects of being incarcerated can hit them harder.

Experiencing the effects of incarceration is difficult enough, but thinking about life after incarceration can create its own set of obstacles. For many, it can be difficult getting back into the general population and simply getting back to living. Luckily, some organizations are leading the way in helping those who were incarcerated get over the obstacles.

Unlocking Doors, for example, created a reentry brokerage process that helps those with a criminal background get back into society. Their process includes client enrollment, a

reentry plan, and monitoring and impact measuring. The data they find is used to inform policy and legislative efforts. Their goal is to reduce repeat crimes by 20% among their clients. This is done by tailoring each process to a client’s needs.

Similarly, the 2000 Roses Foundation focuses on assisting women re-enter society following incarceration. The organization particularly focuses on helping women who are affected by substance abuse and/or domestic abuse. The 2000 Roses Foundation has an online catalog of items created by some of these women that are available for purchase.

These organizations are just a couple that are helping those who have been incarcerated. Both organizations see the value of creating hands-on occasions so clients can learn new skills and have a greater chance of reentering society successfully.

Wendy Rojo is managing editor of STREETZine.

Facts to Know about Homelessness and Incarceration

“The rate of homelessness among adult state and federal prison inmates is four to six times the annual rate of homelessness in the general population.”

Source: Texas Center for Justice and Equity

“Homelessness does not increase the risk of incarceration. In contrast, incarceration does increase the probability that an individual will become homeless, but not immediately.”

Source: Journal of Quantitative Criminology

“The critical period for ex-inmates starts six months after release suggesting that this may be the time when support programs are currently lacking and would be most efficient.”

Source: Journal of Quantitative Criminology

Photo Courtesy of Mike McCall.

STREETZine

STREETZine is a program of The Stewpot.

Pastor’s Letter: The Advocate

By Reverend Amos Jerman Disasa

Editor’s Note: This essay is excerpted from a sermon that Rev. Disasa delivered at the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas on May 14, 2023.

The STREETZine is a monthly newspaper published by The Stewpot, a ministry of the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas. The Stewpot provides services and resources for people experiencing homelessness or who are at risk of being homeless. The organization also offers opportunities for a new life.

As part of this ministry, the STREETZine seeks to raise awareness about the issues surrounding homelessness and poverty. The monthly publication also offers financial opportunity for Stewpot clients who sell the paper to Dallas residents. Vendors are able to move towards economic self-sufficiency by using the money they receive from selling copies to purchase bus passes, food, and necessary living expenses. Clients also receive stipends for contributing articles to STREETZine.

The content in STREETZine does not necessarily reflect the views or endorsement of its publisher, editors, contributors, sponsors or advertisers. To learn more about this publication, contact Betty Heckman, Director of Enrichment, 1835 Young Street, Dallas, Texas 75201 or BettyH@thestewpot. org. To read more about STREETZine, a member of the International Network of Street Papers, go to www. thestewpot.org/streetzine.

STREETZine is published by The Stewpot of First Presbyterian Church.

Managing Editor: Wendy Rojo

Editorial Advisory Board: The Rev. Amos Disasa

Brenda Snitzer

Suzanne Erickson

Russell Coleman

Poppy Sundeen

Sarah Disasa

William McKenzie

Betty Heckman

Photo Editor: Jesse Hornbuckle

The 16th verse of John 14 includes a word that is unique to John’s gospel. The word is paraclete, which is translated from Greek to English as “advocate.” Jesus says to the disciples in verse 16, “I will ask God, and God will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.”

John is the only gospel that identifies the Holy Spirit as an advocate, and Verse 16 is the first of four instances where Jesus reassures the uncertain disciples with a promise that after he is gone to be with the God, the Holy Spirit will come to advocate on their behalf.

Biblical scholars are still debating where the gospel writer of John sourced this strange name for the Holy Spirit. To those of us who don’t earn our living reading biblical Greek, the debate may sound academic. Does it make a difference that John’s Jesus can’t make up his mind if he will ask God for an advocate or a spirit in his absence? I don’t know about you, but I vote for both. Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. If there is a difference, give me both and I’ll keep the one I like.

Jesus says the advocate is only available for those who keep his commandments

The problem with that approach is that we don’t get to pick. Jesus says the advocate is only available for those who keep his commandments. He said, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments, And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.”

Which is Jesus’ way of saying that…

• The promise of the advocate is not for the know-it-alls that lean on their seniority, or their proximity to power, or their privileged position at the top of social castes dressed up as meritocracies.

• The promise of the advocate is not for the carnival barkers that confuse the volume of their voices as authority.

• The promise of the advocate is not for the churchgoers toting big Bibles that announce their righteousness, and big opinions about how the church should do this or that but get real quiet when it’s time to sacrifice their time or money.

I wish I could preach a nice sermon that doesn’t leave anyone out. But there will never be a good day to toss this wet blanket of a scripture reading onto our postmodern belief that everyone is entitled to their own version of the truth.

And it may be a disappointment to dis cover that neither your privilege nor your marginalization, your faithful church attendance nor your religious open-mindedness, your conservatism nor your liberalism, has anything to do with whether the advocate is in you.

There is a spark of the divine in each of us, but the fire for justice, and the glow of righteousness, and the flame of godliness is reserved for the keepers, not the qualifiers.

As Jesus tells it in our text today, the advocate is earned, not given. There is a spark of the divine in each of us, but the fire for justice, and the glow of righteousness, and the flame of godliness is reserved for the keepers, not the qualifiers. There are two kinds of people in the world, those who keep Jesus’ commandments, and those who qualify them with their own.

There are two kinds of people in the world, those who keep Jesus’ commandments, and those who qualify them with their own.

Many will say they know what’s true in a broken world that believes truth is in the eye of the beholder. But before you click their like, follow, or share button, check to see if they keep Jesus’ commandments.

Sounds simple, I know. Maybe even too simple and a little too Christiany in a choose-your-own adventure world that centers the individual as the arbitrator of truth. We can see our preference for quick solutions to the perennial problem that is distinguishing one truth from another by observing the Christian church’s response to the decline in church attendance. We should note, though, that the

Continued on page 5

Executive Director’s Report

By Brenda Snitzer

My first job out of college and graduate school was as an adult probation officer in Dallas. I had a master’s degree in counseling and wanted to help people.

People on my probation caseload had a felony. Rather than go to prison, they were sentenced to probation for a certain number of years. They had to see me monthly both in the office and at their home, pay a fee to the court, and abide by all the rules of their probation.

The communities I worked in were some of the poorest in Dallas. That was when I learned first-hand that people born into poverty have so many more challenges. The jobs in the neighborhoods where my clients lived didn’t pay a living wage. Making their probation fees was difficult, as was finding the means to support themselves. Many of them didn’t have the money for transportation to get to betterpaying jobs in other parts of the city or the education to increase their employability.

Even more difficult, not many emploers would give folks a chance because they had a felony conviction. Most of the

people I worked with wanted to be selfsufficient and do better for themselves. But they lacked the resources to improve their circumstances. They got discouraged, and I got discouraged.

Most of the people I worked with [as an adult probation officer] wanted to be self-sufficient and do better for themselves. But they lacked the resources to improve their circumstances.

Those that wanted to avoid further criminal activity overcame their circumstances generally because the family or friends they lived with helped support them by reducing their expenses. Or they had an employer who took a chance on hiring them. Those that were able to obtain employment with a livable wage were the ones who made it. The ones that had many other challenges, such as a substance abuse addiction, might not make it. For others, they didn’t make it because of overwhelming financial burdens or lacking the skills to obtain a living-wage job.

The Stewpot is a first stop for many folks coming out of jail or prison because many don’t have the vital documents to obtain employment or housing. Our ID services help them greatly, along with the caring guidance of our caseworkers. Yet that is not the main role of our Stewpot home-

less services’ caseworkers. Our homeless services program is mostly focused on assisting clients obtain their IDs. They must refer those coming out of jail or prison to other organizations for additional services.

The Stewpot is a first stop for many folks coming out of jail or prison because many don’t have the vital documents to obtain employment or housing.

Fortunately, numerous programs in Dallas now help people get back on their feet. Many of these programs are effective, such as Miles of Freedom, Dallas Leadership Foundation, Texas Offenders Reentry Initiative, Workforce Solutions (employment not just for formerly incarcerated), Volunteers of America, and Exodus Ministries.

As a probation officer in the 1980s and early 1990s, the job was more about enforcement of the rules. It was less about being able to help folks get back on their feet. That’s why I didn’t stay in that profession. Hopefully that has changed by now. People who have been involved in the criminal justice system and want help desperately need advocates and resources to live crime-free.

Brenda Snitzer is executive director of The Stewpot.

Facts to Know about Homelessness and Incarceration

“More than 12% of the American workforce has felony convictions and another 20% have misdemeanors.”

Source: Dallas Morning News, The Sentencing Project

“Approximately 70 million Americans have a criminal record.”

The Dallas Morning News, The Sentencing Project

“In Texas, more than 78,000 people are released each year from state and federal prisons.”

Source: The Dallas Morning News, The Prison Policy Initiative

“Barely more than half -- 55% -- of those previously incarcerated report earnings in the first year after their release.”

Source: The Dallas Morning News, The Brookings Institution

“More than 250 employment-based statutes and court rules restrict job seekers with a felony.”

Source: The Dallas Morning News

“People experiencing homelessness are 11 times more likely to face incarceration when compared to the general population.”

Source: Texas Center for Justice and Equity

“Formerly incarcerated individuals are almost 10 times more likely to be homeless than the general public.”

Source: Texas Center for Justice and Equity

“Adequate coverage for post-release programs is necessary to break the link between incarceration and homelessness.”

Source: Journal of Quantitative Criminology

Growing Up in Prison

By Poppy Sundeen

At 16, an age when most kids are engrossed in high school life, Michael Calhoun was starting a 30-year prison sentence. “They put me in with grown men even though I was a kid. Prison was prison then.”

“They put me in with grown men even though I was a kid. Prison was prison then.”

The prison in question was Preston E. Smith Penitentiary in West Texas, where he was on both the giving and receiving ends of violence. “I was a gangster when I got there from the streets, and I was a gangster in prison.”

Michael’s reputation as a fighter had preceded him. “Just so happened I was known when I got to prison.” He lived up to his notoriety, resulting in solitary confinement for long periods at a time. “I was in a cell by myself 23 hours a day. The other hour, they put handcuffs on me, put me in the day room, put me in the shower and then back in my cell.” That was his life from age 19 to age 27.

Three decades off the grid

Even when he wasn’t in solitary, Michael was removed from the rest of the world. “They took out the TV in 1996,” he says. “I didn’t watch TV again until 2020.”

He missed the rise of the internet and social media. He didn’t know how to use a cellphone. Today, three years since his release from prison, Michael’s still learning the ropes. “It’s like we’re in another country — if you’re going to survive, you’ve got to figure it out.”

Other, more personal changes took place during his confinement. His mother died in 2017, followed by his father in 2020, just two days before Michael came home to North Texas.

Rejoining the world

Luckily for Michael, he had remaining family waiting when he got out. His sister picked him up at the prison gate and drove him to his cousin’s Pleasant Grove apartment, where he’s lived since his

release. They made the trip without stopping to eat. “I didn’t want restaurant food. I wanted my Aunt Nancy to cook for me.” She welcomed him back with her signature spaghetti.

“I didn’t leave my cousin’s apartment for two years,” he says. His isolation was due both to the Covid pandemic and to his 20 months of ankle-monitored parole.

Even now, Michael doesn’t venture out much. “I don’t know how to ride the bus,” he explains. “People have jobs. They don’t have time to teach me.” He gets rides from family and friends when he has someplace to go.

Seeking help from community resources and from above

One of the places Michael goes to is The Stewpot, where he meets with a caseworker who’s helping him get a toehold in the world outside the prison gates. “My mind is not equipped to deal with everything that’s going on. She helps me with things I don’t know how to do, like getting my ID and my own place to stay.”

Michael is still reluctant to spend time in public. “I go places, but I only go places where I’m comfortable.” That includes church. Michael, who “said other people’s prayers but didn’t pray,” became a believer in 2014. “It took me until then to step up in church and pray.” It’s been an important part of his life ever since.

His avoidance of public places is partly due to the violence he sees in today’s world. “The way our society is now, you can’t go to church, can’t go to school. I used to BE the one other people were afraid of,” he says, acknowledging the irony in his fear of being a victim.

A look back at the streets that shaped him

While he doesn’t make excuses for his past behavior, Michael does consider himself a product of his tough South Dallas neighborhood. Revisiting the streets where he grew up, he expresses concern for the people he left behind. Many of them are struggling. “They don’t have a home. They’re strung out on drugs. They’re living, but it ain’t life.”

“If I could prevent a child from going the route that I took, I’d gladly give word to it.”

He fears for the kids growing up there now. “They do what they do but they really don’t understand the consequences.” One of his dreams is to write children’s books. “If I could prevent a child from going the route that I took, I’d gladly give word to it.”

Lessons learned

Reflecting on the prison experience, Michael states, “You can either lose yourself or you can find yourself.” For him, it was the latter.

He became a proficient reader in prison. “When I got there, I could read three- or four-letter words.” His formal education had ended with eighth grade. In prison, Michael got a dictionary and started looking up words. “I’d break them down and highlight them in the book I was reading.”

He also learned to cut hair in prison and is thinking about pursuing a career as a barber. But the most profound lesson he learned in prison was to make the most of the life he was given. “I tell myself every day who I want to be.”

Poppy Sundeen, a Dallas writer, is a member of The STREETZine editorial board.

Photo Courtesy of Poppy Sundeen.

John 14:15–21

15 ”If you love me, you will keep my commandments.

16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.

17 This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

18 ”I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.

19 In a while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.

20 On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.

21 They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

Continued from page 2

trend is not universal; churches in the Global South have been growing spectacularly at the same time churches in the West have been rapidly shrinking. The latter includes our denomination: the Presbyterian Church USA.

In response to the existential threat of extinction, churches have generally responded in one of three ways.

• Some are hunkering down to protect themselves from a culture that they interpret as hostile to their traditions.

• Other churches are branching out into politics, aligning themselves with the political party that’s most likely to defend their interpretation of scripture, especially on social issues.

• And still others have been seduced by the vapid, nebulous, mushy and false promise that death can be avoided with better marketing, more technology, conversational preaching, and increased diversity, all of which serves a well-intentioned attempt to remain relevant. Like the disciples to whom Jesus was speaking when he told them he was going to the Father, we are uncertain about who to trust, and what to do in the absence of Jesus.

• Things would be much easier if Jesus was just here, leading us away from the false gospels of Christian nationalism, and the false gospel of unity that doesn’t require repentance, and the false gospel that idolizes the marginalized and oppressed.

• Things would be much easier if we all went to one church, where Jesus himself was the preacher, instead of regular old humans that bring so much human baggage with them into the pulpit.

• Things would be much easier if he was around to curse the fig trees for us, and calm the storms for us, and feed the five thousand for us, and tell us who to vote for.

Maybe if he was around, the Shakahola Massacre wouldn’t have happened.

In southern Kenya last month, more bodies were pulled from shallow graves on the 800-acre property that Rev. Paul MacKenzie promoted as a safe haven from an apocalypse that only he could

see coming. MacKenzie was a former taxi driver and a self-ordained Christian preacher. So far 179 bodies have been found and hundreds more of his disciples are missing.

What’s now being called the Shakahola massacre is a barbaric story we’ve heard before. A charismatic male — it’s always a man — claims to be the advocate that Jesus promised. People follow because we crave certainty in the midst of complexity. The fake advocate’s promise is always simple: eat this and you’ll be saved, drink this and you’ll be enlightened, follow me and I will be your advocate to God, mediating on your behalf, because you are too simple-minded to detect false gospels.

People follow because we crave certainty in the midst of complexity.

We have our own false prophets promising to be our advocate, our mediator to the gods, and our defenders of a certain kind of freedom that’s reserved for some of “we the people.”

We have our own false prophets promising to be our advocate, our mediator to the gods, and our defenders of a certain kind of freedom that’s reserved for some of “we the people.”

What Jesus instructs us is that before you ask someone what the truth is, before you turn to your favorite news channel or your favorite website, before you put your finger up to the wind to find out what conventional wisdom has to say, before you search for truth, keep Jesus’ commandments.

Love your neighbor as yourself. Otherwise, nobody will believe you.

Reverend Amos Jerman Disasa is senior pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas.

A View from Nature: Starting Over Again

By Vicki Gies

When my husband and I left the woods by White Rock Lake where we had lived homeless for three years, a friend from our church wanted to help us. This friend lived in Seagoville on a property that had a large house and three mobile homes, one of which was vacant. Our friend had talked to the property owner about our wanting to rent the vacant mobile home. It was an old mobile home that needed some work, but it had three bedrooms, two baths, a huge living room, a fullsize kitchen, breakfast area, washer and dryer, and a master bathroom with a large shower and garden tub!

We rented this mobile home, which we believed would be our forever home, for $1000 a month with utilities included in the rent. During that time, we also were able to buy an old SUV. After almost a full year of living in the mobile home on that property, the owner of the property decided to sell it. They allowed all the renters of the mobile homes to stay for another month.

When we had to move out of the mobile home, we found ourselves in another bind with our housing. Fortunately, another church friend from Irving offered to co-sign on a used camper trailer. It was 28-feet long, which was about a third of

the size of our previous mobile home. It would feel like a small space for me, my husband, our four dogs, five cats, and a kitten. But it was a home.

We soon found an RV park in Crandall that would suit us well. Our rent for the camper and our lot at the RV park, which included utilities, was going to be approximately $700. But, since my husband had put his last installment of his SSI check in the amount of $5800 as a down payment on the camper, our rent was lowered to $400 a month for the camper.

After some time, our friend and owner of the camper notified us that she was in debt and needed to increase our rent. The amount she wanted was more than we could afford. So, she informed us in March of this year that she was going to have to sell the camper.

I thought to myself, “Here we go again.” Our friend needed us out by May 1st, but unfortunately, we couldn’t leave until May 3rd when I got paid. We had to pack up that morning, but a lot of our stuff had already been taken out and thrown on the grass. We gave away most of our appliances and a bicycle we had been given. We had just enough money left to camp out and eat while we were camping.

Leading up to this move, we had inquired about a house in Pleasant Grove that we were interested in. It was a beautiful, white brick house with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a huge backyard

with a wooden fence. The rent was going to be $1000, with all utilities included. We were desperate to find another place to live so that our dogs could have a yard. I got an email response to our inquiry about this house, but come to find out, this all turned out to be a scam. We also found out that we weren’t the only seniors who had been scammed on this very house. (If the house you are wanting to rent sounds too good to be true, believe just that…it’s not!)

We had to turn around and come back to where we were living three years ago: the woods in White Rock Lake. It will take a while for us to get back on our feet at White Rock Lake again. One positive thing is that we had a good relationship with some of the stores near White Rock Lake, and the employees there were kind to us. They seemed to like us because we don’t do drugs or get drunk, and we don’t cause trouble. We are just trying to survive.

So, here we are, starting over again. Right now, we are living in peaceful surroundings. I love the trees, the different kinds of birds, the nature trails, and the lake. I have reclaimed my old woodland nickname, Jungle Jane. In a way, I feel very much at home, which is why I dedicate this story to all of the nature that I love and cherish.

Vicki Gies is a STREETZine vendor and frequent contributor.

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For help finding food or housing, child care, crisis counseling or substance abuse treatment.

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2-1-1 Texas helps Texas citizens connect with state and local health and human services programs.

Artwork by Stewpot artist Jennifer Moore.

Writers’ Workshop Essays

Editor’s Note: Each Friday morning at 10 a.m., The Stewpot hosts a Writers’ Workshop. During the sessions, participants address selected topics through prose or poetry. In this edition of STREETZine, we feature the essays of writers that explore the effects of incarceration.

The Night That Changed My Life Forevermore

By Larry Jackson

In my senior year of high school, my life was about to take a major turn. My grandmother told me later that she was troubled and praying that night. On this late Saturday night, I was in full party mode. The Class of 1979 was in the Brick House Nightclub. The DJ was playing one hit after another. The dance floor was packed to standing room only. The ladies were dancing and showing a great deal of fun. Truly, we were all in the mix.

After a short break in the action, I decided where my next dance would come from in the nightclub — right in front of me at the next table. I had no knowledge that the young lady had just finished an argument with her boyfriend. Just about this time, the DJ played the dance song Atomic Dog. My favorite dance song was blasting in the place. It was my time to make a move.

Boys are going to be boys, so I asked her for the next dance. My answer came from an angry boyfriend. Now I was having words with this guy. Girls and guys, music and fun, what more could happen? Quickly arrangements were made to fight it out.

Now I had started down the fast lane that would lead to the Mississippi Department of Correction. This thing escalated so fast.

Now I had started down the fast lane that would lead to the Mississippi Department of Correction. This thing escalated so fast. A person could end up losing his life in return. My next date would be the county jail. From there to the courthouse. Next in line, Parchman Mississippi State Prison. Restitution had to be paid by this new resident.

A future with promise changed

Wait! Pump the brake! This has to be a dream! A future with so much promise had changed. The jail stay and court appearance had come and gone. The sentence the judge gave was real: 15 years. The voice of my grandfather echoed in my ear, “Stop the crying. You have to be a man.”

Three weeks later, I woke up in the middle of

the night. I walked to the jail cell door and felt the nine pounds of steel. Yes, only one tear fell from my eye. The truth of the matter, it wasn’t a dream.

Now I started the preparations for the journey ahead of me. My daily routine would seriously change. My everyday lifestyle had to modify. My physical presence had to be addressed with more exercise and pushups. My physical strength had to be key on a daily basis. Also very much important was my spiritual health and standing, drawing from my values in life. The first book I read cover to cover was the Holy Bible.

Self-preservation was the law of this land. A good work habit would power the engine. After a few months with everything in place, surviving the prison system of the Mississippi Department of Correction was my challenge.

Self-preservation was the law of this land. A good work habit would power the engine.

Parchman, my new state of residence, brought a new lifestyle change. Trouble here would come a lot easier. Things could go wrong very fast. Keeping busy would have to play its part through work and volunteering. These two alone would create good opportunities. At any given time, a person’s manhood could be challenged. The crisis of life at any prison was always waiting. Settling your problem has to be dealt with immediately. Fighting your own battle was always on display.

My work spoke for itself. Again, my work habit carried me all over camp. My many work tasks and volunteer efforts caught the eyes of the prison staff. Favor was my best friend. I found pleasure in working in camp support, gardening duties, clean-up, and the basic upkeep of my camp.

Surely, prison life is filled with drawbacks. Your legacy is based on your action.

Surely, prison life is filled with drawbacks. Your legacy is based on your action. The first is the inmate: He follows the rules and works his own way out. Second is the seasoned con: He makes life hard for everybody around him. Then there is the career criminal: Institutionalized, he’s the revolving door, in and out of prison.

Working my way home

Through it all, I was on my way home. My every effort was about to pay off. The lieutenant called me to the front desk, calling me by my prison name, Jack. The lieutenant asked me a question. He went on, “I have noticed your work in and around this camp. But you’ve never asked me for nothing. What do you want, Jack?” I said, “Lieutenant, I want to be on the other side of those tracks without those dogs being behind me.” The lieutenant smiled and went about his work.

Shortly after that, my work duties changed. Now I was working outside the front gate, around the guard shack and in the camp garden. I had a free run of the camp. I was placed apart of the four-man groundskeeping team. I was called out. It was time to cut the lieutenant’s lawn. Guess what? The lieutenant lived outside of those tracks without the dogs.

I was amazed after finishing my task for the day when the lieutenant pulled me to the side and handed me some work-release papers. He instructed me to have my family get me a job in the free world.

My path that went through prison life was a lesson I would never forget.

About a month later, my journey to get back home was in full progress. My path that went through prison life was a lesson I would never forget. Also, this experience in prison life added respect and character to my life. Truly, this was a life-changing experience.

Larry Jackson is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

The Suprise I Found in Prison

By Mike McCall

The world is constantly changing and we must change as well to survive. For humans, change is not easy and often painful.

Those of us who cross the line into illegal activity experience a forced change once we are caught. Individuals lose friends, family, finances, and freedom. They are left with one critical choice: Use your time incarcerated as an opportunity to change.

When my deviant activity finally caught up to me, I was a shadow of a man. Having stepped over the line, I wasn’t in control of my own life. My addictions and criminal activity dictated my every move. There were only two ways to alter my course and I am extremely grateful it was handcuffs instead of a hearse.

You lose everything when you get locked up. The only choice left is how you do your time. Ironically, getting locked up can be your first taste of personal freedom. Your basic needs are taken care of so you are free to do some exploration of self. During this time, your opportunity to change unveils itself and your environment allows you to build on this foundation.

I used my time in prison to read and stay out of the way. Before my incarceration, I hated reading. Viewing my time as an opportunity to change, I started reading every day. Upon my release, I was reading around 300 pages a day — and loved it.

Developing that skill has now made going to college something I can achieve. I am a straight-A student and on my way to a degree thanks to the positive change I embraced behind bars. Being incarcerated turned out to be a blessing for me.

I was so caught up in the streets and that method of surviving that I had lost all hope. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that hope was in a book behind concrete walls.

Taking away my freedom allowed me to build a life worth living and opened my eyes to the man I could be.

Mike McCall is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Transition from Incarceration

By Jason Turner

The day I was released from Harris County jail on probation for a forgery felony, I had no idea that Houston authorities had no intention of taking the conviction off my record. Little did I know that my record would make it so hard to get a job. I was even walked out of janitors’ offices and forced to do temporary labor for the next seven years.

The transition for me has been a lower class of citizenship, tougher jobs, and shelters and slums. I had to keep a clean record with no trouble for seven years. I did so and now the conviction does not appear when I apply for a job.

Overall, I am no longer upset because I know so many standup people who have beat transitioning out of incarceration. I have the tools I need and plenty of time to focus and stay out of trouble. I must keep on trying.

Jason Turner is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Illustration by David Yisrael.

What Prison Taught Me

By Darin Thomas

Going into prison was something else, a whole other world. When I heard the gates lock behind me, I knew I had lost my freedom. Living behind bars in a cell with another man, avoiding violence in the prison, and complying with the authorities’ rules was a complete loss of freedom.

I had to get up and shower at all different times. Eating occurred when the prison guards told us when to eat. That meant breakfast was served at four in the morning, lunch at 11 a.m., and dinner by 5 p.m. Officers would wake you up at any time and you had to do what they said. They might ask you to do a chore or task at any time they chose. You also had to strip down when going to the gym and coming out of the gym.

My time in prison was a learning experience. It taught me to stay out of trouble. I was very glad when I got out from state prison on parole and had a date to return to my hometown, Dallas. It made me want to live a different life, to live right and do better. Listening to guards is not something I want to do the rest of my life.

Now, after being out of prison for about a year, I am taking life one day at a time, living to the fullest. I have my own apartment, a job, and am living a normal life. I stay out of trouble, enjoy freedom of movement, choose my own food, and even go grocery shopping. None of those things could I do in prison.

Every year that I was incarcerated for something was every day that I was locked up instead of being free. It feels good to live to the best of my ability.

Darin Thomas is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Illustration by David Yisrael.

The Tree Reaching for Jesus Christ

By James Varas

I can see a tree reaching for heaven. I see it stretch its branches for heaven. It reaches for the Heavenly Father like a child reaching for someone who loves them.

I can sometimes feel like I am being held captive in this life we live in. I feel like a tree with its roots planted firmly in God.

Jesus Christ is my anchor. He holds me firm and strong through all my trials and tribulations.

I feel sometimes like a newborn bird. They flap their wings knowing they were born to fly. It is imprinted in their identity. When God created them, they knew they could fly. Their parents cheer them on as they flap their wings with every desperate stroke, as they watch from the treetops.

Their stories are much like ours. We learn how to fly or we die. We learn in this life that we must fight for life or we die. Sad truth.

We learn if no one does anything about a problem, it will never get solved, it will only get worse. We learn to face our fears and fight our battles.

Then we learn we were not alone. Our Heavenly Father, our Holy Lord Jesus Christ, our Holy Spirit were there the whole time helping us defeat the enemy. We sometimes are blind to this.

For so many years I was blind to the fact that Jesus Christ was there with me the whole time. I often thought Jesus Christ watched from the Heavenly Throne. I never knew He lived inside me and could feel me, know me. Before I could think a thought, He would answer me. That’s pretty scary to be answered before you think of the answer.

He gave me a gift. A gift greater than all the treasure on all the earth. A gift with great responsibility. With great Authority.

Great trust in God and love for Jesus Christ is the way I found the Greatest Gift in life. I was given wisdom in more ways any mind can ever comprehend, except for the Trinity of God.

What does that mean?

You are forgiven in Jesus Mighty Name. Amen. I know!

The door is open to Christ and I am here to keep that accessible.

James Varas is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Photo Courtesy of James Varas.

Artwork by Stewpot artist Nicole Nash.

Incarceration Molded My Character

By David Yisrael

I have had two particularly traumatizing experiences dealing with incarceration. Coincidentally, both episodes took place right here in Texas, in the Fort Worth area to be specific.

I was arrested for sleeping on a sidewalk outside a public library the first time and for arguing with an officer about the right to sleep under a bridge in the second incident.

During my first visit to Tarrant County jail, I got into a violent altercation with two inmates that had me seeing double for a while. During my second stay, I was stripped naked and forced to redress.

During both my stays I was denied several food trays while in solitary confinement. I believe that I may have suffered some form of PTSD from my experiences while incarcerated.

It was only after looking into a regular mirror (jail mirrors are metallic and horrible reflectors) after both my imprisonments that I saw how skinny I had become. My weight loss was thanks in part to the inadequate meals I was served. The experience was disconcerting, to say the least.

I had been incarcerated for almost two years with both of my imprisonments combined. They were for relatively minor infractions, if you wish to call them that.

I try not to let myself get overly bitter when I recall these incidents. I know that God used my incarcerations to strengthen me and mold my character into the man He ultimately wants me to become. Also, I was hit with an inventive streak while incarcerated. I came up with everything from songs to product ideas!

After my two incarcerations, all charges were dropped, and I am still dealing with the after-effects. But thanks to the Most High God I am getting better everyday. I am steadily becoming the man God intended for me to be.

David Yisrael is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Artwork by Stewpot artist Sam Cooper.

Street Newspapers - A Voice for the Homeless & Impoverished

What is STREETZine?

STREETZine is a nonprofit newspaper published by The Stewpot of First Presbyterian Church for the benefit of people living in poverty. It includes news, particularly about issues important to those experiencing homelessness. STREETZine creates direct economic opportunity. Vendors receive papers to be distributed for a one-dollar or more donation.

Distributing STREETZine is protected by the First Amendment. STREETZine vendors are self employed and set their own hours. They are required to wear a vendor badge at all times when distributing the paper. In order to distribute STREETZine, vendors agree to comply with Dallas City Ordinances.

If at any time you feel a vendor is in violation of any Dallas City Ordinance please contact us immediately with the vendor name or number at streetzine@thestewpot.org

CHAPTER 31, SECTION 31-35 of the Dallas City Code PANHANDLING OFFENSES

Solicitation by coercion; solicitation near designated locations and facilities; solicitation anywhere in the city after sunset and before sunrise any day of the week. Exception can be made on private property with advance written permission of the owner, manager, or other person in control of the property.

A person commits an offense if he conducts a solicitation to any person placing or preparing to place money in a parking meter.

The ordinance specifically applies to solicitations at anytime within 25 feet of:

Automatic teller machines; Exterior public pay phones; Public transportation stops; Self service car washes; Self service gas pumps; An entrance or exit of a bank, credit union or similar financial institution; Outdoor dining areas of fixed food establishments.