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Albert “Joe”, 48

Albert “Joe”, 48

Stories

Albert “Joe”, 48

Meet Joe…

This is proof that serenity can exist, you just need to look in a place you have never searched before to find it.

Albert “Joe”, 48
Incarcerated: 14 yrs
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility

It didn’t take me long to realize that music and my cello would be the best psychologist in the world. I gave up the desire to give up and focused on the performance side of music. I joined Carnegie Hall’s Musical Connections program and was soon performing in concerts for the Sing Sing Community. With my love for grunge/alternative rock, I decided to begin writing original scores for string quartets. Included in those are Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” and 3 Doors Down’s “Kryptonite.” I felt a need to expand my abilities so I decided to try my hand at writing a song. I’ve never done this so didn’t put much stock into it. I’ve never fancied myself a singer, but was willing to try. Enclosed is my first song, “Dying Moon.” Practicing the song, it was decided it should be performed live at a family concert, scheduled for March 17, 2023. But writing the song was not enough. I needed to push myself beyond my comfort zone, so I decided I was going to pick-up a guitar and sing the song as well. Not an easy undertaking, especially since the concert was but four weeks out at the time of the decision. I believe the concert will be recorded and will be released online for viewing. Once we are notified, I will gladly send you all the information for your viewing pleasure.  “Dying Moon” is my desire to find peace and serenity in a place it just doesn’t or shouldn’t exist, but it was found in a series of musical notes. This is proof that serenity can exist, you just need to look in a place you have never searched before to find it.

Verse 1

Seeking what don’t belong
Where violence is strong
It is true
Blood red hue
Over you the sound of the dying moon

Chorus:

I’m chasing the sound of the dying moon
Sometimes red and sometimes blue
(Repeat)

Verse 2:

It’s the sound of serenity
Highest tranquility
Rising moon brilliant blue
Longing to hear the sound of the dying moon

Chorus

Bridge:

I can’t take in anymore
I strain to hear a whisper
Need to find peace
Where serenity hides
Behind these walls these walls these walls

Chorus

Verse 3

Found a way to escape
The monotony of this place
Found a note gave me hope
Strength in the sound of the dying moon

Chorus

Sammy, 54

Sammy, 54

Stories

Meet Sammy…

I received a letter from my 19 year old daughter, Jazzy, asking me the most insightful question a father would ever have to answer, “Who are You?” And for the life of me, I could not write her a response.

Sammy, 54
Incarcerated: 22 yrs
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Ossining, New York

As a byproduct of the foster care system, I know what it is like to be frightened, saddened, and unbeknownst of what is to come. I know about the exhilarating feeling of being adopted and properly raised by a devout and loving Christian family. Unfortunately, since 18, I have been a career criminal gripped and enslaved to the disease of heroin addiction. And as a result, I mentally and physically wounded too many good-hearted people, especially those I made out to be victims when I needlessly took the life of another human being. I am currently serving 25-years-to-life. Even after that horrific and needless part of my past, I still continued with drugs and criminal thinking. In 2009, I received a letter from my 19 year old daughter, Jazzy, asking me the most insightful question a father would ever have to answer, ‘Who are You?’ And for the life of me, I could not write her a response. Instead, I was miraculously drawn, in tractor-beam force, to look in the mirror in my 8’x8’ cell. As I took an honest look – the image that gawked back, was just a shell of me. I then began to walk the journey of honest self-introspection, which allowed me to stop blaming others for my negative thoughts and behaviors. Instead, I took responsibility for the harm I caused by first abstaining from drugs. Since, I have become a facilitator for the Alcohol Substance Abuse Program, obtained college degrees and am working on my master’s. Do those accomplishments make up for all the harm I caused others – of course not. It is the only concrete way in which I can add substance to the words ‘I’m Sorry’ to all I have harmed. Today, the answer to my daughter’s profound question: I am an individual who is not defined by my bad decisions, yet my past experiences have molded me into a proud, loving, and remorseful Latino father of six wonderful kids and five amazing grandkids. I am also intelligent enough to know what my limitations are – and that recovery from the disease of drug addiction cannot be done alone. God has gifted me with the humane blessing of using my past to help others better themselves.

Anthony “David”, 41

Anthony “David”, 41

Stories

Meet David…

Life is the biggest test, the only way some people learn is from making honest mistakes, and learning from them.

Anthony “David”, 41
Incarcerated: 4 years
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Ossining, New York

I started rapping as an outlet to express my feelings. I am the type of person that holds most stuff in. Not much bothers me. I learned when I get emotional or feel sad, I have the power to decide “the decision moment” by acknowledging it then moving forward. The key is “recognizing it” then making my decision. I love positive energy. It is easy to be negative so I pride myself in making others happy more than making myself happy, if that makes any sense. When I was home, I didn’t give myself a chance to grow professionally because I put others’ needs before my own. I don’t want to be a waste of talent, I am very educated, and my passion for music has not died. I still write and have hopes of taking care of others. To dance. I attract people and money without trying. I always wanted my whole family to have the best life possible. We have been through so much together, it’s only right. I could be a billionaire, if I had recorded my family on a daily basis. They are all musically inclined, and multi-talented. Life is the biggest test. The only way some people learn is from making mistakes, and learning from them. My advice: Life inside here is not what anyone who has never been incarcerated thinks. You can promise yourself that five negative seconds can get you 50 years of misery. One hour, one minute, one second can put you somewhere you don’t want to be, with someone you don’t know, and won’t ever see again. Trust me. Being humble will pay off. Get that 9 to 5 and establish yourself as an honest citizen. The streets don’t love nobody. The friends come to an end. You will be in a cell starving, afraid to eat what the people responsible for your life are giving you. The people that love you won’t reach out because they have their own life, you will be lucky if you are their last priority. Some people have no one! I pray that all of us make it home in one piece. God will show you light in a dark situation. We can change the world we live in by changing how we think, and not being selfish. Don’t blow your blessing.

Michael, 50

Stories

Meet Michael…

As an openly queer person, I wondered if it would matter to the audience. Performing in prison can be like performing in front of the audience at Showtime at the Apollo. They will let you know in an instant if you are off- key. Would their toxic masculinity afford me the moment of performing as Nero and tell the story of love between two different-sexed loving people?

Michael, 50
Incarcerated: 28 years
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility, New York

Singing in prison is tricky. Sing out loud and proud and you are guaranteed at least twenty people within earshot yelling “Shut the f*!@ up!” from the confines of their cages. But that wasn’t the case when I had the opportunity to sing with multi Grammy-Award winning mezzo soprano, Joyce DiDonato, and acclaimed American pianist, Howard Watkins. Singing taps into a voice that is uniquely yours, and on December 2, 2022, I got to use my voice as one of three tenors, singing opera. Two weeks prior, Carnegie Hall Weill Music Institute notified me that I would be in the concert along with two other incarcerated persons. The nerves immediately set in. We would be singing Pur Ti Miro from Monteverdi’s final opera, L’Incoronazione di Poppea written in 1642. For the first time, this opera would be performed in the notorious maximum security prison of Sing Sing. We would be performing for people, like me, who did not have exposure to opera. I tried to dampen my voice by singing under the covers or when the noise from the company would overwhelm any sounds I could make. I don’t have a great ear and hoped I was singing the correct notes. I imagined myself as Nero, the character who sings to his love Poppaea. As an openly queer person, I wondered if it would matter to the audience. Performing in prison can be like performing in front of the audience at Showtime at the Apollo. They will let you know in an instant if you are off- key. Would their toxic masculinity afford me the moment of performing as Nero and tell the story of love between two different-sexed loving people? The day of the concert came quickly. I only wanted more time to practice. That afternoon we met with Joyce and Howard. They were kind and generous. We also found out that we would be singing in a chorus for the folk song “Shenandoah.” Joyce described the writer of the song as using music to remember their home, the Shenandoah Valley, from the Ozark Mountains in Missouri. That struck a chord with me. We were nearing the holidays- a tall Christmas tree with garland, multi-colored lights and ornaments was in the corner of the Catholic Chapel where we were performing. We were performing for some people who have not been home in decades. In fact, some people have lost all of their family members and what they thought of as home does not exist anymore. Literally, buildings have been torn down with new buildings in their place with gentrification and other forces reshaping what used to be “home.” The only home they have, that I have, is the home in our hearts and memories. The opera piece came and went. I was not even thinking about it. I was focused on singing my heart out on Shenandoah. I wanted the audience to know we were their home for that moment and that home was filled with warmth and love. Something they could take back with them to their cold cages.

Paul, 42

Paul, 42

Stories

Meet Paul…

The power of gentleness, especially amid the tough exteriors of prisoners, is not to be underestimated.

Paul, 42
Incarcerated: 17
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Ossining, New York
Selection from Paul’s book, God’s Hand Reaches Down

David came to the Chaplain’s office because he had just found out his mother had died. He was a taller Latin man, a little over six feet, with the rough exterior of years of street life. I could see the pain in his eyes, and the sorrow in his heart. I barely knew him, but the Holy Spirit told me to embrace him. So I did. I told him, “David, I am so sorry for your loss,” and then I just hugged him. I felt his large frame collapse into the crook of my neck like a child, and he began to weep. All the emotion he was holding in convulsed out into broken sobs, and as I held him strongly while rubbing his back and giving him words of consolation. In that moment, he needed the gentleness of an embrace to open his Spirit. Other than being accosted by a correctional officer during a pat frisk on the wall, many of us have never been held for five, ten, twenty plus years, let alone hugged during a vulnerable time. We prayed and I could visibly see the relief on his face and the resolve to get through this difficult time. The power of gentleness, especially amid the tough exteriors of prisoners, is not to be underestimated. Over the years because of my care for my fellow prisoners and the goodness that lies within them, through the gentle example of Jesus, I have been able to reach people during the most challenging times of familial loss, lockdowns, gang wars, riots, and unrest.

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