Citizens for Criminal Justice Reform – New Hampshire

The prison choir was asked to sing at the Maundy Thursday service. I’d never been to one. It would be interesting. There would be foot-washing.

I was looking down at the yard from the third tier. The guys who had been playing a pick-up game of basketball were now tramping through the perennials.

I was at my workbench in the hobbycraft shop when a fellow prisoner sidled up to me and asked in a low voice, “Doc, got a minute?

Once a week I climbed the metal stairs to the third-floor office of the mental health counselor.  The stairs ran up the outside of the building like an oversized fire escape.