Lots of time to think about mom
This Mother's Day, incarcerated young men share their poignant relationships with their mothers.
By Joseph H. Cooperfrom the May 10, 2007 edition
Page 1 of 3
Only a few of the English composition students I meet with on Saturday mornings will spend any time with their mothers this Sunday. My students are confined; they're doing time in one of Connecticut's correctional institutions.
Even without a Mother's Day writing assignment, a number of their personal essays have (for months now) touched on the "corrections" they wish they had made – for the sake of their mothers.
Many recalled the moment that tested whatever mother-son relationship there was: when a mother sees her son's photo on the evening news as someone wanted as a suspect in a criminal investigation, when a mother sees her son being handcuffed and led away by law enforcement officers, or when a son looks over his shoulder to the rows of spectators in a courtroom to spot his mother as he is about to be sentenced.
There are, to be sure, more traditional recollections: a picnic basket brimming with biscuits; a kitchen table covered with unrivaled pies and cakes; a trip to the circus; a homemade Halloween costume fashioned in the early dawn after Mom worked the third shift; and a first bike, a wish-come-true birthday present given even before feet could reach the pedals –a mountain bike with wide tires to crunch the roaches in a public-housing hallway.
There were many recollections of mothers conferring status:
"She'd take me on trips just so I could see other streets and buildings and people. We'd go to New York City, and I'd come back with stories about what I'd seen and heard. I'd be thought of as the coolest kid in the neighborhood."
"It was a hug I'll never forget. I had bought new outfits for my little brother and little sister for Easter with the paycheck from my first job. She made me feel like I had earned the mint."
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