Convinced more than ever that everybody is just looking for somebody who’s genuine, I went looking for a companion on my journey through the carceral state. Through a writing service connecting justice-impacted individuals with people seeking stories, I went looking for someone willing to take the luxury of being absolutely real with me. More than anything, I just wanted to be myself completely, without pulling fronts. Pretending I didn’t exist was no longer an option.
I knew in my heart I had fears and problems and wondrous questions inside of me I wanted to explore with someone authentic. I wanted to offer my beliefs and experiential wisdom on this great mysterious journey we are all on, not just make small talk. I cared about the big picture, and what the meaning behind this living is. It’s hard to be a person, so I wanted to meet someone skilled at the craft to relate to. The fact that I was incarcerated was just the least detail. This perspective has helped me become more than the circumstances I’ve endured, and the many falls I’ve gotten up from. The probability of actually connecting with another person is relatively low. A precise inversion of reality occurred, because I found the unexpected love of my life.
Correspondence between us became a triumph of love over misery. I am (perhaps) annoyingly curious. Betsy is the most consistently intriguing person I’ve ever known. Now, my search for realness is over. It’s found me, and it’s the only thing that really makes sense.
In 1947 my grandfather wrote a pen pal. Nearly seventy years later I stumbled across those letters in a box with my brother. They were the simple daily recaps shared among teenagers during a time when cellphones and the internet weren’t even thought of.
I’ve always written notes to friends of mine and the idea of writing letters to a pen pal was neatly tucked in an envelope in the back of my mind. Like a lot of things though, it got pushed to the side, moved around on the shelf and eventually put away in a box. It was briefly rekindled in 2020 when my best friend and I decided to start a letter campaign to single-handedly save the United States Postal Service. Once that faded though, the desire to write a pen pal waned again.
At least until one July afternoon when I felt that familiar itch to pick up the pen.
“Who knows where thoughts come from, they just appear,” is a line from one of my favorite movies, Empire Records, and coincidentally the most truthful way I can think to describe what prompted me to seek a pen pal that day. Something just told me to see what my options were. At the time I’d been reading Chokehold by Paul Butler and that was when it really hit me–I needed to write to someone who was incarcerated.
What happened next? Well, I suppose that’s why you’re here.
Betsy + Bear 