Reality of a Prison Writer 18—- E.C. Theus-Roberts
Friendship is a rare thing in Prison. So often, and these are unfortunate truths, prison means you must be on the watch for treachery, usurers, manipulation, ulterior motives, mendacity, hidden rancor and harmful intents; not to forget, misery loves company and that company generally comes in violence—physical, verbal mental.
The venerable Bard has never been more right: “False face must hide what the false heart doth know.”
Subterfuge seems to be the modus operandi and modus vivendi of prison. Everyone—guards included—sports a mask. Truth is a greedily guarded treasure.
I’ve never seen anything stranger in my life. Prison will make you doubt humanity, in the worst of cases. In the best, you’ll think people suck.
Prison imposes so many difficulties to building normal, genuine relationships. People have this belief prisoners are always up to or after something. That’s why I cherish the very few friendships I’ve been lucky enough to cultivate.
My very good friend wrote me, recently, an effusive letter thanking me for helping him get his work before a producing artistic director of a theater company. He asked how he could pay me back? How he could return the favor? My response was simple: What more are friends for?
Sincerity is rare in prison. Rarer still is altruism. I did what I could because that’s what you do for your friends—pasar los de Cain.
Still, I have to be honest…When I read his most welcome news, I did feel a rather unaltruistic sense of pride. Then again, between vicarious joy at his happiness and my own at being able to help a friend and talented colleague.
I doubt anybody would begrudge me a teensy bit of pride.
Prison Writers Support Organization 