Sunday, September 26, 2010

Life is Like a Box of Books

Dad's prison unit has been under extreme scrutiny regarding security due to two egregious and dangerous violations.

First, there were cell phones found in the possession of inmates which proved to be an ongoing, statewide, big mother of a scandal.  Second, there was a scary but impressively diabolical escape.

Since then, visitors are now searched more thoroughly (No more gum for you, Dad!) and there have been an abundance of cell searches and lock-downs. Dad has grown tired of lugging all his books in a recycled potato sacks to the gym, so he decided enough was enough. He packed up a box of books and cleaned out his inmate trust fund to cover the postage to mail the box to me to keep in my New York City apartment.

I was curious about Dad's reading selection. He often discusses history, expresses interest in writing poetry, likes architecture and sports. Would his books reflect such diversity? Instead I opened the box to find nothing but books about infamous murders and serial killers. There were two about the Black Dahlia and two about Aileen Wuornos.

At least he's remaining true to himself.  And, to be honest, I was interested in reading every single one of them. (What is it about murder that fascinates us?) Still, perhaps I should send him a few self help books.

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