The Mailbag: July 17, 2022

This Week's Letter

I FELT YOUR TEARDROPS FALL

Another saturday afternoon
Visitors come and go
as blank faces stare through steel encased glass
Staring at the women
Staring at the clothes
Mostly staring at the yesterdays they now enjoy only in their minds

A voice comes on the radio and turns my head
and brings me back from the yesterdays to now

YELL DOWN THE PIPE CHASE
FLUSH THE TOILETS
THIS IS THE PRISON PROGRAM

It's you
You've come for our weekly hour visit
You've come to lift my spirits above this 3 sided tomb
Above the slamming dominoes
Above the hustlers and snitches
Away from the muligans
Away from this gestapo system

We start the visit with humorous ridicules of the  establishment
Make plans
Read letters
and I kept my pen and paper always at ready
For addresses
For penpals
For ideas you share with me

10 15 then 30 minutes gone
You begin to tell me of a man I never knew
You say he was your friend

You told me of how your beginnings came together from differant past
Of a late night confession
that turned into the spring of your lives
Friendship blooming
with sprigs of eternity sprouting around the 2 of you

My own mind drifted back
Back through the doors of my past
Back to the small midwestern town
Back to the friend I once had

Minutes ticked on
as you told me how your friend was always there for you
Through differrent committees
Rallies
Activities
Through happiness
Through the sickness of your mother
and through the final farewell to your sister

AND NOW YOU SAY HE'S GONE

Gone not just from you
but from all of us
Gone because •••••• of a cop's murderous bullet
Because of ignorance
Because your friend was differrent
or was it because of fear because the cop knew what he
himself really was and would not admit it

My breathing came in long inward hales
Nostrils flared
My jaws tingled and became tight
and my chest became heavy

I listened further to your slow monitored voice
and find myself afraid to speak for fear my voice
will also be cracked and labored

Your plea goes out
BE AT THE TRIAL
DON'T LET THIS PASS WITHOUT LETTING THEM KNOW
THAT WE KNOW

I cannot come
Solid steel and numbers given by others
hold me tight
But
on that saturday afternoon
I felt your teardrops fall
Down my burning cheeks
Down my naked chest
and now you know
as do I
Together
We've lost our friend and brother

Editor's Note

This week's mail comes unsigned, undated, and with no identifying information. It most likely dates from 1980 or shortly after and was sent to The Prison Show. The death in question seems likely to be that of Fred Paez.

• Fred Paez retrospective from Wilde-N-Stein:

As always, comments, corrections, and additions are welcome. Contact Us

About The Mailbag

The letters posted here were among the boxes recovered from 419 Lovett Blvd, as documented in The Mighty 90 Project post and are reminiscent of the work done at Found Magazine and PostSecret. The vast majority of letters date from the mid-1970s to the mid-1980s, although some newer materials of more recent vintage have been supplied by programmers.

Historically KPFT would, on occasion, read letters on the air and in some cases the letter writers explicitly ask NOT to be so presented. Attitudes towards consent and personal privacy are very different in 2022 as compared to the time these letters were mailed and no one then writing could have imagined the modern internet, much less this type of public sharing.

Accordingly, whenever a letter has personally identifiable information from a correspondent it will be lightly redacted to protect the privacy of the original author.