The senses recoil when you walk into a high-security prison. A pungent mix of mildew, old food, and rancid mop water buries itself in your nostrils. Drab cinderblock walls and cracked linoleum floors stretch to infinity, screaming of dehumanization. But the faces and body language of those who watch you walk by are the most …
Tag: Father
“Time To Move Along”
The first concrete memory I have of Joseph Fraser Vincent, Sr. was on the day after the night I brought his daughter home from a date an hour and a half after her curfew. In my “defense,” both he and his wife, Fran, were out of town until Sunday night — this was on Friday. …