6. Unsinkable Souls

Un-sink-able Soul : Person who faces any challenge with hope, humor and heart. See stick-to-it-ness. See perseverance. See pit bull. See also victory.

The first book I sent this mysterious inmate, the first of many, was a Chicken Soup Book. Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul. It had been given to me at a particularly low time in my life and had lifted my spirits. Knowing that he was locked up in solitary confinement, void of any extrasensory stimulation, I hoped it would do the same for him. "Is there anything else I can do?", I asked. And the requests began. Ever so slightly. It wasn't money as I expected. He wanted names, and addresses and documents. These small tasks would eventually get me involved and a host of situations, including an unsolved homicide that occurred in Polk County over a decade ago.

The first thing he wanted to know was if I had a computer and did I have internet access. The deluge of requests poured in. He sent me a lists of addresses he needed. The Lakeland Ledger, the Tampa Tribune, NBC News Action 8, Associated Press in Florida and an attorney. "She represented me in the Serrano matter. I really need her phone number" he wrote.

Then he wrote that he had a huge problem. He told me to Google the name "Lighthouse Ministries" and when I found it, I was to call the number and ask for a guy named Tony. I was to tell Tony that a resident named Billy had stored Todd's legal papers somewhere at the shelter and to please find them and then Todd would make arrangements to have them picked up. It was urgent as these documents could not be replaced.

That's really how this story began. A simple box of legal papers left at a homeless shelter. It would take me almost a year to get them back for Todd. Looking back, if I had known how important that box would become in my life, I'd have driven to Florida that night to retrieve them myself. Now I sit and type my story as fast as I can. At the moment of this writing, there is a legitimate fear that a I will soon hear a knock on my door from a process server or a sheriff's deputy with a subpoena asking for my computer. (If my blog stops, it will only be temporarily. I have made arrangements if the inevitable happens. I've learned to be savvy and err on the side of caution where lawyers and law enforcement are concerned.)

I made the call as requested. I spoke with Tony and told him why I was calling. Tony put the phone down for a few minutes and I could hear him hollering at this Billy person in the background. Evidently, storing one of the resident's belongings was a big no-no. Tony came back to the phone to tell me he had found Todd's box of papers stashed in the boiler room. I could make arrangements to send for them. As for Billy, he was evicted from the shelter that day for his part in storing these papers, i.e.; breaking the rules. I've often worried about Billy. I've worried about what happens when a homeless person gets evicted from a shelter. He had done Todd a great deed in hanging onto those papers. Somewhere on the streets of Lakeland Florida, is a homeless person that's got a heart of gold. When all this is over, I have every intention of coming back to Lakeland and searching for Billy, if he's still alive. And when I do, he won't be homeless anymore.

I wrote to Todd telling him his records were safe and I listed all the addresses for which he had asked. Now I had some questions for him.

(excerpts from the original letter dated 11/2/06)

Tell me more about your cell. Do you have a window? What about the other guys in area? I mean, I know why you are in ISO (solitary confinement) but - gulp - why are the other guys in there? Do you get to go outside? Can you see the stars? Do you sleep okay? Do you ever get cold? What do you miss the most? What's the first thing you want to do when you get out? You mentioned a counselor, do you have someone in there you can talk to besides other cell mates?

I had lots of questions. I had no idea what it was like to be behind bars. Especially in ISO, aka "the hole". I often thought about locking myself up in my bathroom as a sort of psychological experiment. Just to see what it was like and how long I could take it. I was beginning to worry about this inmate. Of course, I'm a Christian, I care for everybody. When you are a Christian you can't help but care. What I didn't see then, was that I was beginning to care a little more each day for this guy. And I anxiously waited for Phyllis, my mail lady, to bring me the next letter.