I remember starting out on the well-traveled route between my Pennsylvania factory and the Atlanta showrooms. I was an hour into the drive when I was jarred to attention by an internal voice that admonished me, saying "You never visit those in prison."
I jumped at the sudden intrusion! "Well, no I don't," I replied guiltily. In my defense I continued "but I don't KNOW anyone in prison!" "Yes, you do," came the swift reply. I thought for a long moment. Suddenly I realized the Voice was right! Eli! Eli was one of our Atlanta workers who had been arrested...on my watch, no less... on Easter Sunday morning just after sunrise.
That was a poignant story in its own right...
I had a soft spot for this one... We had been short-handed on one of our building projects and my partner, Tim, brought in a young man that he knew. He told me we'd have to keep a little eye on Eli as he'd just gotten out of prison on a drug rap. Eli was a tall, rangy blonde with piercing blue eyes, a shy grin and a sweet spirit...
Half Viking, half Cherokee... a heady combination.
I'd felt a curious compassion for him from the start... Elijah turned out to be one of our best workers. A few weeks into the job, when he needed a place to stay, I offered to put him up in one of my spare rooms. He was the perfect house guest. Grateful, helpful and considerate.
He needed healing. That much I knew. I just didn't know his circumstances.
In the months that we worked together, I watched him regain his self-esteem and start to find his place in the world again. Tim knew better than I that his progress was tenuous, but I saw nothing but his goodness. When our project deadline was met, we all breathed a sigh of relief. It had been nine hard weeks without a break, but we'd made it. To celebrate, Eli and I decided to head for Myrtle Beach for the long Easter weekend.
Eli offered to get the car checked out, change the oil and fill up the tank while I packed. He took a little too long getting back and we were making a late start. I was a little put out. "Eli...What took you so long?!" He made some minor excuse and I found myself shooting him a dark look and saying in my best New York voice "Eli! Don't play me!" When he gave me a startled look, I repeated it with force adding "I'm not kidding, Eli!" What had come over me? I never acted like that! But there it was!
We got on the road for what should have been a 5 or 6 hour drive. All we'd done was work these last months. There was no time for talk. I was curious to know his story. We got to know each other on that road trip. It would be a 12 hour journey in all... It turned out that Eli was from Myrtle Beach. He had mixed associations with the place I had picked for our getaway. His mother was still there, his father had passed. Elijah was an only child, specially named and born to a deeply religious Christian couple. His parents pinned high hopes on him while he was still in the womb. With a name like Elijah in this day and age one could imagine... His dad was away a lot and the marriage was under strain, but religion held them together. Momma worked at the courthouse. She eventually caught the eye of the judge, who helped her up the career ladder. But all was not as it seemed...
Soon after, they began an affair which was eventually discovered. Momma went on to break up the Judge's marriage, tossed her husband to the side and 'married up', as they say. A fine mansion, a rung up in society and all the spoils that came with it.
Young Eli, all of 7 years old, asked his mother "Didn't God say that adultery was a sin, Momma?" He received a hard smack across the face and from that day on, little Eli was a liability.
Young Eli knew the uncomfortable truth and would have to be put in his place. Suddenly he found himself the enemy of his mother as well as his new stepfather. He was a hindrance by his very presence. Before long, he was acting out in school and getting full punishment at every turn. He started spending time with a black family across the street. They essentially finished raising him, as he was rejected at home. That was an an embarrassment that Momma eventually remedied by consigning Eli to juvenile detention. From then on, it was a revolving door of mischief and escalating punishment. As his heart-wrenching story unfolded, I felt a kind of atmosphere descend around us in that car...as though we had stepped out of time. I don't think anyone had ever listened to Eli's story before...he was 36.
Momma was making her way up the ladder and eventually was made head of the prison that Eli was assigned to. In all those years, there was never a visit or birthday card or phone call from her. No Christmas. No family. He was brutally cut off. I began to get the picture of this young man's repeated imprisonment as a misguided cry for love or at least acknowledgment from his mother who continued to coldly reject him...over the truth of what he witnessed as a little boy.
We drove on and on through the long night and pulled into Myrtle Beach just as the sun rose on Easter Sunday morning. Twelve hours in all... Arriving in Myrtle Beach with the Easter sunrise seemed fitting. It had been an incredible night. We were so tired, but every motel was full. We drove the whole length of the strip before we found one last empty room. Once inside, Eli offered to get us some coffee and do a quick load of laundry. I gratefully accepted and stretched out on one of the beds. I closed my eyes hoping to get a bit of rest that would not come. An hour went by...and then another. I was agitated by now. Where was he? I got up and paced the floors and then I left the room and searched the street. I tried to make light of things and walk the beach but my restlessness grew to alarm. 'Eli!! Where ARE you?! What's going on??!!' I spent a miserable day going back and forth to the room, checking to see if he returned. Finally around 3 pm the phone rang. A policeman was calling to see if I was the owner of a Camaro and if I had let someone else drive it? I was...and yes, I did. Then I was informed that I could come reclaim my car at the police station. Eli had been stopped because my tag had expired and a rear light had gone out. He was being detained after a search of the car had turned up electronic scales...the kind used for drug trafficking. I told the officer that those were mine. They were used in my potpourri business on a routine basis. He was not convinced. It seems Eli had used his one phone call to call an old buddy to come check my car. Eli had hidden 3 bricks of marijuana under the back seat! Eli would be detained and I would be free to reclaim my car and return home. I suddenly understood the missing time at the outset of the trip and my tough mood. 'Eli! Don't play me!' Spirit is never wrong...
The detective was good enough to tell me the whole story of Eli's run-ins with the law. Eli had a rap sheet as long as the officer's arm. His information corroborated Eli's version of the childhood events, but much was added to the narrative of his adult life. It was heart-breaking to leave him behind and see him cycle back into his old pattern...and prison......
So... It was time for me to visit Eli in prison. It had been a year since I had seen him. That was what prompted the change of course that landed me on the road to Supply that day......(an excerpt from the story of Supply)
I made it to the prison before visiting hours ended. Eli was glad to see a friend. I would be his only visitor during his time in prison...