It was the Spring of 2018. The OMAG members and I were told that there would be a “de-population” at the minimum-security, reintegration prison in which we rehearsed. What did that mean? The prison administration said that the reintegration center would be undergoing significant construction (primarily roofing), so they needed to place the residents in other prisons. Our prison sponsor also noted that the reintegration center would be for “short-timers” only: a drug treatment rehab center for alleged offenders who would be incarcerated for 45-90 days. What did this all mean for the OMAG Choir, however?
The men recounted stories of residents being moved without warning to another prison location, without being able to notify their family members of their new location. How would I feel if I were unknowingly plucked from my environment and placed in a location in which my family and friends did not know my whereabouts? The men and I had a “goodbye pact”, knowing that at the end of each rehearsal, we did not know who would return to the next rehearsal. We agreed that we would “just know” that we had said our goodbyes and that our hearts traveled with each other. I’ll not forget the day that one of the choir’s “founding fathers” suddenly didn’t show up. This was a fragile person who worked hard to confront his personal issues that had led him to prison. This was a person who was sensitive and didn’t initially know he could sing. This was a person who blushed easily, had “found” religion, and learned to exist within a group of singers. His absence was palpable. And yet we all knew what had happened. It broke my heart.
Person by person in the choir was either released from prison or re-assigned to another prison. Finally, there were four OMAG members who remained in the “choir.” A decision had to be made. This wasn’t really a choir any longer, but I didn’t want to “give up” on the four men who still showed up each Friday afternoon for our 90-minute sing-along. I spoke to the men in mid-December, and we determined we would suspend the OMAG Choir. After three years, was this all there was? A final teary goodbye?
My thoughts darted all over the place on my drive home from the prison. Was I just another person who now abandoned these men? Did I try hard enough to recruit for the choir? A million self-examining questions. Then it occurred to me: I am no longer a prison choir director. My time had been served. I was well satisfied by the many experiences the singers and I had shared and was somewhat willing to entertain the idea that my prison work had ended.
Now it’s January 2019. I received an email from a prison administrator asking me “what I needed…anything” to restart the choir. Ummm…well, choir participants who would consistently show up for rehearsal would be a start! (I stated this response less sarcastically to the email writer!). In an email response, this person then asked if I would be willing to start a choir at the Grafton Correctional Institution, the medium-security prison, just “down the road” from the reintegration center where the OMAG Choir originated. Medium-security…(at this point, you might want to review the first posts of this blog, for the questions I asked then found their way back to me.)
My first “interest session” at the GCI: we met in a large space and there were over 50 men who attended. I remember only one thing—their eyes. For some reason, the residents’ eyes seemed piercing to my very core. What was that about? What was this feeling? Ah, this was a new group. I was doubting if I could be successful starting up another prison choir; was the first choir just a fluke experience? The residents didn’t know the musical joy the original OMAG Choir and I had experienced together. There was no musical history between us. This was ground zero, a potentially new beginning. What were they thinking and feeling? Why did they attend this interest session? What were their musical backgrounds and expectations for the OMAG Choir v.2?
And then I asked a question that I hadn’t planned to ask the residents: “When I leave here today, how many of you will come to the first rehearsal?” Most of the men raised their hands. One person, whom I had met at the reintegration center and who was re-located to the GCI, then asked me: “Will YOU return for a first rehearsal?”
Our first OMAG rehearsal v.2 was the first week of February 2019; 37 men and I attended.
Singing Behind Bars 