April 2005

This is from the last series of photos I took of Whit before Terre Haute. For his birthday I took him gliding - the first time for both of us. For his actual birthday Diane and I planned a few things like seeing a live acoustic band at a local record store, lunch and frisbee in the park, but Whit said afterwards he really wanted just the two of us to do something. This did the trick. Unsure of the exact date, but around 4 or 5 days after his actual birthday of April 10. The instructor is showing him the controls here. I know I took a lot of photos that afternoon, but this is the only one I can come up with.

From Emory, also

Read at Whit's memorial:

Hands holding hands, arms embraced, lives entwined, the fabric we share as a human race

In all things done boundaries stretched, each path pursued the soul will test

Heart’s twisted from forces unseen, unnamed; rend from us tears of love and pain

Given sight we stumble, seeing through a prism, given freedom we hesitate and ourselves imprison

What is death’s share of the bargain we make

Wings or flesh, does it give or take

Answers hidden, knowledge in a language unspoken, humanity rises in waves unbroken

Timed to a silent metronome, each wave of life crashes on death’s shore

Breakers uncovering crystals of sparkling sand sliding back into Mother Sea once more

In the face of this spectacle, as answers are sought, there is reawakening to my sense of purpose and thought

A time of remembrance that I am not the sand, the wave nor the sea, but rather, they are me

So we are not Whitney but now he is us. He has been consumed and integrated into each of us that know him. He is nourishing to our beings isn’t he? Between the moments of anguish and ecstasy isn’t life a magnificent struggle? Clarity of purpose and meaning are gifts bestowed to few of us. Questions will always outnumber answers. Pain often outpaces pleasure. It can be hard to feel, let alone measure the benefits that we earn through hardship. While clothed in these human forms we’ll never fully understand what lies behind life’s curtain. But I often think that this life is a lesson in love. In giving, receiving, sharing and expanding our capacity to love under the most trying circumstances

And I could thank you all for joining us today and sharing your love for Whitney and our family, but I only have to open my eyes a little wider to see that there is no ‘you’ and ‘us’. WE are all one family here; all Whit’s family. And I wish the best of luck to each of us in our personal lessons of love.

March 21, 2009

While I still don't have perfect clarity about where the blog goes now, it seems like letters from Whit to me, and perhaps a few to him, might be good. I want to start with the last one I received from Whit, dated March 21, 2009. Although he had had no phone or visiting privileges for over a year - which is not even normal for solitary confinement, which usually allows visits 'through the glass' and monthly phone calls, he was able now and then to sweet talk a CO into letting him call me. He'd obviously written this just after the last call. There is nothing unusual about this letter. References to the exchange rate reflect his awareness that it affects my income. "Grandpa" is his maternal grandfather, whom he was close with and who manages my IRA - beautifully, under the circumstances. Other comments in brackets will always be mine.

Hey Dad!

What's crackin'? Another great call today. Hopefully you enjoyed it at least half as much as I did. What's kind of weird is the fact that in situations like that when there are a hundred different things to talk about, conversation is sometimes the toughest because I never know what is important enough to justify spending one of those fifteen precious minutes talking about. You sounded good. Glad you were able to get out in the yard today (or a few days ago, by the time this arrives.) I know it's looking like a fantastic day out this way.

Sounded like things are running pretty smoothly back home, which is really great to know. Actually, without attempting to make myself sound self-pitying or whatever, it seems almost inconceivable to me to live a life where for weeks and often months no major dramas occur either to me or at least within my vicinity. Yet another thing I'm looking forward to when coming home.

Hey! I noticed the U.S. dollar has been taking a major pounding lately! Yay! I know on Thursday, the last rate I've seen, it was back to well over $1.30 versus the Euro. Seems kind of unusual when our stock markets are strengthening. Why is that? Does it have to do with all the new money the Fed. Reserve is pumping into the country? This is another reason why I'm looking forward so much to doing an economics course or two from O.U. Even if I don't do exceptionally well with the material, I should at least have a decent understanding of it which should mean the things I read in the money section of the newspaper take on a whole new meaning. Well, if not NEW than at least a greater meaning.

Thanks for explaining the situation with your investments/IRA a little more. You mentioned that you've lost 1/3 to 1/2 of the value compared to 2 years ago. Can you elaborate on that a little more? For a simple example, let's say your IRA was worthy $10,000 two years ago and then... oh, reading that passage again I understand now so no need to elaborate. Wow, that sucks. Such a considerable loss seems astounding when I consider the fact that Grandpa was managing your portfolio throughout this entire time. That means that either he made some seriously bad decisions or I guess it means that a lot of other people came out a lot worse than you. What a depressing topic, though. Moving on...

I really like your idea of converting your backyard into a landscaped garden. Yeah, it's not a whole lot of space but then again, I learned from our tomato growing adventures that sometimes it only takes a few plants to produce quite a bit of food at certain times. Those tomatoes were definitely delicious, although even with oregano, six or seven a day got to be a little much. Well, whenever your garden plan happens to come to fruition, I do have one request - sugar snap peas, and lots of them.

Great pictures!! Of downtown and Hyde Park Square. I'd forgotten that the fountains wouldn't have actually been turned on, though. Oh well, it was still a refreshing sight. I've got two of them taped up to The Wall next to my bunk.
[Whit had recently asked me to take and send photographs of two locations in Cincinnati that had special meaning for him.]

It's nice that you went to Esme's memorial. Were there very many people there who didn't actually know Tom, Lisa or Esme and were just there to show support? Reading about the drawings she'd done as a kid hanging from the walls at the memorial at first made me consider how, despite what difficulties we had (and still have, sometimes), things could still be worse. But then I realized the condition Esme's parents must be in having endured the worst-case scenario. The way you described your state during the service was vivid. I'm trying to find a way to empathize but it seems impossible. You've endured an incredible amount during your life and now this tragedy which, even at its distance, is much too close for comfort. I wish I could offer some advice or say something hopeful. You're the Dad, though - that's your job :-). You're in my mind all the time, whatever that's worth. Hopefully you're able to keep in mind how much good you've done in your life and how much success you've had. Without even mentioning the obvious things like a Ph.D., a great house with friends who care a lot about you, and just generally being a man someone should strive to be, there's also me. The fact that I've been in quite a bit of trouble throughout my life is a reflection of my failures as a son. But the fact that a kid like me who dropped out after 9 years of school can be at least moderately intelligent and open-minded as I am is a concrete example of your success as a father. I've been incredibly lucky to have the father I do.

Alright, I'm going to let you go now. Hopefully this finds you in much better spirits than you were in when you wrote this letter of the 12th. Thank you for being so open with me, though. I miss you and love you.

Your son,
Whit

From Brian

Diane read this from Brian at Whit's memorial.

When I first arrived at USP Terre Haute I knew there was not going to be a lot of people that I could count on. In a place where you always have to watch your back and automatically know to trust no one you have to be careful who you become friends with. Smitty was one of the first people I met. From the very beginning he looked out for me, giving me my first pair of shoes and shorts, and ultimately preparing me for what to expect as I settled into a place where I would be spending the next few years of my life. We continued being friends after that, but got a lot closer when we were placed into a cell in solitary confinement together. If you read his blogs I am referred to as Brad. Having the life of a prisoner is not easy and laughter rarely occurs, but if you have read his blogs it is something Smitty and I did a lot together. Prison may not be the life that either of us planned or wanted, but we tried to make the best of it and got through each day the best we could. I can honestly say he will probably be the only person I meet in my life that can make Christmas cookies out of candy bars, but hey, we were not going to miss out on holiday goodies just because we were in prison... ha ha. He was always good for creating a good laugh and turning something negative into a positive. Smitty is the most honorable person I have ever met. He was honest, smart, respectful, and an amazing writer. Out of 1500 men in this place I can truthfully admit to only having two good friends that I can trust and depend on, and sadly now that number has decreased to one. I will never forget the many memories of the times we had together or the amazing person he was and always will be. So many people want to look down on prisoners like we are not people. We have all made mistakes, but that does not define us. I wish everyone could have had the opportunity to get to know the person I knew, not Whitney Smith the criminal, but Whitney Smith the person, because we would all be better people. I am privileged to know him and to have the opportunity to call him my friend. Smitty, you will not be forgotten and may your voice continue to tell your story, for you, and for all of us here at USP Terre Haute.

I love you and I will miss you man!

Brian


And this "from Vroom and Whitney's many friends at USP Terre Haute":

SMITTY - What happened is such a tragedy. You were always there for us. You are an amazing guy and we will always remember the time we spent together. Your homeboys love you and miss you man. We will never forget you.