“Baruch atah Adonai, noten ha’torah”, I passionately chanted before my friends, family, and the congregation of Beth Shalom. Those five Hebrew words, which had been ingrained in my memory over the past months, concluded my first aliyot; according to Rabbi Kosman, I was now a full-fledged man. No longer would I be sidelined to the kids’ table at family events nor constrained by the 10 o’clock lights-out policy. Rather, I would enjoy all the benefits that seemed to come from adulthood: rated-R movies, the occasional sip of wine at the dinner table, and access to my own personal finances.
Unfortunately, that extraordinary vision of freedom vanished within the week. My parents did not acknowledge my overnight metamorphosis into adulthood, …show more content…
I was shocked to find that its off-white walls, studded with reinforced-steel doors, were oddly filled with children: a stark contrast to the stern prison guards and orange-jumpsuit-wearing prisoners of my imagination. Those bright-eyes were here every Sunday from 11-12 to visit their incarcerated parent: a whole week of riveting experiences were condensed into one measly hour. These brief visits were concluded with melancholy goodbyes and heartfelt see you next weeks. I watched the families part ways and reality rushed In. I realized that a physical barrier would once again be dividing a child from his parent; I was truly fortunate to have a father painting by my …show more content…
Each time, more and more disparities between myself and these members of the community became glaringly apparent: oversized handmedowns took the place of new clothes; older siblings filled the role of a parent, looking after numerous little brothers and sisters. The adolescent visitors seemed to be accompanied by a sense of shame for being related to a prisoner. These realizations aligned with the tinkering of my design. A sense of hope for a brighter future was clearly needed to enliven this bleak setting. Using a vibrant palette filled with various shades of red, yellow, and orange, I painted a sun rising over a cityscape. Watching it eclipse over the building was a family, holding hands, welcoming in a new day.
The expectation of transitioning into an adult at the age of 13 was radical to say the least. Rather, my maturation began, unexpectedly, with the simple act of painting a mural. An experience that opened my eyes to difficulties of the world and showed me how important it is to give hope to those who are
Unfortunately, that extraordinary vision of freedom vanished within the week. My parents did not acknowledge my overnight metamorphosis into adulthood, …show more content…
I was shocked to find that its off-white walls, studded with reinforced-steel doors, were oddly filled with children: a stark contrast to the stern prison guards and orange-jumpsuit-wearing prisoners of my imagination. Those bright-eyes were here every Sunday from 11-12 to visit their incarcerated parent: a whole week of riveting experiences were condensed into one measly hour. These brief visits were concluded with melancholy goodbyes and heartfelt see you next weeks. I watched the families part ways and reality rushed In. I realized that a physical barrier would once again be dividing a child from his parent; I was truly fortunate to have a father painting by my …show more content…
Each time, more and more disparities between myself and these members of the community became glaringly apparent: oversized handmedowns took the place of new clothes; older siblings filled the role of a parent, looking after numerous little brothers and sisters. The adolescent visitors seemed to be accompanied by a sense of shame for being related to a prisoner. These realizations aligned with the tinkering of my design. A sense of hope for a brighter future was clearly needed to enliven this bleak setting. Using a vibrant palette filled with various shades of red, yellow, and orange, I painted a sun rising over a cityscape. Watching it eclipse over the building was a family, holding hands, welcoming in a new day.
The expectation of transitioning into an adult at the age of 13 was radical to say the least. Rather, my maturation began, unexpectedly, with the simple act of painting a mural. An experience that opened my eyes to difficulties of the world and showed me how important it is to give hope to those who are