Last July, as she has for the past 10 times, Dianne Jones devoted 45 times on a town bus heading to the local WalMart. There, under fluorescent lights, she searched sequences of brightly colored birthday placards to pick out the excellent greeting for her son–let’s summon him Tim–who is imprisoned more than 100 miles from his mother’s dwelling just outside New Orleans. The poster she settled on was dark brown with trees and a birthday sense that predicted, “For the best lad in the world.”
Tim was in his 10 th time of a 30 -year prison sentence for the purposes of an armed robbery he committed at age 17; he would not be able to see, let alone sit under or stroke, a tree for the next 20 times.( Citing safety concerns, Jones asked that her son’s epithet not be used .) After Jones, her daughter, and her three grandchildren signed the card, she mailed it off, happy that Tim would know that their own families was thinking of him.