Confession #15: Dads Matter

3-Inch Pumps, Rampaging Elephants, and A Baby From New Orleans

I don’t know what I expected the first time I visited my son in prison, but it wasn't the 3-inch red vinyl heels that teetered across the waiting room floor. Nor the young kids trailing behind them.

Let's not judge.

In a place that will turn you away for a rip in the knee of your jeans— tank tops, white T-shirts, skirts above the knee, shorts, and all form-fitting (or excessively baggie) clothing items are strictly forbidden. That woman in the pumps was giving her husband the only visual he is allowed to have in our State prisons while carrying the full weight of their three children.