Yesterday I had a wonderful experience as I met with 70 inmates at the Shawnee Correctional Center. I spoke for two hours on my latest book, “Mnemosyne: A Love Affair with Memory,” which deals with childhood physical and sexual abuse. As I expected, we do sing the same song, that haunting melody I had referred to in an earlier blog. The strongest connection came when I said, “You can’t know what you don’t know.” I heard the wheels in their brains begin to turn like a dormant steel mill that hadn’t run for years. We talked about how we all know the difference between right and wrong, but we have been programmed to act out, which dominants our desire to do the right thing. Our behavior can be traced back to our childhood — physical and sexual abuse, no role models, and an inability to know how to trust, to feel, and ultimately to love. Yes, we sang the same song, but now we began to harmonize. It was a beautiful moment, one that I would love to repeat.
Larry L Franklin holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music from the University of Illinois and Southern Illinois University. He performed in the U.S. Navy Band located in Washington, D.C. from 1967 to 1971. From 1972 to 1975, he taught music at Southern Illinois University. In 1976, he completed requirements for a certified financial planner designation and maintained a successful investment business until 2007 when he retired to devote his energies to writing. In 2003, he received an MFA in Creative Non-Fiction from Goucher College in Baltimore, Maryland.
Franklin is the author of “Mnemosyne: A Love Affair with Memory,” published by Xlibris; “The Rita Nitz Story: A Life without Parole,” published by Southern Illinois University Press; “Cherry Blossoms & Barron Plains: A woman’s journey from mental illness to a prison cell,” published by Chipmunka Publishing Company; and “Supermax Prison: Controlling the most dangerous criminals,” published by History Publishing Company. He currently resides in southern Illinois with his wife, Paula.
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Yesterday I had a wonderful experience as I met with 70 inmates at the Shawnee Correctional Center. I spoke for two hours on my latest book, “Mnemosyne: A Love Affair with Memory,” which deals with childhood physical and sexual abuse. As I expected, we do sing the same song, that haunting melody I had referred to in an earlier blog. The strongest connection came when I said, “You can’t know what you don’t know.” I heard the wheels in their brains begin to turn like a dormant steel mill that hadn’t run for years. We talked about how we all know the difference between right and wrong, but we have been programmed to act out, which dominants our desire to do the right thing. Our behavior can be traced back to our childhood — physical and sexual abuse, no role models, and an inability to know how to trust, to feel, and ultimately to love. Yes, we sang the same song, but now we began to harmonize. It was a beautiful moment, one that I would love to repeat.