Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

August 25

By Gail Valla

Before me stood a tall man, about sixty years old. He

had a perfect crew cut, even though it was not the current

style. He had bright blue eyes and wore a wide smile. He

extended his right hand to mine, simultaneously reaching

his left hand to my shoulder. It had been the warmest

greeting I'd received in over three years. Then he handed

me a business card that read " J. Cook " on one side

and " Happy Birthday to me - Remember August 25 " on the

other.

I had been startled by his humility because I already

knew who he was. The inmates referred to him as their

" guardian angel. " He was the counselor to the Project

Workers at the Plummer Community Corrections Center, a

work-release facility.

Project Workers are inmates who have a prison sentence

but are permitted to serve their sentence at the Center

instead of a traditional prison facility. Project Workers

are the cooks, maintenance people, groundskeepers,

janitors, receptionists, switchboard operators and mail

sorters. Project Workers who have their GEDs or their high

school diplomas also serve as peer tutors to help others

earn theirs. The Plummer Center Project Workers are also

involved in community projects, from mowing lawns at

churches to clearing snow from city streets and sidewalks.

The workers live in a converted house called the

Mandatory Building. Their bunk beds are in a crowded

bedroom instead of a cell. The building has a kitchen,

dining room table, living room furniture and a TV. When

the workers' loved ones comes to visit, they may hug them

and eat the food prepared especially for them.

One worker shared, " As Dr. Cook and I sat and talked,

I realized that he knew more about me that I know about

myself. As we spoke about my crimes and my shortcomings,

truth was the only option. There was no room for excuses

or blaming others. He listened intently without judging or

pitying me. "

Dr. Cook would ask a worker, " Did you use your

incarceration time wisely? " Then he'd briefly review their

various responsibilities and how they were responsible to

be on-call twenty-four hours a day. He'd say, " Your

integrity must be beyond reproach. Nothing less will be

tolerated. "

After Dr. Cook met with a worker, he'd stand up, shake

their hand and say, " Doctor, nice talking with you. " He

called people Doctor when he forgot their names. In spite

of that, he still left the workers feeling more positive

about themselves.

Dr. Cook escorted the workers to funerals, weddings,

hospitals to visit a family member or to a train station

when it was time to go home. I'd watch him take them

through the prison gates. He could have used a state-owned

car, but I knew he didn't, because the license plate read

" AUG 25. "

Dr. Cook not only gave of his car, but he gave

of himself. He was always there to guide the workers. He

was a mentor, friend and critic - even if it hurt. He was

a man with a colorful sense of humor. He had a basement

full of treasures he stored for the inmates until their

release and a phone bill lined with collect calls.

What did this man expect in return? Birthday cards,

no matter whether they were from a store, homemade or from

a computer. It didn't matter, but he only wanted one

signature per card. He was even known to buy a box of

cards and hand them out. He received cards from inmates

released years before. Many had moved to other states and

new successful lives. Dick Cook loved his birthday and

everyone knew it.

On October 15, 1997, the Earth stood still. Our most

beloved Dr. J. Cook passed away in the place he

loved - the Plummer Center's Mandatory Building -

surrounded by those he loved and those who loved him.

The Mandatory Building was renamed. The Cook Building

and a tree now stand there in his honor. People still send

birthday cards every year to our facility on August 25,

even though they know Dr. Cook is no longer physically

here. His spirit is alive and well. Thank you, Dr. Cook,

and happy birthday.