A friend of 19 years

I met Obadyah through a letter.  I was 20 years old and on my way to Zimbabwe for a women’s studies program.  The chaplain who gave me Obadyah’s name and address had spoken at my university at a symposium on the death penalty.  I had been disturbed by the fact that I had no real opinion on the death penalty, and so I sought out that chaplain after the panel discussion ended.  It was a bold step for me at that time; I was a pretty insecure individual when it came to everything academic.  I almost never spoke up in class, and certainly rarely found my way to the front of an enormous lecture hall to seek out those whose credentials intimidated me.  I am thankful that I mustered up the courage that night.  And so it was, 19 years ago I began corresponding with a man who, at the time, was on death row in Indiana.  This is a man whose friendship has become one of the most profound relationships I’ve ever established. 

I am working on a website to raise public awareness about Obadyah's wrongful conviction.  For 26 years now he has been claiming his innocence and fighting for his freedom.  When it comes to compassion, I sometimes wonder who supports whom.  I'm reading through the 19 years worth of letters I have received from Obadyah as I put together the website, and I stumbled across this:

"I wish that I could inherit your feelings, filter out the not so good ones, and give you back he ones that conjure up that radiant, beautiful smile or yours. This, of course, is only a wish, but I hope that for the moment the gesture provides you with occasion to smile."