A Jamie Rudman Story

“I’ve been incarcerated for almost all my life. I used to be an alcoholic and an addict, but now I’ve been sober for 2 years and 11 months—one day at a time. I don’t drink no more, I have a job, and I try to go to church.”

“How did you change?”

“I got tired of living like that.”

“I want to be a comedian. A lot of people in my class think I’m funny. Sometimes it can be hard to think of a good joke that isn’t about Trump. But even if you don’t get any laughs, you can usually just keep silent for a few minutes and try again. Sometimes I accidentally make jokes that only I get. Like the other day I tried to tell a joke about that lady who handed out cashews instead of candy for Halloween. But only my friend Aiden knew about the Cashew Lady so nobody laughed. But then later my teacher asked where I got my sources for my constitutional rights paper. And I told her I got them from ‘a sorcerer.’ Even she laughed at that one.”

“I normally don’t tell people I’m a Christian because they assume you’re a zealot, or parochial, or close-minded. And I don’t think I’m any of those things. I go to a progressive church. We bring in great speakers and do a lot of volunteering. My religion is just a centering part of my life. It gives me guideposts. It gives me a code of ethics and helps me see dignity in other people. Sure, there’s a storybook nature to it. And it can be a shame that people focus so much on the story. I'd rather focus on the message the story conveys."

"A lot of younger people pass by me while I’m running. It’s a bit of a metaphor for the rest of my life. I turned forty-seven in October. I’m starting to have bosses that are younger than me. It’s causing me to question what my experience is worth. I’m noticing that my younger colleagues are more adventurous and take more risks—either because they don’t know about failure or they don’t care. As I get older, I feel like more and more of my life is outside my control. That’s why I started training for the marathon. I want to be in control of something. I can’t control current events. I can’t control politics. I can’t even control my personal relationships. But I can control my legs. I can put one leg in front of the other. I can decide the miles that I run each day, each week, each month. And it feels great. I get a rush every time I make it to the top of a hill."

“I’ve been at the same company for nine years. I should have moved up by now. But I’ve just never been good at office politics. I assumed my work ethic and performance would be enough. But some people are just better at getting recognized. They ingratiate themselves with the boss. They have no problem taking credit for other people’s work. They’ll diminish your accomplishments and inflate their own. I’d never go that far. But I’m not waiting to get noticed anymore. If I beat a deadline, solve a tough problem, or get great feedback from a customer—I’m copying upper management on the email.”

“I found out on my 21st birthday that my dad was leaving my mom. At first I was angry with him. It seemed extremely selfish. But when I finally agreed to talk to him, he told me that he’d been depressed for five years. He told me that he’d felt trapped in his life and his marriage. He even told me that one night he drove out to a bridge, thought about killing himself, and only changed his mind at the last minute. Part of me empathizes with him. I never realized he was hiding this depression from us. But at the same time he made choices that really hurt our family. So I’m trying to figure out what blame he deserves. At what point is a person with mental illness still responsible for their choices?”