Early on, setting off to visit a prisoner, she told me to stop by, she wanted to give me something. I thought maybe a talisman or trinket for the prisoner. When I pulled up in front of her house, she was on the sidewalk with a rumpled paper bag in her hand. She gave it to me and said, “Open this when you’re a ways down the road.” I did. It was a sandwich. My favorite. It sustained me for that long day and those many miles and all these years later I’m still visiting prisoners. That was some sandwich.