Oak Forest residents Michelle Alfano and Jackie Spreadbury, both former school teachers, love sharing their love of reading, and in doing so they’re making a difference among a forgotten population — those in jail and prison.
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They and other volunteers send out 2,000 books monthly through Midwest Books to Prisoners, a nonprofit that operates out of First Lutheran Church of the Trinity on Chicago’s South Side. The group sends books and publications to inmates in federal prisons nationwide, as well as state prisons and county jails in the Midwest.
Alfano and Spreadbury spend dozens of hours weekly on the project, taking collect calls from prisoners, holding video chats, sending them handwritten letters and cards, and, before the pandemic, sometimes visiting in person.
Even just a book can make a big difference.
Life during the pandemic at Cook County Jail was hard enough for Luis Hernandez, stuck in a cell up to 24 hours per day, munching on cold food and with no visitors. Hernandez felt rattled.
Then things took a turn for the worse as he got into more trouble in July 2020 and wound up in the “hole,” where he was often in handcuffs and allowed only a brief phone call once a week.
A few months later, Hernandez and his cellmate received the Harry Potter series of books.
It changed his life.
“It made me focus on something else,” Hernandez said.
“They (characters in the series) speak to each other no matter what. I learned through the book, they’re still going to be family forever.”
Hernandez, 25, who grew up in Chicago’s Little Village neighborhood, has been locked up since 2012 in connection with a homicide. He said he felt forgotten by family and friends until he heard from the nonprofit and received the series.
“It made me feel like people supported me,” said Hernandez. “I’m really grateful for people like them.”
Postage for each medium box of books costs $5.50, and the duo send 400 boxes monthly. Some of the $1,200 monthly cost is covered by donations, but much of it comes from their own pockets. Several inmates, moved by their books and moral support, have even chipped in.
“The books took them out of jail,” Alfano said.
The goal is to transform lives through compassion and education, focusing on where inmates are now rather than past misdeeds. They hope to inspire prisoners to do their best, telling them how special they are.
“Along the way, you become what people think of you,” said Spreadbury, who is in law school now and plans to become a public defender.
Alfano has decades of experience as a prisoner advocate. As a teacher at Eisenhower High School, she encouraged her students in Blue Island to write to American prisoners abroad. After retiring last year, she got involved with Midwest Books to Prisoners.
They send classics, fantasy, fairy tales, and how-to manuals on how to stay sober, pass a math class, mix cement and even how to crochet.
The books and support have helped Juan Hernandez, who is 22 years into a 45-year sentence at Dixon Correctional Center. Spreadbury talks to Hernandez regularly and they discuss books and life in general.
“Not so long ago, I was placed in solitary and while there I received three books from MB2P,” said Hernandez, who enjoys reading about civil rights leaders and people who give everything for a cause. “This was a blessing because I had nothing to read and aside from my clothes and cosmetics, they were the only property I had while there.
Some inmates cannot read or struggle to read even simple books, so Alfano and Spreadbury help them learn.
“They feel great shame, they’ve disappointed their families,” said Alfano. “At the same time, they show an incredible level of respect … they’re so respectful, they’re so appreciative.”
The two have boxes of handwritten thank you notes, letters and trinkets of appreciation from inmates to prove it. Some inmates say a birthday or Christmas card from the volunteers is the only one they’ve received in years.
Research supports their mission, showing books and education can help keep prisoners from going back once released from prison.
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Coming down with COVID-19 at the Iowa State Penitentiary was grueling for Eric Strenge, 34. He and 60 other infected inmates who were segregated from the rest of the prison population competed for access to a mobile phone to call family.
Then Strenge received three classics by Charles Dickens, Jack London and Ernest Hemingway from Midwest Books. They were his ticket out of isolation and COVID-19 and into a better world.
“They definitely not only help pass the time but give you something better and more productive to do. … When people aren’t productive (here), they get into drugs or hang out with gangs. It has kept my mind focused on things that are positive,” said Strenge, who has been incarcerated since 2007 on charges of robbery, burglary and sexual abuse.
In January around the time of his birthday, Strenge received “The Count of Monte Cristo,” one of his favorite books. He has finished several college degrees and certification programs while in prison.
And he’s had the chance to discuss the book with Alfano, along with his future.
“We both love this novel because it has everything you could want: action, adventure, love, betrayal, revenge, redemption,” said Strenge who has a parole hearing in November. “It means a lot to hear her tell me how much she believes in me and is committed to seeing me get out of prison and be successful.”
For Sean Stankowski, 31, who is at Green Bay Correctional Institution in Wisconsin and loves math and science, a book on statistics meant the challenge and sense of accomplishment of completing puzzles, rather than focusing on provocations from guards and other inmates, or drugs and violence often present in prison life.
Stankowski has 10 more years to serve on an armed robbery and battery conviction, but he works hard to stay positive. Reading and his friendship with Alfano have played a part in that.
“Just to see that someone who doesn’t know me, who sees this label, ‘inmate,’ doesn’t automatically have this aversion to me, instead cares enough about what I care about to support it. It lets you see that not everyone is going to see you as beneath them,” Stankowski said.
“You can still have a life outside of here that won’t be enshrouded by the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
Janice Neumann is a freelance reporter for the Daily Southtown.