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Piña Colada Bios

Debby Kerr-Henry

This is the introduction to a new series titled “Piña Colada Bios,” in Project Unlimited. Inmates at Tomoka Correctional Institution wrote these stories, not to justify or excuse behaviors, but for the purpose of educating and increasing awareness. You’re welcomed and encouraged to send questions for consideration for the Unlimited men to answer throughout this new series. To learn more about Project Unlimited click here.

Photo by YesMore Content on Unsplash

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The past few months, I have posted stories written by the men of The Unlimited Gavel Club, a Toastmasters-affiliate club located within Tomoka Correctional Institution in Daytona Beach. I had planned for the next few weeks to introduce you to some of these men by way of “piña colada” bios.

These bios are not the ones that puff themselves up with lists of accomplishments and impressive job descriptions, although these men have those. But rather, these bios are the ones birthed from within.

The ones found within our core selves.

We coined our bios from the popular ’70s song, “Escape” aka “The Piña Colada Song,” by Rupert Holmes. The tune features a man bored with his partner who reads a personal column in the newspaper from a woman.

If you like piña coladas
And gettin’ caught in the rain
If you’re not into yoga
If you have half a brain…

The man responds,
Yes, I like piña coladas
And gettin’ caught in the rain
I’m not much into health food
I am into champagne…

The man and woman, husband and wife, “secretly” meet. And realize that the very person they’ve been with is the very person they were meant to be with.

Our Collective Tragedies

I delayed posting these “piña colada” bios however, because violence and death and turmoil erupted in our country—an assassination, school and church shootings, subway murder, and here locally, the brutal murder of an off-duty police officer. These are but a handful of the tragedies. In the midst of all the heaviness, I did not want to spotlight incarcerated men and run the risk of having my intentions or their stories misunderstood.

At my age however, I have learned to hold life’s heaviness and grief and tears from all sides—most certainly the victims and their families, but also the assailants who committed these horrific acts, all young men, two with histories of mental illness and two immersed in radical online communities. And also their families.

All. Human. Tragedies.

Young Men

Like these most recent offenders, most of the inmates I see every week committed their crimes as young men, too. Substance abuse, mental illness, and childhood trauma influenced their life-altering actions the most so many years ago. Not that their circumstances justify their actions against others, but to simply explain and put context to them. Now older, wiser, and rehabilitating, these men strive to find hope in their imprisoned worlds by bettering themselves for the betterment of all. Their unique positions speak to our world’s problems with unique insights and solutions that expand beyond the comprehension of most.

As we continue to process the violence and division in our country, I’d like to offer this: that hope and healing happen in community (sometimes in the most unsuspecting places), where focusing on solutions builds bridges over our walls. And that listening to stories can stretch us beyond our own comfort and comprehension that might very well be a first step toward stronger and healthier communities.

As we enter a new autumn season, I invite you to read the Unlimited men’s piña colada bios, for in these stories you will find young men who were once very lost and who are now finding their way back.

And, who now want to contribute solutions to the very problems they once were part of.

Here’s the first story in the Piña Colada Bios series, titled “Songs of Myself” by JonathanUnlimited.

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Piña Colada Series

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