Dear Mr. Tanvir,

It has been a decade since I last saw you.

Recently, I was working on a self-help reentry course and within the module the course assigned a writing assignment:

“Write a letter to someone who has made an impact on your life since you have been incarcerated. Express your thoughts and feelings.”

There have been many who have positively impacted my life over the past 32 years of incarceration. I am grateful. None though impacted my life more than you.

We met in the summer of 2006. I remember that day well. I was working the library front desk checking in books when you walked in.

For weeks rumors swirled about someone new who had been hired to replace our outgoing boss. This new person was said to also be an imam and a hard man. The rumors were true. You were a hard man, but I am thankful for that.

That year I was going through a very dark time in my life. I was 11 years in on a 50 year sentence and on most days was only existing.

I remember our first discussion about Islam. I knew nothing about he Holy Koran, about its history and its prophet Mohammed or about the people of the world who are believers. I only knew stereotypes about your faith — just as most people only know stereotypes about incarcerated people.

I am ashamed to even admit that truth.

Despite my ignorance you kindly sat with me day-after-day patiently teaching me that which I didn’t understand. I must have peppered you with hundreds of questions.

You gently allowed me to discover my own truths, never trying to impose a belief upon me. I am grateful for you having done that.

Yet, I am most grateful for something else you did. While at work, in between my job duties at the front desk, I would sit and write. On one of those days you called me into the office and asked to see what I was writing.

I was hesitant because I knew you were a hard man, and I was nervous because I knew you would see what I had written.

“What is this?” you asked.
“I’m writing a book for correctional staff,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because there are things that many staff do that incarcerated people receive in a negative way. It doesn’t have to be this way. It can be done better, and it can help us.”

I sat quietly as you skimmed my work. You then photocopied each page and returned my originals to me without explanation saying, “Go back to work.” I returned to the front desk nervous and worried.

Two days later you called me back into the office.

“Sit down,” you said.
I took a seat.
“I have a couple of books for you,” you said. “I got permission to bring these to you. They are books from my college days. These are written by renowned people and I want you to read them. They will help you to write your book.”

The books were written by Drs. Samenow and Yochelson, psychologists who have influenced the modern day approach to corrections and interacting with incarcerated people.

Over the next several weeks I read each book — one-thousand six-hundred pages of research data, and observations — the culmination of Samenow and Yochelson’s decades of research into the thinking and actions of people who live outside societal norms.

To my astonishment, I observed myself within those pages. By the time I had finished reading I understood myself for the first time in my life.

Thank you Mr. Tanvir for your kindness, and for gently steering me toward discovery. Because of you I found myself. I gained what I needed in order to change — my thinking, values, actions, and observations — and how to do it. Because of you I have embarked upon a lifetime journey of reconciliation and growth.

I now help others who are in the same dark place I once was. I help them to help themselves while discovering a new path with a bright future. You would be proud of me.

Even in your last days when sick with cancer, you still found time to shower me with wisdom and love. If you had a mission in this world I know you accomplished it.

May Peace Be With You.


*Christopher Monihan is an author of two books, a journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.