A Cake that was never sent.

Seven years ago, our family still had a cousin who had been incarcerated for 17 years, with another eight years to go before he was even eligible to appear before the Kentucky Parole Board. We visited him as often as the rules allowed—twice a week. Over time, we watched him grow from a troubled 16-year-old into a mature 33-year-old, someone who developed genuine leadership qualities (according to one of his prison professors).

If you've spent years visiting someone in prison, you'll know there are no TVs or games to distract you—just conversation. Over time, dark humor inevitably slips into these talks; after all, you can't be serious every moment. On one visit, I jokingly described a cake I'd made for him (well, actually bought), but explained I couldn’t send it because of its ingredients. The cake, as shown in the photo below, featured a dozen 12-inch hacksaw blades—quite the unusual touch. When I offered to send him the photo, he calmly warned me, “If you do, your visiting privileges will be suspended for six months.” To this day, I still treasure that picture.