The ceremony was starting, but my 14-year old son was still outside practicing his speech. Responding to a text prompt from his mom, Henry entered the room just as the host, author and founder of the Coyne Foundation, Tom Coyne, was making his opening remarks. He stopped, looked at Henry and asked, “Were you blow-drying your hair?” Fair question given the majestic mop that currently adorns Henry’s head.
The occasion for this gathering at a golf club outside of Washington D.C. was to celebrate the Coyne Prize for writing, an award that I won for a piece titled Yard Golf that was published in The Golfers Journal in 2023. In it, I explored the intertwining of the game of golf and my journey through the criminal justice system. My conclusion: golf and the amazing people I’ve met through it saved my health, my sanity, and maybe even my life. I have gone on to do what I can to pay golf’s goodness forward here at the camp at FCI Thomson and Yard Golf told that story.
Henry and my wife Lisa, along with other family and friends, were in attendance to accept the award on my behalf. Henry delivered the acceptance speech, which he wrote with a little help from mom, impressing the audience and making his parents proud. He said:
“Good evening. My name is Henry Way, and I am Jason Way’s son. For those of you who know my dad, you might notice a resemblance between us. We look a lot alike, and then you add my grandfather, Doug Way who’s here this evening, and you can see the genes are strong. For the record, I am taller, and I have better hair than both of them.
I’m an 8th grader at Haven Middle School in Evanston, Illinois and I golf as much as possible all year long. I had a lot of fun golfing at this beautiful course today with Tom and I am grateful for the opportunity to have this experience, including missing a day of school. If any of you find yourselves in Evanston, Illinois, I’d love to host you for a round at my home course, Canal Shores.
I want to start by saying thank you for this honor on behalf of my father, who despite the difficult circumstances, continues to embody a passion for golf, golf course architecture, and golf writing. My dad started golfing at a young age with his dad and grandfather, and he put clubs in my hands when I was about 3 years old. He was a caddie at Old Elm Club in Highland Park, Illinois for 10 years and even attempted to walk on at the University of Illinois. After that, he stopped golfing for almost 20 years but picked it up again in his mid-30s. In October 2013, Dad started blogging and volunteering at Canal Shores, our municipal golf course in Evanston, and he found a huge community of other golf geeks. Many became friends and those friendships have lifted him up during the darkest days.
My dad has been incarcerated for 43 months and we miss him terribly. He started writing immediately after reporting to USP Thomson to clear his mind and memorialize his experiences. He never thought that his essays and monthly recaps would be more than emails to his distribution list of family and friends, but they have been a conduit for staying connected to people far and wide. Dad wanted me to share this:
‘I am grateful that The Golfer’s Journal gave me an opportunity to share my story, I am grateful to every person who took the time to read it, and I am grateful to the folks from the Coyne Foundation for affirming that what I was doing was interesting and important. Winning an award for doing what helps me stay connected to my life beyond these walls is something that never even occurred to me as being possible. I am humbled and honored by the recognition, and highly motivated to keep writing.’
In closing, this award recognizes not just my dad’s literary contributions but also the resilience of his spirit and the desire to do good wherever he is. I am speaking for my entire family when I say that we are all very grateful to the Coyne Foundation for acknowledging his story and celebrating the enduring power of creativity in unexpected places. Thank you.’
Part of the deal with incarceration is that you miss things–holidays, milestones, events. It is tough to acutely feel life going on without you, and this day was no exception. But when I got over the sting of missing out, gratitude, hope, and motivation are what came through for me.
First and foremost, I am grateful to be a part of a family comprised of stellar human beings. They never fail to impress and inspire me as they handle our separate lives with strength and grace.
I am also grateful that the people at The Golfer’s Journal and the Coyne Foundation are open-minded and open-hearted enough to look beyond labels like “felon” and “inmate” to see my humanity. My story was chosen from more than 100 entrants for the Coyne Prize because it struck a human chord with readers and with the panel of judges.
I realize that when I return home, I will encounter some negativity and practical challenges to re-entry from those who think that I am deserving of a stigma rather than forgiveness and a second chance. It gives me great hope to know that those forces will be countered by people like Tom Coyne who realize that life is rarely black and white as we live it. The acceptance and encouragement I received throughout the process of publication and the contest are gifts beyond measure. The affirmation motivates me to keep putting pen to paper and to continue putting myself out there.
While my family was traveling across the country, I was stuck in the camp at Thomson. That does not mean that my world has to be smaller than theirs, or anyone else’s. When I reach out through communications, my writing, and my creative vision, I find a connection with all the goodness in the world being manifested by all the good people in it. I might not have Henry’s hair, but I have Henry, Lisa, and an abundance of love, support, and opportunity that is beyond my wildest dreams. In spite of my incarceration, I have won a prize for writing, and much much more.
