Waiting with me in the lobby of the Illinois Terminal in Champaign was an older man holding a large cardboard box. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt, black sweatpants and very generic pair of white sneakers. I’ve been riding the train here in central Illinois for a few years now, so his appearance did not strike me as something I had not seen before.

Each time I ride the train, there’s usually a handful of guys dressed just like him, all holding a large cardboard box filled with all of their possessions. These men are tasting their first hours of freedom, having been recently released from a correctional facility downstate. It seems like for most of them, the train seems to be the easiest way for them to get home to Chicago, or in this man’s case, Champaign.

Tired of holding the cardboard box, the man put it down and turned around to admire a statue of a panther that sits in the terminal lobby. Why there is a statue of a panther at the terminal? I have no idea, but I’m sure it was much more interesting than anything he had probably seen in awhile. He touched the statue, examining its details and features. His back was turned to the automatic doors, so he didn’t see the next guy walk through. In walked a taller man, probably in his 20s, possibly a little older than me. He watched the man touch the statue and grinned.

“You know, you shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you,” he said to the man in a deep voice. The man turned around quickly, muttering a few words under his breath and when he got a look of who was standing in front of him, he paused and a puzzled look came over his face.

“Is that you?” he said. The other man replied with a simple, “what up, pops?”

The two embraced with a hug. The man told his son he couldn’t believe how big he had got and how much he had grown. His son asked him how he was doing, to which he replied, “well, a whole lot better now.”

There was a silence between them. Neither said anything for a few seconds that seemed to feel like much longer.

“You wanna get out of here?” the son said, finally breaking the silence. The man quickly picked up his box and the two headed for the exit.

I’ve sat next to a lot of these guys on the train. Most of them ask me to use my cellphone. I let them, and listen as they’ll call home or wherever, but most of the time, nobody answers. There probably won’t be anybody waiting for them when they get off the train.

For a lot of people being released from prison, family support can be a huge factor that determines whether or not they wind up returning. Whether we like it or not, when someone we love is put in this situation, we are still part of the recovery process, and it starts with being there for them.

Dominic Renzetti is a senior family and consumer sciences major. He can be reached at 581-2812 or [email protected].