For almost four months, now, I've been receiving the USA Today newspaper - as a gift from a great group of women friends on the outside. The paper arrives Monday-Friday, either on the date of the paper, or a day or two later. It's not the paper's fault, but our mail room is just that inundated with things that sometimes papers only come on some days. This week was especially bad, as yesterday, I received several newspapers. All I can say is "whoa."
A ferry in near S. Korea sinking. The Jewish people in the Ukraine being told to register like in Nazi, Germany. The flight off Australia still not found. All I can say is that the newspaper is full of horrifying stories - especially this week. Reading the lead stories scared me about what's happening outside of here. Nothing changes is here, but so much in the world has changed in just the 8 months I've been inside. In fact, 8 months today!
I am so glad that I get the newspaper, as it continues to be impossible to watch the news and, now, I no longer have a borrowed radio, so I can't hear the televisions at all. I probably should have just purchased the cheap radio my first month here; it serves people well. But now, with the time I have left, I am not going to waste my funds on an unnecessary item. The newspaper, though, shares so few stories of "good," that I'm glad I can offset it with a weekly People Magazine, the entertaining, monthly Reader's Digest, and the 'awe' of a monthly National Geographic.
Additionally, a few people, here, get a small news magazine called "The News." It is filled with articles about the same stories mentioned above, but also has great funny and positive news stories as well. The page of political cartoons is fantastic. I think it gets it's news from all news sources and just provides the best of what's out there. It arrives weekly and gives just enough information to keep you informed on the basic happenings of the world. It is well-written, and as I mentioned, at least a bit entertaining. If you are thinking of sending a magazine to someone in prison, it is a really good option! I may even choose to subscribe to it once I'm back home.
In other types of "news," my paperwork is not yet back from region. The paperwork will officially designate me for home confinement. Once that arrives, my travel plans can be made. I wish there was a time in prison where waiting, patience, anxiety, was not part of the equation, but it always is. Red leaves on the same day I am, May 28th. Her arrangements are all already made. She promises me that I will be walking out of here at the same time. I'm continuing to put that out to the world... May 28th, May 28th, May 28th...
Back home, I'm receiving wonderful news from several of my friends from my program. Traveler is traveling to amazing foreign places and making incredible academic presentations. Another good friend just got a job at the University she wanted to work at. Survivor is going to have a new grandchild. T.S. is about to finish her first year of college, with a service learning trip to Central America. Life really does move forward in the outside world. I am so proud and happy for my friends. I'm grateful that they continue to update me with their news.
In the meantime, it's my job to pray for the missing people, the people facing anti-semetism, the people grieving loss. I tried to talk with a friend last night about what is in the news, and she actually told me that she doesn't want to know anything while she's locked up. How sad. Life goes on out there and we are still part of this world, even if our lives are at a standstill. Never stop connecting with the world; I fear that's one of the reasons so many people become 'institutionalized.'
Saturday, April 19, 2014
From Dragonfly: Don't Count Your Days
My friend that recently lost her husband left yesterday morning to go to a camp, much closer to her home. She'd worked hard to get medically released and waited months before finally getting a date that she was to be transferred on. She packed out on Tuesday (they mail all your belongings, except for the one bag of stuff you are carrying on the bus). She did her merry-go-round on Wednesday (spend the day getting every major department to sign off on your leaving). She had a small going away party with her roommates on Wednesday night. Her smile was large and she was looking forward to spending Easter Sunday with her family.
Yesterday morning, she woke early, took her shower, and did her hair. She packed up the remaining of her uniforms and sheets, and put them in front of the orderly closet, as told to do so. She hugged so many of us as she walked out the door of the unit around 6am... She went to the doors leading to R&D in the main building, and more of us went to her and hugged her "good luck." I told her, "I'm better for knowing you." She wants us to keep in touch.
So, she was standing at those doors, and a woman from R&D came out and got her. In R&D, she was fully processed to leave. An hour later, she walked out of our doors, our fences, and an inmate from the camp was waiting to transport her to the bus station. Seat voucher in hand, she walked up to the Greyhound window to obtain her official ticket for the bus. "I'm sorry, but there are no seats left on the bus..." It is Easter weekend after all. Turns out that the BOP doesn't actually purchase your bus seat, just gives you a voucher. If there are no seats, you return to the prison.
Late yesterday morning, my friend was back in her room, in tears. She was told it would be another 10 days or longer before they could get her another bus. She needed to be re-processed. Being told, I was speechless (which definitely does not happen often to me). Later in the day, we learned that she will not get her next chance for a bus ticket until April 28th. She will not see her family for Easter. She will not be in a camp environment. She is now, back in her uniform, here, for a couple weeks.
In a weird set of facts, she is also back to being listed as A&O. Since she was processed to leave, she now is back to being a "new" inmate. She will be told to attend orientation again. She is doing the orientation rounds. She was gone less than 3 hours, but she is seen as a newly admitted inmate. Yes, once again, speechless.
The truth is, none of us should count our days. Until we are on a bus, plane, or in a car leaving this place, anything can happen. My friend was being transferred, which meant that the time on her bus trip was considered "furlough." Had she been a higher security level, her transfer would have been through Oklahoma (via official BOP bus), and/or Con-Air. My friends that have had to fly con-air have horrific stories. Anyway, as minimum-out security, we are given furloughs for our travel for transfers to camps. People at camps, who have to transfer to Carswell, regardless of their security level, are put in shackles and flown via Con-Air or bussed via the BOP. These furlough bus travels are only for people going to minimim-security facilities.
Those of us leaving for halfway house or home confinement, are also still considered in BOP custody. Until our official "out dates" (mine is 7/2), we are in custody. So, our travel to home confinement or halfway house is also a furlough. The BOP buys greyhound transfer for most anyone. Those within 550 miles of their institution can be picked up by family (there's a process that should be started early). Those with significant medical issues are flown. If you are not going to be flown by the BOP, you/your family can purchase a ticket home for you. It is more expensive, as you may also have to pay for your own cab fare to/from the airport. Lately, Carswell has been using the same camp transportation to take people to the airport (for free), because cabs have a hard time picking people up at the base/prison. Our time traveling is a furlough, until we get to our designated halfway house/home.
If we are on home confinement, we need to check in with our P.O. immediately, and often. We cannot leave our home, unless we have permission to do so. Most people have "curfews" and can leave home during certain hours without calling in, but it is very strict. Halfway houses are even more strict. We are not fully free, we are still in custody until our out dates.
Anyway, I cried for my friend yesterday. She's really had a hard go with it - losing her husband, and now this. I pray they bought her a real ticket, and not just a voucher this time. She needs to see her family. I don't think she can go through this all again.
Yesterday morning, she woke early, took her shower, and did her hair. She packed up the remaining of her uniforms and sheets, and put them in front of the orderly closet, as told to do so. She hugged so many of us as she walked out the door of the unit around 6am... She went to the doors leading to R&D in the main building, and more of us went to her and hugged her "good luck." I told her, "I'm better for knowing you." She wants us to keep in touch.
So, she was standing at those doors, and a woman from R&D came out and got her. In R&D, she was fully processed to leave. An hour later, she walked out of our doors, our fences, and an inmate from the camp was waiting to transport her to the bus station. Seat voucher in hand, she walked up to the Greyhound window to obtain her official ticket for the bus. "I'm sorry, but there are no seats left on the bus..." It is Easter weekend after all. Turns out that the BOP doesn't actually purchase your bus seat, just gives you a voucher. If there are no seats, you return to the prison.
Late yesterday morning, my friend was back in her room, in tears. She was told it would be another 10 days or longer before they could get her another bus. She needed to be re-processed. Being told, I was speechless (which definitely does not happen often to me). Later in the day, we learned that she will not get her next chance for a bus ticket until April 28th. She will not see her family for Easter. She will not be in a camp environment. She is now, back in her uniform, here, for a couple weeks.
In a weird set of facts, she is also back to being listed as A&O. Since she was processed to leave, she now is back to being a "new" inmate. She will be told to attend orientation again. She is doing the orientation rounds. She was gone less than 3 hours, but she is seen as a newly admitted inmate. Yes, once again, speechless.
The truth is, none of us should count our days. Until we are on a bus, plane, or in a car leaving this place, anything can happen. My friend was being transferred, which meant that the time on her bus trip was considered "furlough." Had she been a higher security level, her transfer would have been through Oklahoma (via official BOP bus), and/or Con-Air. My friends that have had to fly con-air have horrific stories. Anyway, as minimum-out security, we are given furloughs for our travel for transfers to camps. People at camps, who have to transfer to Carswell, regardless of their security level, are put in shackles and flown via Con-Air or bussed via the BOP. These furlough bus travels are only for people going to minimim-security facilities.
Those of us leaving for halfway house or home confinement, are also still considered in BOP custody. Until our official "out dates" (mine is 7/2), we are in custody. So, our travel to home confinement or halfway house is also a furlough. The BOP buys greyhound transfer for most anyone. Those within 550 miles of their institution can be picked up by family (there's a process that should be started early). Those with significant medical issues are flown. If you are not going to be flown by the BOP, you/your family can purchase a ticket home for you. It is more expensive, as you may also have to pay for your own cab fare to/from the airport. Lately, Carswell has been using the same camp transportation to take people to the airport (for free), because cabs have a hard time picking people up at the base/prison. Our time traveling is a furlough, until we get to our designated halfway house/home.
If we are on home confinement, we need to check in with our P.O. immediately, and often. We cannot leave our home, unless we have permission to do so. Most people have "curfews" and can leave home during certain hours without calling in, but it is very strict. Halfway houses are even more strict. We are not fully free, we are still in custody until our out dates.
Anyway, I cried for my friend yesterday. She's really had a hard go with it - losing her husband, and now this. I pray they bought her a real ticket, and not just a voucher this time. She needs to see her family. I don't think she can go through this all again.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
From Dragonfly: Two Mysteries Solved
Sometimes, prison is full of mysteries. They are mysteries, because we are only told what they want to tell us, so sometimes things just happen and we are never made aware of why... this is what leads to incredible amounts of gossip... A counselor gone for a month must be being disciplined, when in reality they are just home, caring for an ill parent. An inmate called to the Lieutenants office must be in trouble, when in fact they are just going on a med-trip or a writ. I can't tell you how in the dark we are about the real happenings of this place. But women are gossipers and are very curious, and so someones story will be altered, changed, and always made to something scandalous for no good reason, before it is disseminated around the full campus.
Well, usually that is how it goes. My new roommate went for a "call-out" at 9am Tuesday morning and never returned to our room. We weren't aware of where her call-out was to, but it was somewhere in the main building. I started to worry when she wasn't back for 4pm count, as missing lunch due to a call-out isn't that abnormal. I went to the C.O. on duty Tuesday night and inquired about my roommate, but she knew nothing about it. In fact, the "bed book" with all our pictures didn't even have her in our room, it still had Blondie, who left a couple weeks ago. When she wasn't back in the room for 9:30pm count, I really started to worry. I went back to the officer, who still knew nothing. Thing was, since she wasn't "missing" during the counts, the prison knew where she was, and we were just left in our room to ponder the possibilities... never a good thing.
Then, yesterday, she was still not back. Some had said, "oh, she'll probably come back in the night," but she didn't. Mexico was missing from our room and no one in the unit seemed to know what happened. So, we conjured up a story that she must have had surgery on her leg, which is broken. However, she was just telling us a couple days ago, that she wasn't allowed to have surgery, due to a weakened heart. So, nothing really made sense.
Then my bunkie, who works commissary trays, said that our roommate wasn't in med-surg (where the people who have surgery go after surgery)... So, that meant that our roommate had to be in the hospital... but why?? Once again, we conjured up the story of a surgery that needed her to stay in the hospital for a while, then she would be going to med-surge. Well, that's what we figured, although, it still didn't make sense.
So, last night, around midnight, as I was finishing a good book, I jumped out of my bed when someone walked into the room. It was Mexico. She was returning in a pink hospital gown and plastic bracelets on her wrists. She'd been in the hospital, due to a heart attack! She was getting an MRI on her leg on Tuesday morning, and she had a heart attack right there on the table. I guess it only required a one-day stay in the hospital, but she sure didn't look too well last night, moving much slower than usual. Poor thing. I wish they had told us she was in the hospital. We could have prayed. Mexico is not old, so her heart attack is definitely connected to whatever is wrong with her heart. It makes me sad, because she is going to be dropped in Mexico, and if she has her next heart attack, she will be alone there, away from her family in south Texas.
The second mystery I solved was not so big. A bag of laundry was in front of my locker last night. I assumed it was my bunkies, my bunky assumed it was mine. When we figured out that we should stop assuming, I reached in the bag and pulled out some pants. The label listed a woman on the other side of the atrium. So, I walked the laundry bag to her room, not knowing why on earth it was in my room. Well, they were her "missing" pants, but it wasn't her laundry bag. So, I reached for another item, a new name popped up. Leaving the pants with its rightful owner, I carried the bag to the new name on the labels. She wasn't in her room, but her roommate was. I left the bag there, saying that I hoped it was in the right owner's room. But the roommate said that her roommate has someone do her laundry (something that happens frequently, even though it is against the rules). So, I thought about who might do this woman's laundry... walked over to her room, and in fact, it was supposed to be there. The woman had accidentally dropped her laundry off in the wrong room. However, I instructed the person who would be doing the laundry that the bag is "sans one pair of pants that found it's owner..." Two mysteries solved at once. I guess that makes me a novice sleuth.
Well, usually that is how it goes. My new roommate went for a "call-out" at 9am Tuesday morning and never returned to our room. We weren't aware of where her call-out was to, but it was somewhere in the main building. I started to worry when she wasn't back for 4pm count, as missing lunch due to a call-out isn't that abnormal. I went to the C.O. on duty Tuesday night and inquired about my roommate, but she knew nothing about it. In fact, the "bed book" with all our pictures didn't even have her in our room, it still had Blondie, who left a couple weeks ago. When she wasn't back in the room for 9:30pm count, I really started to worry. I went back to the officer, who still knew nothing. Thing was, since she wasn't "missing" during the counts, the prison knew where she was, and we were just left in our room to ponder the possibilities... never a good thing.
Then, yesterday, she was still not back. Some had said, "oh, she'll probably come back in the night," but she didn't. Mexico was missing from our room and no one in the unit seemed to know what happened. So, we conjured up a story that she must have had surgery on her leg, which is broken. However, she was just telling us a couple days ago, that she wasn't allowed to have surgery, due to a weakened heart. So, nothing really made sense.
Then my bunkie, who works commissary trays, said that our roommate wasn't in med-surg (where the people who have surgery go after surgery)... So, that meant that our roommate had to be in the hospital... but why?? Once again, we conjured up the story of a surgery that needed her to stay in the hospital for a while, then she would be going to med-surge. Well, that's what we figured, although, it still didn't make sense.
So, last night, around midnight, as I was finishing a good book, I jumped out of my bed when someone walked into the room. It was Mexico. She was returning in a pink hospital gown and plastic bracelets on her wrists. She'd been in the hospital, due to a heart attack! She was getting an MRI on her leg on Tuesday morning, and she had a heart attack right there on the table. I guess it only required a one-day stay in the hospital, but she sure didn't look too well last night, moving much slower than usual. Poor thing. I wish they had told us she was in the hospital. We could have prayed. Mexico is not old, so her heart attack is definitely connected to whatever is wrong with her heart. It makes me sad, because she is going to be dropped in Mexico, and if she has her next heart attack, she will be alone there, away from her family in south Texas.
The second mystery I solved was not so big. A bag of laundry was in front of my locker last night. I assumed it was my bunkies, my bunky assumed it was mine. When we figured out that we should stop assuming, I reached in the bag and pulled out some pants. The label listed a woman on the other side of the atrium. So, I walked the laundry bag to her room, not knowing why on earth it was in my room. Well, they were her "missing" pants, but it wasn't her laundry bag. So, I reached for another item, a new name popped up. Leaving the pants with its rightful owner, I carried the bag to the new name on the labels. She wasn't in her room, but her roommate was. I left the bag there, saying that I hoped it was in the right owner's room. But the roommate said that her roommate has someone do her laundry (something that happens frequently, even though it is against the rules). So, I thought about who might do this woman's laundry... walked over to her room, and in fact, it was supposed to be there. The woman had accidentally dropped her laundry off in the wrong room. However, I instructed the person who would be doing the laundry that the bag is "sans one pair of pants that found it's owner..." Two mysteries solved at once. I guess that makes me a novice sleuth.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
From Dragonfly: And Sometimes They Return
I met someone last night. She was waring the clothes of a "newbie" and so I introduced myself to her and another "newbie." I asked if they had any questions, and the Newbie was not a Newbie after all, she had broken her supervision. She left a year ago, and the temptation of her drug addiction was too much, she had a dirty UA on the outside. She is now, here, for 18 more months. I did not know her before, I wasn't here yet. I've met many people back in prison, having violated parole. For some, they got involved with another Felon (romantically/sexually), others, it appears drugs win out. I don't necessarily see them actually recommitting a crime, as much as they are right back to their old selves of unhealthy relationships and/or drug addiction. If time in prison is not a time to help them find their way out of these things, then how can we put them back out on the streets to fend for themselves??
As I was talking to this newly returned inmate, I could just see the disgust in her eyes that she is now back here. She is not close to home or family. She is living this nightmare all over again. For some, those institutionalized, it's almost a welcome relief to return to this place - a place where the rules are known and they feel comfortable. For others, it is a reminder of everything that can go wrong in one's life. To have been home, been able to enjoy the freedom of every day, only to find yourself coming back here. I imagine the second time around is actually harder, not easier. Yes, you know what to expect... but, then, you KNOW what to expect. You are stuck in a cycle and you need to ask yourself, how did I get here, again???
When someone walks away from G.A. and goes back out gambling, whether it's been just a couple days or years from their last GA meeting, we always ask the same question, "What will you do different this time?"
Did you not work your steps and/or were you not fully honest with them?
Did you not have a sponsor?
Did you not pick up the phone when urges were starting?
How can we help you find a better way to work the program, so that you don't go back out there? Because, we never, ever, see anyone come back to the rooms and say, 'ha, you were all wrong. I didn't re-devastate myself and my life and my family while gambling. I can control my gambling...' It just doesn't happen. Every person walks in the room more upset with themselves, more in debt, more in self-doubt and self-loathing. I imagine the same is true when someone returns to prison.
So my question is, how will you spend you time in prison differently this time? How will you prepare yourself for life on the outside? There are options, but it is up to you, and you alone, to seek them out. No one tells you HOW to do prison. You can goof off, violate rules, stay in bed all day, or you can work, take classes, earn a degree, do an apprenticeship, take psychology courses, join a drug recovery group, etc. The choice is up to you. You, alone, will have to make similar choices on the outside. I strongly suggest, you start making the healthiest decisions here.
As I was talking to this newly returned inmate, I could just see the disgust in her eyes that she is now back here. She is not close to home or family. She is living this nightmare all over again. For some, those institutionalized, it's almost a welcome relief to return to this place - a place where the rules are known and they feel comfortable. For others, it is a reminder of everything that can go wrong in one's life. To have been home, been able to enjoy the freedom of every day, only to find yourself coming back here. I imagine the second time around is actually harder, not easier. Yes, you know what to expect... but, then, you KNOW what to expect. You are stuck in a cycle and you need to ask yourself, how did I get here, again???
When someone walks away from G.A. and goes back out gambling, whether it's been just a couple days or years from their last GA meeting, we always ask the same question, "What will you do different this time?"
Did you not work your steps and/or were you not fully honest with them?
Did you not have a sponsor?
Did you not pick up the phone when urges were starting?
How can we help you find a better way to work the program, so that you don't go back out there? Because, we never, ever, see anyone come back to the rooms and say, 'ha, you were all wrong. I didn't re-devastate myself and my life and my family while gambling. I can control my gambling...' It just doesn't happen. Every person walks in the room more upset with themselves, more in debt, more in self-doubt and self-loathing. I imagine the same is true when someone returns to prison.
So my question is, how will you spend you time in prison differently this time? How will you prepare yourself for life on the outside? There are options, but it is up to you, and you alone, to seek them out. No one tells you HOW to do prison. You can goof off, violate rules, stay in bed all day, or you can work, take classes, earn a degree, do an apprenticeship, take psychology courses, join a drug recovery group, etc. The choice is up to you. You, alone, will have to make similar choices on the outside. I strongly suggest, you start making the healthiest decisions here.
From Dragonfly: A Wonderful Seder
After nothing seeming to go right for the past 24 hours for our Passover observance here, tonight went wonderful! My friend Red (who claims I'm her girlfriend- although she is straight - ha), spent the entire day in the kitchen making very edible and delicious passover foods. Everything was fresh, tasty, and even the salad had vegetables in it besides iceberg lettuce!!! I spent today reading the entire Haggaddah and selecting the readings and songs for tonight, so that we could efficiently eat, tell the most important parts of the Passover Story, and be finished in 1 1/2 hours total time. We finished 10 minutes early - success! Everyone was so happy the entire evening. There was no in-fighting, no drama. We laughed. We sang. It was really, really nice. We even had the Chaplain sit with us through the meal and he seemed to enjoy himself as well. I was so happy to be able to do something, here, for the small Jewish community. It just felt good!
I did do a tradition that I only started doing about a decade ago. I was at a friend's Seder and she had an orange on her Seder plate. She then told the story... one day a young woman asked the Rabbi to allow her to go to Yeshiva and let her become a Rabbi. The Rabbi turned to her and said, "a woman belongs a Rabbi, like an orange belongs on a Seder plate..." So, now, many of us put an orange on the Seder plate - a little feminist act - which seemed ever so appropriate at an all women's prison.
I have to say that we really owe all our gratitude to Red, who literally worked a job in the kitchen that is not hers to do, to ensure we had a good Passover. She did it because she wanted us all to be happy. She worked a 12 hour day. She made her first matzah balls ever - and they were good!!! There is so much to be grateful for when we are able to really enjoy a good meal here, and Red made that happen! I feel my holiday will continue to go well, as we are all feeling good about our experience now.
So to all out there who are Jewish - Happy Passover. To those Christian - Happy Holy Week. To those Athiest/Agnositc - Happy Day. To everyone, regardless of religion - prison is hard, but you CAN do this, even if a couple tears have to fall every now and then (as they did this afternoon for me).
I did do a tradition that I only started doing about a decade ago. I was at a friend's Seder and she had an orange on her Seder plate. She then told the story... one day a young woman asked the Rabbi to allow her to go to Yeshiva and let her become a Rabbi. The Rabbi turned to her and said, "a woman belongs a Rabbi, like an orange belongs on a Seder plate..." So, now, many of us put an orange on the Seder plate - a little feminist act - which seemed ever so appropriate at an all women's prison.
I have to say that we really owe all our gratitude to Red, who literally worked a job in the kitchen that is not hers to do, to ensure we had a good Passover. She did it because she wanted us all to be happy. She worked a 12 hour day. She made her first matzah balls ever - and they were good!!! There is so much to be grateful for when we are able to really enjoy a good meal here, and Red made that happen! I feel my holiday will continue to go well, as we are all feeling good about our experience now.
So to all out there who are Jewish - Happy Passover. To those Christian - Happy Holy Week. To those Athiest/Agnositc - Happy Day. To everyone, regardless of religion - prison is hard, but you CAN do this, even if a couple tears have to fall every now and then (as they did this afternoon for me).
From Dragonfly: All in Proper Perspective
I met a woman the other night. She'd been talking with Taz, and mentioned that she'd been reading online about preparing to self-surrender. She'd brought all the things she needed. She knew what she needed to do about her health records. She knew what kind of watch she could bring. Turns out, she was reading the site. At some point, Taz asked her, "Do you want to meet her?" and for some reason she was flabbergasted that she could. Taz went to find me.
The woman is older than I by about 20 years, appears very well educated, and like so many of us, had never been in trouble before. This whole experience is causing her much anxiety. Nothing can quite prepare you for being here. She told me about how she read the site almost every day. She actually had tears as she told me how helpful it was to her. This brought tears to my eyes as well; in addition to a softness in my heart. If even one person can be helped just in the slightest bit, then that means that one less person has to be a deer in headlights walking through the gate. I am so grateful to have this outlet and that others have found it helpful to them.
Prior to incarceration, I knew there was a "purpose" for my sentence, a reason I was put so far away from my friends/family, a need for me to be here. I said that I was unsure if it was for someone else, or for me. Now, I know it is for both. I have truly grown through this experience. A quote I recently read stated:
"Success is a result of good judgment. Good judgment is a result of experience. Experience is often a result of bad judgment."
We usually learn more through our mistakes than we do from anything else. It is a process of trial and error throughout life that makes us strong, and who we are.
I'm not going to say that the purpose of my incarceration was just to impact other people, or even to grow myself. I'm here because I committed a crime. I hurt many wonderful people and a community that held me as their leader. The person I became through my addiction is not the person I was meant to be. However, I cannot hold regret. Every trial and tribulation in my life leads me to where I need to be. I am better able to have compassion, better able to help others, better able to teach, and better able to find my own happiness, because of the mistakes I've made in my life; the twists and turns off of my path and goals; and the vast amount of people from all walks of life that I've had the privilege to meet and get to know.
One of those people, is the woman I met the other night. She will be here long after I am gone. Her journey through incarceration is just beginning. If I was able to give her just one less restless night's sleep, or helped her laugh when everything seemed to be coming apart in her life, then I shall know that there's a reason for everything... and there is.
The woman is older than I by about 20 years, appears very well educated, and like so many of us, had never been in trouble before. This whole experience is causing her much anxiety. Nothing can quite prepare you for being here. She told me about how she read the site almost every day. She actually had tears as she told me how helpful it was to her. This brought tears to my eyes as well; in addition to a softness in my heart. If even one person can be helped just in the slightest bit, then that means that one less person has to be a deer in headlights walking through the gate. I am so grateful to have this outlet and that others have found it helpful to them.
Prior to incarceration, I knew there was a "purpose" for my sentence, a reason I was put so far away from my friends/family, a need for me to be here. I said that I was unsure if it was for someone else, or for me. Now, I know it is for both. I have truly grown through this experience. A quote I recently read stated:
"Success is a result of good judgment. Good judgment is a result of experience. Experience is often a result of bad judgment."
We usually learn more through our mistakes than we do from anything else. It is a process of trial and error throughout life that makes us strong, and who we are.
I'm not going to say that the purpose of my incarceration was just to impact other people, or even to grow myself. I'm here because I committed a crime. I hurt many wonderful people and a community that held me as their leader. The person I became through my addiction is not the person I was meant to be. However, I cannot hold regret. Every trial and tribulation in my life leads me to where I need to be. I am better able to have compassion, better able to help others, better able to teach, and better able to find my own happiness, because of the mistakes I've made in my life; the twists and turns off of my path and goals; and the vast amount of people from all walks of life that I've had the privilege to meet and get to know.
One of those people, is the woman I met the other night. She will be here long after I am gone. Her journey through incarceration is just beginning. If I was able to give her just one less restless night's sleep, or helped her laugh when everything seemed to be coming apart in her life, then I shall know that there's a reason for everything... and there is.
From Dragonfly: First Night of Passover
Well, as I imagined, this will be a Passover I will never forget. There is so much fighting between the few Jewish people here (4 people born and raised Jewish, 5 people converting/interested), that it is nearly impossible to avoid non-stop drama. Plus, there is an orthodox woman, and the rest of us are more reformed. Our traditions are very different. Combine that with the drama around the Mezzonites, and you have the opposite of a peaceful evening.
The table looked pretty, the food was edible, the charoset made wrong, TV dinners for our entree, but plenty of other things that I never opened mine. I mostly ate the hard boiled eggs, some potato latkes, and an interesting take on matzah brie (more matzah than eggs... should be the other way around). But, it was Passover, and I was grateful for everything and be around other's trying to tell the story of the feast of freedom.
That became the problem, though, as the leader among us was too disgusted with everything not being how she wanted it, that we never made it past our first glass of grape juice and the four questions... We never even built our Charoset/Matzo sandwich. She then just sat at the head of the table and sulked, while the rest of us just accepted a quick end to our actual service.
By the end of the night, I was sufficiently full, even if it wasn't quite "traditional." The leader, who has been locked up for dozens of years, stated that she would not be doing tomorrow night's Seder and it should be cancelled. I looked at the beautiful haggadah on the table, the eight other women at the table, and said, "well, I want to still have a Seder and I will put it together if I can borrow the Haggadah overnight (technically these things stay in religious services). I was granted the ability to take the book home with me - as the chaplain with us for the evening is really quite kind and I think grateful that someone stepped up to possibly make this all better. So, here I am, in prison, and I will lead a small group of women tomorrow in a Passover Seder. I pray for a little peace, as we take on my favorite holiday. I hope we all leave the dinner tomorrow night, feeling connected to our holiday and happy to have spent two hours together.
I have to say that if you want perfection, you will not get it at prison. I just kept saying how "grateful" for the food I was. We were given many things not usually on the menu. I was allowed to drink 4 full drink boxes of grape juice. I ate matzo. It is passover, and I am a Jew, celebrating it in prison.
The table looked pretty, the food was edible, the charoset made wrong, TV dinners for our entree, but plenty of other things that I never opened mine. I mostly ate the hard boiled eggs, some potato latkes, and an interesting take on matzah brie (more matzah than eggs... should be the other way around). But, it was Passover, and I was grateful for everything and be around other's trying to tell the story of the feast of freedom.
That became the problem, though, as the leader among us was too disgusted with everything not being how she wanted it, that we never made it past our first glass of grape juice and the four questions... We never even built our Charoset/Matzo sandwich. She then just sat at the head of the table and sulked, while the rest of us just accepted a quick end to our actual service.
By the end of the night, I was sufficiently full, even if it wasn't quite "traditional." The leader, who has been locked up for dozens of years, stated that she would not be doing tomorrow night's Seder and it should be cancelled. I looked at the beautiful haggadah on the table, the eight other women at the table, and said, "well, I want to still have a Seder and I will put it together if I can borrow the Haggadah overnight (technically these things stay in religious services). I was granted the ability to take the book home with me - as the chaplain with us for the evening is really quite kind and I think grateful that someone stepped up to possibly make this all better. So, here I am, in prison, and I will lead a small group of women tomorrow in a Passover Seder. I pray for a little peace, as we take on my favorite holiday. I hope we all leave the dinner tomorrow night, feeling connected to our holiday and happy to have spent two hours together.
I have to say that if you want perfection, you will not get it at prison. I just kept saying how "grateful" for the food I was. We were given many things not usually on the menu. I was allowed to drink 4 full drink boxes of grape juice. I ate matzo. It is passover, and I am a Jew, celebrating it in prison.
From Dragonfly: Looking to my Higher Power
Well, if lunch was any indication of how Passover is REALLY going to go here, all the mezzonites in Carswell received a nice Kosher for Passover meal, while 4 of the 7 Jewish people here did not. They say that our names were not on the list. How is it possible that 4 Jewish people were left off the list, but the list needed to be completed a month ago. So, I was fine with that. It's only the most religious of people who start with lunch today. I traditionally start with the sunset Seder.
The chaplains were not as gracious about this as one would home. I actually had to explain that I am a Jew, I was bat-mitzvahed, and that keeping Kosher for Passover is important to me. Others did not have to prove their Judaism. Like really??? Food service, though, was accommodating. While I did not eat lunch, I did walk out with my box of Matzo. I was actually asked by the Chaplain why I hadn't SPO'd my matzo. I explained to him that I had been told that we were each being provided a box. Why do I need to explain myself? SPOing food for Passover is very, very expensive. So, I was going with what I was told, that the BOP will provide me with my appropriate fare. I do not feel as if I need any extra.
Anyway, in the end, food services is going to community stores in the area and picking up what "kosher for passover" fare they can. They have to come up with a way to feed four more people than they planned. They planned for 12, when there's 16 of us. I don't know much about the Mezzonites, but I imagine they would be upset as well, if they were not permitted to eat the appropriate fare for the Passover week. The next issue will be being released with insilin line, because of having to heat up our meals. The memo says we should, but my CO doesn't have a copy of the memo, yet. I pray he gets it and does not make it difficult for me as we move forward.
So, off to a rocky start, but I'm sure that I will be able to celebrate appropriately. After all, I always need to let go, and let my higher power have control. I believe a religious undertaking is the perfect thing to let go of and just go with the flow.
The chaplains were not as gracious about this as one would home. I actually had to explain that I am a Jew, I was bat-mitzvahed, and that keeping Kosher for Passover is important to me. Others did not have to prove their Judaism. Like really??? Food service, though, was accommodating. While I did not eat lunch, I did walk out with my box of Matzo. I was actually asked by the Chaplain why I hadn't SPO'd my matzo. I explained to him that I had been told that we were each being provided a box. Why do I need to explain myself? SPOing food for Passover is very, very expensive. So, I was going with what I was told, that the BOP will provide me with my appropriate fare. I do not feel as if I need any extra.
Anyway, in the end, food services is going to community stores in the area and picking up what "kosher for passover" fare they can. They have to come up with a way to feed four more people than they planned. They planned for 12, when there's 16 of us. I don't know much about the Mezzonites, but I imagine they would be upset as well, if they were not permitted to eat the appropriate fare for the Passover week. The next issue will be being released with insilin line, because of having to heat up our meals. The memo says we should, but my CO doesn't have a copy of the memo, yet. I pray he gets it and does not make it difficult for me as we move forward.
So, off to a rocky start, but I'm sure that I will be able to celebrate appropriately. After all, I always need to let go, and let my higher power have control. I believe a religious undertaking is the perfect thing to let go of and just go with the flow.
From Dragonfly: Prepping for Passover
At sundown tonight, my official Passover week begins. Last week, a Rabbi came and spoke with us about Passover, although the conversation was short, due to our recall, I found it enlightening and was glad I chose to attend it. I don't do everything "Jewish" here for several reasons, but this specific holiday matters to me and is my favorite in the outside world. Last year, 23 people squeezed into my tiny apartment to have a Seder meal with the only three Jewish women in my PhD program. It was so much fun to have so many people experience their first Passover and it felt good to have such a tradition at my home. This year, though, many miles separate me from friends and family, so I am going to have a very unique prison Passover. I'm just so grateful that I can keep "kosher for Passover" for the week. It's about tradition, family, remembrance, and remembering that even the littlest acts "would have been enough."
Tonight, the holiday will start with a Seder. From what I can tell, there are 16 people participating. I'm not sure if all are Jewish, as we have many mezonnites here as well, but it will be a nice size group. The kitchen is preparing traditional fare - matzo brie (fried matzo to me), matzo ball soup, kosher grape juice, even charoset. We will have all the items on our Seder plate and a wonderful haggadah to follow. I'm sure it won't be like any Seder I've had in the past, but it'll be perfect nonetheless!
For the many days of Passover, we are being given special meals - made specifically kosher for Passover. I will be back to warming up my "TV type dinners" from a microwave being used only for Passover. It'll take me waiting for each person before me, as well as an additional 6 minutes at the microwave to be able to heat up and eat my meal. I've been told meals are good - much better than the kosher "sardines" or "spaghetti" I was trying to fare during my early weeks in prison. Also, I've been told that we are each receiving a box of matzo for our locker to have for snacks. I love matzo and butter, but there's no butter here, I can get some in the dining hall if I bring my matzo there. I'll buy some cream cheese at commissary this week, and spread that goodness on the matzo. It will be a great snack! I don't always do perfect with keeping kosher for Passover, but I think it will actually be easier here!
If you remember, I had put out today, April 14th, as the day I wanted to go home by. I really wanted to be home for Passover. I'd put it out to the world, but it was not to be. That's okay, at least I know I'll be home soon. Passover is about "freedom," I'm one of the few lucky ones at tonight's table. I'm going home and will be free very soon, some at the table are not so fortunate, including at least one with life in here. So, I'm going with the flow. I'm going to enjoy my Passover and remember how grateful I am that next year, I will be with my family and friends on the holiday. Perhaps I'll tell a story about Passover in Prison, perhaps not. I shall never forget, though, that I know.
Tonight, the holiday will start with a Seder. From what I can tell, there are 16 people participating. I'm not sure if all are Jewish, as we have many mezonnites here as well, but it will be a nice size group. The kitchen is preparing traditional fare - matzo brie (fried matzo to me), matzo ball soup, kosher grape juice, even charoset. We will have all the items on our Seder plate and a wonderful haggadah to follow. I'm sure it won't be like any Seder I've had in the past, but it'll be perfect nonetheless!
For the many days of Passover, we are being given special meals - made specifically kosher for Passover. I will be back to warming up my "TV type dinners" from a microwave being used only for Passover. It'll take me waiting for each person before me, as well as an additional 6 minutes at the microwave to be able to heat up and eat my meal. I've been told meals are good - much better than the kosher "sardines" or "spaghetti" I was trying to fare during my early weeks in prison. Also, I've been told that we are each receiving a box of matzo for our locker to have for snacks. I love matzo and butter, but there's no butter here, I can get some in the dining hall if I bring my matzo there. I'll buy some cream cheese at commissary this week, and spread that goodness on the matzo. It will be a great snack! I don't always do perfect with keeping kosher for Passover, but I think it will actually be easier here!
If you remember, I had put out today, April 14th, as the day I wanted to go home by. I really wanted to be home for Passover. I'd put it out to the world, but it was not to be. That's okay, at least I know I'll be home soon. Passover is about "freedom," I'm one of the few lucky ones at tonight's table. I'm going home and will be free very soon, some at the table are not so fortunate, including at least one with life in here. So, I'm going with the flow. I'm going to enjoy my Passover and remember how grateful I am that next year, I will be with my family and friends on the holiday. Perhaps I'll tell a story about Passover in Prison, perhaps not. I shall never forget, though, that I know.
From Dragonfly: Little Red Card
It's the size of a business card and has your vital information. It can be used to check out a book, receive goods, and even fly on an airplane. It is your official U.S. Department of Justice I.D. On the bottom right corner, it says, "INMATE" in large capital letters. It has your picture in front of the famous height chart. It lists your name, eye color, and height (although mine says 5'2" and even if you don't take my word for my height being a mere 5', you could just look to that same height chart behind me, where the wisps of my hair get me to that 5' line...). Some older i.d.'s also list birthdays, but for some reason, that was taken off - perhaps women didn't want others to know how old they really were - lol.
The little red card is considered a "part" of our uniform. We are supposed to carry it everywhere with us, and if we can't produce it when asked, we can get in trouble. We must show it upon entry to indoor rec. I find that interesting, as it's like flashing your membership card at a work-out club... but in our case, we are members for the mere fact that we are HERE. It's just one of those rules, and so we do it. The card used to be used at commissary, but now they have fancy fingerprint reading devices, that work for the majority of us, so the card stays in your pocket just in case.
I was mentioning to a friend, yesterday, that we are supposed to take our little red cards out with us when we go home. It's to be used as i.d. for our bus/plane tickets, etc. I have a valid license, so I will not have to use the i.d., but it did get me thinking about ways NOT to use your prisoner i.d. once you are home. The following would probably NOT go so well, if you did:
- obtain a bank loan
- lease a car
- rent a car
- purchase real estate
- lease an apartment from a landlord
- give to an officer when you are stopped for speeding
- hire a stock brocker
- guantee rental equipment
- introduce yourself to your new neighbors
- make business cards of your i.d.
- during your in-person interview for a job
- at your kids' pre-school
- apply for a new credit card
- during a PTA meeting
- meet a new doctor
- on your election promo signs for city mayor
- blown up in your store window
- obtain a bid card at an auction
- the first time you are on a date
- as your photo on an online matchmaking program
- as your facebook profile picture
- actually, anywhere on facebook!
- a new instragram photo with your daily update
- obtain a passport
- travel to a foreign country
- try to get into Canada
Well, once again, you get the drift. I imagine many people dump their i.d.'s as soon as they are out of the gate. Mine will likely go into my box of "things." It's a box with keepsakes of all types. Some people walk out of here and never want to look back. For me, I always want to remember, seeing my frown and the fear in my eyes as they took my picture, as another reminder of why I am in recovery, why I must make the healthiest choices, and that I survived this place.
The little red card is considered a "part" of our uniform. We are supposed to carry it everywhere with us, and if we can't produce it when asked, we can get in trouble. We must show it upon entry to indoor rec. I find that interesting, as it's like flashing your membership card at a work-out club... but in our case, we are members for the mere fact that we are HERE. It's just one of those rules, and so we do it. The card used to be used at commissary, but now they have fancy fingerprint reading devices, that work for the majority of us, so the card stays in your pocket just in case.
I was mentioning to a friend, yesterday, that we are supposed to take our little red cards out with us when we go home. It's to be used as i.d. for our bus/plane tickets, etc. I have a valid license, so I will not have to use the i.d., but it did get me thinking about ways NOT to use your prisoner i.d. once you are home. The following would probably NOT go so well, if you did:
- obtain a bank loan
- lease a car
- rent a car
- purchase real estate
- lease an apartment from a landlord
- give to an officer when you are stopped for speeding
- hire a stock brocker
- guantee rental equipment
- introduce yourself to your new neighbors
- make business cards of your i.d.
- during your in-person interview for a job
- at your kids' pre-school
- apply for a new credit card
- during a PTA meeting
- meet a new doctor
- on your election promo signs for city mayor
- blown up in your store window
- obtain a bid card at an auction
- the first time you are on a date
- as your photo on an online matchmaking program
- as your facebook profile picture
- actually, anywhere on facebook!
- a new instragram photo with your daily update
- obtain a passport
- travel to a foreign country
- try to get into Canada
Well, once again, you get the drift. I imagine many people dump their i.d.'s as soon as they are out of the gate. Mine will likely go into my box of "things." It's a box with keepsakes of all types. Some people walk out of here and never want to look back. For me, I always want to remember, seeing my frown and the fear in my eyes as they took my picture, as another reminder of why I am in recovery, why I must make the healthiest choices, and that I survived this place.
Monday, April 14, 2014
From Dragonfly: Fireworks
I was aware of no large holiday falling on April 12th, but nonetheless, last night, as we started our short walk between the track at outdoor rec and our unit, fireworks!!!! At first, I thought it would be just a couple shots of color sent up in the sky, perhaps a private showing/doing, but as we continued to walk, they continued to be launched. Red, blue, silver, gold, green, changing colors, sparklies, and just the slightest "bang," the fireworks continued to fly and be seen beyond our unit and indoor rec. I sat down on a bench and just looked at the sky - beauty. In fact, the compound became quiet, except for some "oohs," and "ahs," as the fireworks continued to fly.
It left many of us pondering on why, on April12th, would there be fireworks? Was there a festival of some sort going on nearby, perhaps at the Bear Lake campground area? Was it a celebration of the oncoming Easter/Passover/Holy weeks? No one knew the answer, we just all had our heads up and faces of "awe" with unexpected delight.
"Inmate Recall! Inmate Recall!" Hope that they would put off our recall until the show ends, was not to be... we all slowly continued our gait back to our units, slower than usual, looking straight up in the sky. Once I was nearing the main entryway to my unit, the irony of seeing fireworks over a prison building hit me. I wish I had a camera for that image... fireworks over an unattractive building with bars on the windows just didn't seem to fit together. At the same time, it gave the building an aura of beauty for just the short moments of the color streaming down behind it.
In my unit, half the units face North and have South. Mine faces South, the wrong way for the fireworks. Of those with windows facing North, only those who were outside prior, knew to look out their windows. There was no way the sounds of the fireworks could overshadow the constant sound of the unit. So every few rooms, the lights were off and the occupants looked through their bars, to watch the beauty unfold. It kept going for several more minutes. I'm told the finale was really spectacular. I could have risked being in another person's room to watch, but I don't take risks that could give me a shot. I have a goal, to see my next fireworks on July 4th with my family and friends, so anything that would possibly get me in trouble is not worth my while. Instead, out my window, I could see the women at the prison camp, on the other side of the fence, on the north side balcony, watching the fireworks as well. I was too far away to see their faces, but I imagine they, too, were awestruck, by the unexpected show in the sky.
It was almost peaceful, as I sat back for a few minutes and was able to take in the spectacular showering of light. To me, fireworks will always represent freedom, and as hard as it is to imagine, I am still free (even if I sometimes write that I am not). My freedom exists within me, as I am free from an addiction that nearly took my life, an addiction that would not have allowed me to care about the show of lights in the sky, an addiction that held me much more captive than I am each day in this prison. Just a couple days ago, I was listening to a guest Rabbi, as we prepare for our Passover week. He talked, too, about Freedom. I shared my take on being more free here, than I was all those years of gambling. The other Jewish women sat around, thinking too, about how even in the confines of prison, our freedom to feel, react, choose, and live is within each of us.
I have no idea why or where the fireworks occurred last night. I don't know if there was some large crowd enjoying them, if they were set to music, if it was a public or private showing. What I do know, is that for the brief moment of watching the show, I felt grateful to have it. I will never see fireworks the same again.
It left many of us pondering on why, on April12th, would there be fireworks? Was there a festival of some sort going on nearby, perhaps at the Bear Lake campground area? Was it a celebration of the oncoming Easter/Passover/Holy weeks? No one knew the answer, we just all had our heads up and faces of "awe" with unexpected delight.
"Inmate Recall! Inmate Recall!" Hope that they would put off our recall until the show ends, was not to be... we all slowly continued our gait back to our units, slower than usual, looking straight up in the sky. Once I was nearing the main entryway to my unit, the irony of seeing fireworks over a prison building hit me. I wish I had a camera for that image... fireworks over an unattractive building with bars on the windows just didn't seem to fit together. At the same time, it gave the building an aura of beauty for just the short moments of the color streaming down behind it.
In my unit, half the units face North and have South. Mine faces South, the wrong way for the fireworks. Of those with windows facing North, only those who were outside prior, knew to look out their windows. There was no way the sounds of the fireworks could overshadow the constant sound of the unit. So every few rooms, the lights were off and the occupants looked through their bars, to watch the beauty unfold. It kept going for several more minutes. I'm told the finale was really spectacular. I could have risked being in another person's room to watch, but I don't take risks that could give me a shot. I have a goal, to see my next fireworks on July 4th with my family and friends, so anything that would possibly get me in trouble is not worth my while. Instead, out my window, I could see the women at the prison camp, on the other side of the fence, on the north side balcony, watching the fireworks as well. I was too far away to see their faces, but I imagine they, too, were awestruck, by the unexpected show in the sky.
It was almost peaceful, as I sat back for a few minutes and was able to take in the spectacular showering of light. To me, fireworks will always represent freedom, and as hard as it is to imagine, I am still free (even if I sometimes write that I am not). My freedom exists within me, as I am free from an addiction that nearly took my life, an addiction that would not have allowed me to care about the show of lights in the sky, an addiction that held me much more captive than I am each day in this prison. Just a couple days ago, I was listening to a guest Rabbi, as we prepare for our Passover week. He talked, too, about Freedom. I shared my take on being more free here, than I was all those years of gambling. The other Jewish women sat around, thinking too, about how even in the confines of prison, our freedom to feel, react, choose, and live is within each of us.
I have no idea why or where the fireworks occurred last night. I don't know if there was some large crowd enjoying them, if they were set to music, if it was a public or private showing. What I do know, is that for the brief moment of watching the show, I felt grateful to have it. I will never see fireworks the same again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)