Prison Journal: Day 7,993
June 28, 2009
I’m kind of bummed out because the shoes I ordered through the commissary at Taft Camp are too tight. At this camp, the commissary does not stock any shoes. Instead, prisoners need to order the shoes from a catalog selection. On May 1, I ordered a pair of Nike running shoes. More than six weeks passed before I received them.
When I receive the shoes, they felt a little snug, but since I didn’t want to wait another six weeks, I decided to accept them. I ran in them last week for the first time, and they were so tight they cut into my upper heel. Blood now stains the back of the shoes. I decided to let the wound heal, hoping a callous would stop the cutting. I tried the shoes again this morning, first coating my feet with vaseline, but I could feel the shoes were not going to work.
I won’t be able to order antoher pair of running shoes until Wednesday because of ridiculous spending rules. Taht means I will not receive my next pair of running shoes until sometime in mid-August. When I receive them, at least, I will be into my 23rd year.
Today we had the hottest day of the year. I did not begin my run until after I received my allergy pill at 7:00, and by then the sun was burning hot. I made it through my 10 miles, but at a slower pace. My tally is now 1,746 miles over the past 198 consecutive days. The temperature reached 108 degrees by late afternoon. I made more progress with my writing on chapter three, to page 107.
Prison Journal: Day 7,990
June 25, 2009
I woke this morning at 3:30, which is later than I’ve been waking. I’m frustrated, as I don’t feel as if I’m being as productive as I need to be. These months are very important to me, though when I’m not progressing as well as I should, I feel as if time is wasting. I need to pick up the pace and make more tangible, or measurable progress toward these preparations for my release.
As I was running this morning, some clarity came to me with regard to why I feel progress has slowed. On May 4, I began writing the new version of Earning Freedom. On May 24, I began writing chapter two, and I completed the draft of that chapter on June 8. During that time I’ve also done a considerable amount of editing on the proposal and chapter one, but I’ve suspended writing new content for the manuscript. My intentions were to wait until I heard from the literary agent who will represent the manuscript. That wait, however, could last through August, and I’m not willing to let all that time slip away.
During my run, I realized that I cannot allow this valuable time to pass without progress. Even though I may not hear from my agent until summer’s end, and Carole may fall behind with my typing, I need to resume my work. I haven’t felt productive because I haven’t done enough work to keep the manuscript project from advancing. That changes now.
I am focusing on the next 18 months. That goal takes me through the end of 2010. By that time, Carole will have completed her nursing education, and I will be well into my 24th year of imprisonment. I must have a solid draft of this manuscript complete by then, regardless of what my agent has done or Carole’s typing schedule. I’m responsible for preparing for release, and I cannot allow anything to interfere with my progress. When I do, I invite this frustration I’m feeling now. That ends as of this minute.
With my 10-mile run this morning, my tally now stands at 1,723 miles over the past 195 consecutive days. I followed the run with 200 pushups.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,989
June 24, 2009
This morning I woke at 2:30, and I lay on my rack thinking for 30-plus minutes before I hopped down. I had slept for more than eight hours and I was wide awake, but I was consumed with thoughts about Carole. Today is our anniversary. We married six years ago when I was at the prison in Fort Dix.
Most of the prisoners in the open dorm here at Taft Camp were still sleeping at that hour. I mentally went through where I was held during each of our prior anniversaries.
I spent my first anniversary after a year of marriage in Florence, Colorado. In 2005, I was in transit and on my way to the camp at Lompoc. On our second anniversary, I was locked in the Federal Transit Center, Oklahoma. In 2006, I was confined at the Lompoc Prison Camp. And since 2007, I’ve spent the past two anniversaries at Taft Prison Camp. I wonder where I’ll be on my seventh anniversary, in June of 2010.
Because we’re allowed to see each other on visiting days, Carole and I have never been able to celebrate an anniversary together. Even if we were able to visit, I don’t think that would suffice for much of a celebration, as guards wouldn’t allow us to kiss any longer or hold each other any closer. Those celebrations will have to wait until my release. I don’t know for certain how much longer that will be.
Since I remember that I ran on the morning of our wedding, I decided to run this morning earlier, at the same time as I ran six years ago. First I wrote an article about perspectives on time. Then, at 6:00, I went outside to run 10 miles. This run extended my tally to 1,713 miles over the past 194 days. At 8:00 I attended a TOAD meeting. I spent the rest of the day reading the lengthy memoir on Alexander Dolgun.
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,988
June 23, 2009
For the past couple of weeks I’ve been reading a few pages from a memoir before I fall asleep each night. The book title is An American in the Gulag, by Alexander Dolgun. I’ll write a book report when I finish, but I’m about at the halfway point and I want to recommend it to individuals who may be facing time in prison.
Dolgun went to prison many years ago, in the 1940s, and he received a 25-year sentence. A professional writer collaborated with him on the memoir, and I can report that although I aspire to write as well, this book has high literary value. The writers tell this gripping story with beautiful language and style.
I want others to read the book, even though it is more than 35-years-old because it portrays conditions far worse than any American prisoner will endure, and because it shows how the power of the human spirit can lift a prisoner through turmoil.
This morning I began writing at 3:23. By 6:30 I finished an article for Change.org that describes some of the anxieties or uncertainty I feel about returning to society. It sounds crazy, but I have this obsession about being ready. Regardless of how well prepared I think I am, I contemplate what more I can do during these remaining months that I must serve. I feel so grateful to have Carole’s love.
After receiving an allergy pill from the health services department at 7:00, I went to exercise. I ran 10 miles followed with 200 pushups. My running tally now stands at 1,703 miles over the past 193 days. I’m waiting for Carole to return the typed version of chapter two so I can edit, then I’ll resume my writing on the manuscript.
This afternoon I spoke with a fellow prisoner who has experience in the seminar business. I then read more from the Russian memoir. Tomorrow is my sixth anniversary of marriage with Carole, and I miss her; I wish that we could celebrate together. Maybe next year, or the year after that. Certainly by June 24, 2012 I think we’ll be together. I know we will be together in 2013 and every year thereafter.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,987
June 22, 2009
Yesterday afternoon I interviewed a man who returned to prison at Taft Camp because he violated conditions of his supervised release. He cited a list of excuses for the decisions he made that returned him to prison, though as I probed him with further questions, it became clear to us both that the man is serving an additional prison term because he did not plan properly.
I began writing the story at 3:30 this morning, and I finished writing it in the late morning, after completing my exercise. Carole will post the story on supervised release after it’s typed. I learn a lot from interviewing my fellow prisoners. Mostly, I find reinforcements for my certainty that a man must set clear plans in motion to succeed upon release.
Listening to people who return to prison after release both educates and troubles me. I pepper them with questions about what I can expect to encounter once I walk out from prison boundaries. I ask about halfway house restrictions, about travel requirements, about issues like health care, obtaining credit, insurance, and so on. The information I gather helps me prepare, though I’m also troubled by the precedent they have set.
Every time a person fails upon release from prison, I know that authorities and citizens become more cynical about all people in prison. I expect to encounter severe prejudice as a result of the bad decision I made when I was in my early 20s. Although I can make significant efforts to contribute and reconcile with society, I am sure that many will always consider me as the young man who was arrested in 1987 rather than the middle-aged man I’ve become after 22 years in prison.
At 7:00 this morning I reported to health services for an allergy pill. The pill has removed that dizzy spell I was enduring and I’m grateful to feel healthy and strong, and alert. I ran 10 miles, followed with 200 pushups, and returned to resume my work. I wrote a long letter to Dr. Joan Petersilia of Stanford Law School, then concluded the article I began writing in the early morning.
I continue reading An American in the Gulag, and I’m daunted by how much better this author writes as compared to me. I must work harder.
My running tally now stands at 1,693 miles over the past 192 days.
Monday, 22 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,986
June 21, 2009
Today is Father’s Day, and I know that many prisoners feel sad because they’re separated from family. David, the prisoner with whom I share a cubicle at Taft Prison Camp, told me that these holidays make him long for his wife and children. He is only 29, and visits with his family once or twice each month because of distance and expense. Frequently David sits on his bunk and flips through photo albums to reminisce about the joy he feels when holding his two young children. After 22 years of imprisonment, I no longer identify with those feelings.
I am 45-years-old and I expect that I will remain in prison until I am 48. Relief could bring me home sooner, but either way, I have long ago accepted that the bad decisions of my early 20s had irrevocable consequences, one of which meant that I would never know the joy of being a father. I reaffirmed that acceptance when I married Carole, my wife of six years.
Carole and I discussed these ancillary consequences of my imprisonment during our visit last Friday. Besides the reality that I would never have a child, the length of time I have served and continue to serve in prison also influences my career ambitions. Carole said that when I expressed such acceptances she felt as if our marriage was limiting my life. I had to hold her hand and assure her that our love brings me a liberty and fulfills me. It was not our marriage that blocked me from having children or building a thriving career. Rather, the bad choices I made in my early 20s determined the limitations with which I’m living now. Together, Carole and I will find fulfillment in ways that do not include children that we bring into the world together, and I’m looking forward to those possibilities.
My dad passed away five years ago, and his struggle with Alzheimer’s disease meant that I did not see him after 1994 or 1995, I don’t remember. He suffered tremendously as a consequence of my imprisonment, as does my mother. Thoughts of how those decisions I made as a young man hurt my family are always with me. I wonder whether I’ll move past them when I return to the world. In here I try to push such thoughts aside and focus on the preparations I must make for release, but on days like today, Father’s Day, I’m reminded of all that my life is missing.
I began writing this morning at 3:30. I enjoyed the quiet time and solitude and stayed at the table until 7:00. Then I walked to health services for an allergy pill and to the track to begin my exercise. I ran 10 miles and followed with 200 push ups. My running tally is now at 1,683 miles over the past 191 consecutive days. In the afternoon I interviewed Ray, a prisoner who returned to Taft Camp for a violation of supervised release.
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,985
June 20, 2009
I’ve frequently written about a theory of prison adjustment known as the u-shaped curve. This theory suggests that a prisoner struggles with higher levels of anxieties during the first and last portions of his imprisonment, while the middle or intermediate portion passes rather easily. Now that I’m in my final years of imprisonment, I can attest to the validity of this u-shaped curve theory.
I’m scheduled for release in four years, though I expect that my parole eligibility and halfway house placement will result in my return to society in less than three years. Three years may seem like a long stretch for some, but I have 22 years of imprisonment behind me, which means that I’ve completed about 90 percent of my time inside prison boundaries. For me, three years isn’t much.
My release will come during a time when our country really struggles with an economic crisis. It may or may not improve by the time I walk out of prison gates, and I know the responsibility is mine to prepare for the challenges ahead, the state of the economy notwithstanding. I feel as if I’ve prepared myself and my wife as well as I could have done, but anxieties sometimes overwhelm me when I think of the expenditures required to establish myself.
As I lie on my rack at night, I sometimes run through the numbers in my mind. I count the costs of clothes, an automobile, the computer equipment and communications gadgets I will need to launch my career, and the general living expenses. My arithmetic skills convince me that I must stand prepared to spend more than $60,000 during my first weeks of freedom.
Some may find such estimates over the top. Perhaps. I am taking into consideration the reality that I do not own a pair of socks, not a towel or a toothbrush. I do not have silverware, a couch or a table. I do not own a bed or a single pair of sheets. I do not have insurance, a business suit, or any of the other accessories that most 45-year-old men take for granted.
I am married to a magnificent woman, and together we have set plans in motion to prepare for those expenditures. Our lives begin with my release, whenever that comes, and I know that together we are up to the challenge. Yet when I read of high unemployment rates and a crumbling economy, I feel anxieties over the expenditures I anticipate.
In preparation, I continue writing about the prison experience. This morning, early, I finished a lengthy article on prison visiting for change.org. Then I ran 10 miles and followed the run with 200 push ups. I was supposed to interview a prisoner who returned to Taft Camp after a violation of supervised release, but he postponed our meeting until tomorrow. I wrote blogs in the afternoon and read. My running tally is now at 1,673 miles over the past 190 consecutive days.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,984
June 19, 2009
I woke early this morning to continue writing an article about visiting for change.org. When I returned to my cubicle for the 5:00 AM census count, I heard an NPR news report that financier R. Allen Stanford had been taken into federal custody. He was indicted for several fraud charges alleging that he orchestrated a massive Ponzi scheme through his company, Stanford Financial. He was due in court this morning.
I know exactly what Stanford is going through as a federal prisoner. He is confined to a federal detention center, which means he has been issued coarse clothing, a bed roll, and he is going out of his mind with all the noise in that concrete shell of a building to which he is confined. Since Stanford’s indictment suggests that his fraud is second only to Bernard Madoff’s, with billions of dollars in losses, I suspect he still has access to resources for a team of lawyers.
If so, Stanford may be spending several hours of each day in a tight, austere room that prison administrators reserve for legal visits. Regardless of how long he can sit with the lawyers, he still has to return each day to the madness of his prison cell.
I suspect that he is spending a lot of time pacing, counting his steps, or counting the concrete blocks that make up his cell, or counting the days since his troubles began. He is trying to occupy his mind, and he is wondering whether he can muster the strength to remain sane through what all probability would suggest a prison term of multiple decades. Many challenges await him, mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual.
The public denials and refusal to accept responsibility will aggravate Stanford’s sentence if a jury ultimately convicts him. By then, he will have burned through many millions in legal fees and feel the force of both the system and envious prisoners working against him. He thinks he is fighting for his life, but the scorched earth legal defense that he is adopting, I suspect, will only aggravate the severity of the sanction he ultimately receives. The government appears to have a strong case against him, and I expect that in years to come, when appeals have been exhausted, when the sentence’s finality hits home, Stanford will regret his refusal to accept responsibility early, his lack of cooperation, and his missed opportunity to express remorse. Thousands of days in prison await him, and I know the pounding such a term brings to a man’s psyche.
As I approach my eight thousandth day in prison, I feel grateful for the blessings I’ve received, and compassionate for others who are about to begin the journey. I’m thankful that I have a loving, devoted wife, and opportunities to interact with the world. This morning I enjoyed an abbreviated run of only three miles, and followed the run with 200 push ups. Then I spent the day visiting with Carole. In the evening I read more from a memoir of a man who was abducted by Russia’s KGB. My running tally now stands at 1,663 miles over the past 189 days.
Friday, 19 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,983
June 18, 2009
Last night members from our youth outreach program, Those Outspoken Against Drugs (TOAD) spoke to a group of adolescents who live in group homes. Our presentation lasted for two hours, with members describing the bad choices we made that led us to prison and performing skits that dramatize how easy it is for peer pressure to lead to confinement or death. Following our presentation, the TOAD members enjoyed a chicken dinner with the adolescents and interacted with them individually.
The stories I heard while sitting with the boys saddened me. I listened to one young man tell me that he had been living in various group homes since he was two-years-old. While he was an infant, the boy’s mother injected him with all types of drugs. Several doctors have told the boy that despite his never having used drugs on his own, he lives with a predisposition to addiction.
Another boy, who was 17, told me that he was hoping to transfer from a group home to a foster home. When I asked him to explain the difference, he told me that a foster home felt more like a family whereas a group home felt more like an institution. It sounded to me as if the boys have been living in a kind of prison for their entire lives; they have not known the family bonding that so many of us take for granted.
The boys who attended our presentation ranged in age from 12 to 17, thus I was incarcerated before any of them were born. When I told them how long I had been incarcerated, many expressed a kind of awe. In truth, I told them, my imprisonment resulted from the bad decisions I made when I was not much older than they were. Their lives were more difficult, I explained, because they struggled through challenges despite no fault of their own. We all would have to work toward happiness and fulfillment, and more opportunities would open once we left our institutions.
Because of last night’s presentation, I didn’t get to sleep until 8:00 PM. I wanted eight hours of rest, so I didn’t begin my writing this morning until 4:00 AM, which was my latest start in longer than six months. I ran 10 miles, boosting my tally to 1,660 miles over the past 188 consecutive days. Each day brings me another step closer to freedom. I followed my run with 200 push ups.
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,982
June 17, 2009
This morning I woke at 2:37, refreshed from more than eight hours of sleep. Ever since last November I’ve been on this schedule of going to sleep in the late afternoon and waking when most all the other prisoners sleep. Now I’m used to these hours. I really look forward to this time I can spend alone writing.
Another benefit of lying on my rack before six each evening is that I lessen my exposure to prison altercations. After the decades I have served, I’m rather skillful in avoiding trouble with other prisoners or staff, but while I’m lying on my rack I remove all possibility. At this stage of my confinement, staying away from disciplinary problems ranks high on my list of priorities.
Here in Taft Prison camp, where most of the prisoners are courteous and staff is less obtrusive than at any other prison where I’ve been held, I do not feel vulnerable to potential conflict at all. In fact I’m more at ease here than I’ve felt during the past 22 years. That raises the question of why I choose to sleep and wake so early.
Besides minimizing exposure to problems, this schedule gives me an exercise in will power. I like it. As a long-term prisoner I feel it necessary to assert control over aspects of my life, and forcing myself to abide by a self-imposed schedule provider the illusion that I sleep when I want, exercise when I want, and work when I want. The more time I can spend alone working on my writing projects, and the more I can avoid interference from prison complications, the more progress I feel that I’m making toward preparations for release.
This evening, unfortunately, I will not be able to sleep so early. We have a group of at-risk adolescents who are visiting TOAD, our youth outreach program for a presentation in the visiting room. The program is scheduled for two hours beginning at 5:00 PM, and that means I may not get to sleep until the ungodly hour of 8:00 PM. I spent the early part of my morning laying out our group’s presentation schedule. At 6:00 AM I ran 10 miles. This run brought my tally to 1,650 miles over the past 187 days.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
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