Prison Journal: Day 8,021
July 26, 2009
A sad reality of prison life is that the rules limit us to 300 telephone minutes per month. With my writing, my preparations for release, and Internet projects, I feel obligated to reserve all of my phone minutes for Carole, who coordinates my interactions with society. A consequence of this choice is that I feel estranged from my mother and my sisters.
We’ve had news here about e-mail services that the prison will make available to the prisoners of Taft Camp. Prisoners in several other camps already have access to e-mail and from what I’ve heard it’s a wonderful system. We will have to pay a nominal fee to use the e-mail system, but we will not have to suffer the ridiculous limitations that block us from telephone and visiting access. I’m really optimistic about the e-mail program, as once it comes, I’ll be able to build closer connections with my mom and my sisters.
This morning I resumed my work on chapter 5 at 3:12 AM. I wrote through page 233, then went outside to exercise. After finishing my run, I returned to my writing, and by 3:00 in the afternoon I had reached page 236 of the manuscript, concluding the first draft of chapter five. I spent the remainder of the afternoon writing letters to professors who have invited me to speak at their universities upon my release.
I ran 10 miles this morning. My running tally is now 1,999 miles over the past 226 days.
Prison Journal: Day 8,012
July 17, 2009
I woke early this morning, at 1:30 am, and an enthusiasm ran through me to resume my work. I’m approaching the final pages of chapter four, and it’s exciting for me to bring this section to completion. By 6:00, I wrote through page 180 of the manuscript.
With Friday being a visiting day, I ran the shorter distance of three miles, and followed the slow run with 250 push ups. My running tally now stands at 1,916 miles over the past 217 days.
After showering and dressing, I read news magazines until I heard the guard page me for my visit with Carole. With school being out for summer, the visiting room is much more crowded on Fridays than it feels during the months when school is in session. A new crew of staff members now oversees the visiting process at Taft Camp, and they seem much more vigilant than those who’ve worked during previous months.
The guard upset me when he called me up to the desk, interrupting my visit. He scolded me because I caressed my wife’s arm with my hand. These types of reprimands frustrate me, remind me that I am a prisoner. I don’t like the feeling at all. I don’t touch her in a shameful way. In fact, it is the same way I would touch her if we were sitting in a church service. I simply stroke her cheek, rub her neck, or her arm in a loving manner, the way I would if I were in any other public place.
The rules state that visitors can embrace and kiss only at the beginning and end of each visit. We can hold hands during the visit, but rules do not permit further contact. As a 45-year-old man who loves his wife, I resent them. This separation from family, for me, is the worst part of confinement, and I find it dehumanizing.
As we were leaving our visit, I saw another prisoner crying as he was embracing his children. I felt so sad for him and for the children. The man is in his 40s, and has about two years remaining to serve of a three-year sentence.
This separation from family is difficult. I look forward to release, though three more years may likely pass before I begin my life with Carole.
Prison Journal: Day 7,972
June 7, 2009
This morning I woke at 3:15, eager to resume my work on the manuscript. I’m on the final pages of the first draft for chapter two. That doesn’t sound like I’ve done much work, but I have more than 20,000 words of the manuscript written, which is a strong start. I’ll likely suspend the writing later this week, at least for a few months. I want my agent to have a chance to make suggestions.
At 6:00 I went outside to exercise, but the guards interrupted my run with a surprise count. I returned to the housing unit and I didn’t get back to the track until 7:30. I ran a total of nine miles, then returned to the housing unit to resume my work.
I found it difficult to focus today. I missed Carole. We’re approaching our anniversary and I feel so fortunate to have her love. Few long-term prisoners receive the blessing of love, I know. I’m grateful for what I have, but sad that Carole and I must spend so much time apart. I wish that rules permitted us to visit more, or to talk on the phone more. Rules are very rough on prison families like ours.
Ordinarily, writing takes my mind off of the life I’m missing. But I will not see Carole this coming Friday because she has a class to take. Knowing that we’ll miss a visiting day leaves me counting the days that must pass before we’ll see each other again. It’s 12 days from today, and for some reason, that feels interminable.
I need to focus on my work and on my exercise. By tomorrow I will be productive again. I don’t have any close friends here, as I’m not really a part of the prison population. I’m in the prison, but not of the prison. That’s not a reflection of the other prisoners. They are all well-mannered, for the most part. It’s just my self-imposed schedule keeps me in a kind of cocoon. I’m in bed by 5:30 every afternoon. I wake around 3:00 each morning, and my only break from writing is for exercise, which I do alone. My one friend, Justin, went home in May, and unless someone comes to my housing unit, I’ll likely spend a lot of time alone with my work. This focus makes me crave time with Carole, though it causes me to miss her as well.
My running tally is at 1,560 miles over the past 177 days.
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,932
April 28, 2009
Michael and Carole Santos, April 2009
Many prisoners ask whether I’ll be faithful to my wife once my prison term ends. I don’t identify with the logic that leads them to ask me such questions. They assume that as a consequence of the decades I’ve served I would want to enjoy relationships with many women. When I respond that I will build and nurture a stronger, thriving relationship with Carole, they tell me that I’ll have to wait and see what the world is like when I get out. To me, such statements are ridiculous.
Living in and maturing through a long prison term has been like living on a planet separate from the Earth. I’ve been watching the world turn as I aged through my 20s, 30s, and 40s. During all of that time I’ve kept one vision in my head, which was how I wanted to emerge from this experience. Such a vision has led to the values by which I commit to living the rest of my life. The concept of fidelity is at the top of those values.
Falling in love is a simple act, but building a thriving marriage takes work and commitment. The other prisoners who tell me that I don’t know what it’s like in the world may be accurate in that I don’t know what they have experienced. But I do know that I love my wife and that I intend to measure every decision I make by the metric of whether it strengthens the thriving marriage I’m committed to building.
Carole and I have grown together through conditions that would challenge any relationship. Despite the hardship that comes as a part of imprisonment, we continuously grow closer as husband and wife, as partners, as friends. She inspires me to work harder, as I’m always striving to prove worthy of the love she gives. I pledge the rest of my life to her with love because she is the only woman with whom I want to share the good times that will accompany my release. It is not that I owe her my life because of what she has given to me through all these years. Rather, she is the central part of my life, the woman to whom I want to grow closer and with whom I want to experience the liberty that comes with my release. I choose to grow closer to Carole every day, to make deeper commitments to our marriage. When other prisoners insinuate that I will see the world differently upon my release, such suggestions seem as preposterous as statements that after all these years, I may make decisions that could return me to prison.
I do not have to experience freedom to know that I will live faithfully to Carole. I value my marriage and the relationship that I share with my wife. That certainty gives me clarity that I rely upon. All of my decisions begin with the end in mind, and in the end, I know that I will be with Carole, my wife and my love. That vision guides everything I say, everything I think, and everything I do. Those are the reasons I know that I will live as a faithful husband to Carole, and I will do so with enthusiasm.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,880
March 7, 2009
The economic crisis that plagues the lives of millions really stings some people in prison. Today I interviewed Thomas Ross, a fellow prisoner who serves time with me at Taft Camp. Thomas serves a lengthy sentence, though the prison time is not nearly as difficult as the despondency that comes with knowing that his wife and children are struggling financially.
Newspapers and news magazines are covering the challenges people across the nation are suffering. President Obama and his leadership team have an economic plan to stimulate the economy and help American families. I intend to make more of an effort to write about people I’m meeting in prison, as I know the economic problems of unemployment, foreclosure, and health care complicate prison adjustments.
Carole and I feel blessed to have stability in our lives. We have been struggling as a prison family since 2002, though long-term plans we made, together with our commitment to each other, enabled us to prepare. In our case, the preparations began long before our marriage. I made a commitment to educate myself at the beginning of my term. Because of that choice, Carole and I we were able to pursue an income stream through my writing. Royalties that flowed from books we published enabled Carole to attend nursing school. We chose that option because our research showed the shortage of nurses. Health care is one of the few sectors that offers job security. As a prison family, we both understand the importance of stability for our family.
When I counsel other prisoners, I try to help them develop long-term plans that will strengthen them through confinement. Those plans must include their family members, as imprisonment is an affliction that hurts the entire family. The recent Pew Report shows that 1 in 31 Americans is beholden to the criminal justice system. For black and Hispanic families, the number is much more discouraging.
Carole and I continue our efforts to prepare for my release. While we serve this sentence, however, we are equally committed to influencing leaders to support prison reform legislation. Members of Congress like Danny Davis and Senator Jim Webb are leading the charge, though I feel a responsibility to make contributions from inside prison boundaries. Carole is helping by learning more about steps we can take to reach more people through our blog. She and our friend Josh recently signed up for a blogging class. I do my part by waking early and writing stories and articles on prison each day in longhand. We are a real prison family.
I woke this morning at 2:30 and I finished writing four blog articles before 7:00. I ran 10 miles, continuing my running string for the 85th day. I interviewed Thomas and in the late afternoon I began writing his story. In the evening, I began reading through well written course material Carole and Josh were studying on blogging techniques. The more I learn, the more effective I hope to become on expanding my authority as a writer both on prison reform and overcoming adversity.
Saturday, 7 March 2009
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