Prison Journal: Day 8,047
August 21, 2009
This morning, I woke at 2:05, eager to begin my outline and initial pages for chapter nine of Earning Freedom. This chapter will bring me great memories, because it is the chapter where I write about the beginnings of my relationship with Carole. This is where our story begins together, and I’m eager to live it once again through these words. I wrote through page 373 of the manuscript this morning.
I ran three miles, then came inside to prepare for my visit with Carole. She surprised me by coming with Julie, my nephew Zachary, and my niece Sophia. We enjoyed a wonderful day together, with the children on my lap. I hadn’t seen my sister since last January, and the children haven’t been here in longer than a year. They’ve grown several inches.
When I left the visiting room today, I felt sad. It’s difficult for me to see the tangible evidence of how much time has gone by since my prison term began. Zach is now in the fourth grade, and I’ve missed those early years of his life. When I come home, he’ll be 12 or 13, Sophia will be nine. I miss my family.
I also missed my time with Carole today. Those six days we spend apart from each other every week really make me long for her. I cherish the time with my family, but it came at the expense of connecting with my wife. I’m at a stage in this journey when I need more, rather than less time with Carole. I’m glad that I’ll have chapter nine to write this week, as it will bring me closer to her.
My running tally, incidentally, is now at 2,231 miles over the past 252 days.
Also, when I returned to my housing unit after the visit, I received the most wonderful letter from a Mr. Holland, of Australia. Mr. Holland is a reader of my work, and he wrote how it inspired him to strive toward becoming a better husband. This gratifies me beyond words, and I intend to write back to Mr. Holland once I complete my manuscript. My writing energy goes to my work and the daily blog now, but I want him to know that I appreciate the kind thoughts he expressed.
Prison Journal: Day 8,033
August 7, 2009
Today was a visiting day for me at Taft Camp, so I woke with enthusiasm at 1:44 am. I wanted to read through the edits I’ve made to the first two chapters of the manuscript. Next week, I expect that Carole will submit my proposal along with three sample chapters to my agent. While he considers it, I will continue writing. I worked through page 283 this morning, taking me deeper into chapter seven.
I went outside for exercise, running three miles. That brought my running tally to 2,105 miles over the past 238 consecutive days.
Carole was here at 8:10, but with the line and processing, our visit didn’t begin until 8:35. One week feels too long for us to pass between visits. Some prisoners prefer to avoid visiting, but Carole is my connection to the world. I cherish every minute that we’re together. When she’s beside me my heart pounds, not only with exhilaration from her touch, but also with anticipation of how wonderful life will be once I’m released from prison and living with her.
Today, I had the privilege of meeting a few people in the visiting room. Steve is a fellow prisoner here at Taft Camp, and while Carole and I were visiting, Steve enjoyed a visit from his wife, Peggy, and daughter, Meg. Peggy is an English professor, and she has been kind to edit my initial work on the manuscript.
We also met Suzy, a wife from Utah who flew in to visit her husband. She came over and introduced herself to us, and thanked us for posting regular news about life at Taft Camp.
Prison Journal: Day 8,019
July 24, 2009
Friday, 24 July 2009
I’m so grateful for my Friday visits with Carole. If I were a better writer I’d be able to help readers understand why my time with her is so valuable. The joy begins in earnest for me on Wednesdays. As I’m running around the track in the morning, I’m relieved to know that my time with her is coming in only two days. When I wake on Thursdays, I’m eager to resume my writing and get my exercise in, because I know the next morning when I wake, I’ll have only hours to wait before we kiss.
Today I woke at 1:44, and soon after I resumed my work on chapter five. I wrote through page 223 of the manuscript, I then went outside to run five miles, bringing my tally to 1,979 miles over the past 224 days. At 7:00 I reported to pill call for the allergy tablet, then I returned to the unit and prepared for my visit.
I don’t know what it’s going to feel like when I’m released, when visiting won’t come on a weekly schedule. Other prisoners at Taft Camp don’t care so much about visiting, and I can relate to their apprehensions. Earlier in my journey, I went through stages where I’d pass seasons, sometimes as long as a year without visiting. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have welcomed an embrace from family, but I had a mindset that served me well at the time. I obsessed over the goals I set, the educational credentials I wanted to earn, the projects I deemed necessary and integral to my prospects for success. Since I couldn’t control visiting possibilities, I focused on my work.
Now I’m so much closer to my release that I’m obsessing over the preparations I must make. Carole plays an essential role in my release plans, so I need every minute possible with her. We only have Fridays available to us now, but soon I will be home and have a life to share with her. That inspires me. The thought of such a possibility gets me up early each morning, it keeps me motivated to run without a break.
Friday, 24 July 2009
Prison Journal: Day 8,018
July 23, 2009
During my sick call appointment this morning, the nurse wrapped a band around my arm to check my blood pressure. She told me the reading was 128 over 72. My pulse, she said, was 54 beats per minute, which she said was low. She asked whether I exercise regularly, then said my vitals were fine when I told her my running schedule.
Up until this past year, I never attended sick call procedures. The need for allergy pills requires that I go now, and it’s probably good that I do so I can keep these records of my pulse and blood pressure.
This morning I read an article about the high expectations industry watchers have for electronic publishing. Amazon’s Kindle will soon have a competitor from Barnes and Noble. Those devices may generate billions of dollars in publishing revenues. My work, I think, will sell well in this arena, and once I finish the manuscript for Earning Freedom, I expect to write new content specifically for this market. I want to have a lot of content ready for distribution upon my release.
An acquaintance asked whether I will continue this writing schedule after I finish Earning Freedom. I expect to continue this schedule until administrators release me from this sentence. I will go to bed before six each evening, and begin working between 1:00 and 3:00 every morning. Today I began at 1:17, and by the time I put my work away, I wrote through page 220 of the manuscript.
I ran 10 miles in the morning. My running tally is now 1,974 miles over the past 223 days.
Tomorrow I’m visiting with the lovely Carole, and I’ve been thinking about the kiss we’ll be able to share at the start and finish of our visit. Those thoughts have carried me through the day.
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 7,998
July 3, 2009
When I woke at 3:05 this morning, I had writing on my mind. I wanted to work my way through a specific section of my early adjustment. It describes a job I had working as a clerk in a prison factory while I was in the penitentiary. A very nice woman supervised me, and because of her kindness, I was able to make real progress toward goals I was setting.
Today being a Friday, I knew that I would only have the early morning session available for creative writing. By 6:00 AM, I completed through page 129 of my manuscript, then went outside to exercise. I only ran four miles, and followed with 200 pushups, because my wife, Carole was coming to visit. I wrestled with the idea of calling to suggest that she drive up a little later than usual, as I suspected we might face a crowded visiting room.
Fridays, usually, are the best days to visit at Taft Camp because they are the least crowded days. Besides the quiet, if we limit our visits to Friday, Carole and I can see each other at least once each week. Prisoners who choose to visit on Saturdays or Sundays must skip a few weeks of visiting each month.
Today had special significance because tomorrow, Saturday, is America’s Independence Day. I should have known that with many families planning festivities for the holiday, the visiting room at Taft Camp would have been packed today. I thought about it, but I did not act on my thoughts, and because I did not call Carole to suggest she delay her visit by an hour, I suffered.
Carole arrived at 8:20, making her the seventh person to arrive in the visiting room. Soon after we sat together, crowds of people began to show up. My stomach felt a little jittery as I watched people checking in; I knew that if too many came, gaurds would terminate the visits of those who arrived first and, sure enough, we were notified at 11:10 that our visit was being shortened because of overcrowding. I was able to spend fewer than three hours with my wife this week.
After the visit, I returned to my housing unit and read. Creativity necessary for writing would not have come. Every second that I lose with my wife hurts, especially at this stage of my confinement. I’m looking forward to visiting next Friday, but many hours must pass before then.
My running tally after this morning’s exercise is at 1,790 miles over the past 203 days of consecutive running.
Prison Journal: Day 7,977
June 12, 2009
Last night I finished the final edits I would make to the sample chapter for Earning Freedom. I put the changes in an envelope and sent them off to Carole. She should receive the envelope on Saturday, and after she makes the changes, Carole will submit the package to Jim, the literary agent who represents my work.
With the submission, a waiting period begins. I’ve written 25 percent of the manuscript, and I intend to wait for some word from my agent before I write more. Several months may pass, and that time will open a window of opportunity to write more content for the web. I intend to interview other prisoners and write their stories.
These allergies continue to trouble me. The nurse has been issuing me these little yellow pills called CTM, and they alleviate the dizziness, though I still feel pressure in my ears. I had the same problem last year, but I toughed it out through the discomfort rather than seeking medication. I would like to purchase my own medication so I wouldn’t have to hassle with sick-call procedures. Fortunately, the health services staff at Taft Camp are very friendly and helpful. I prefer to live independently as much as I can, however, and would like to avoid the waiting, the scheduling, the time slots. In order to receive the medicine, I must comply with the bureaucratic protocol.
I expect to visit with my friend Lee this morning, and Carole will join us this afternoon. With these visits, I enjoy a respite from prison. Someday I will not have to wait for visiting days, but the concept of living in society still feels foreign to me. For now I’m grateful for visiting days.
I intend to run four miles this morning, and that run will boost my tally to an even 1,600 miles over a consecutive 182 days.
Friday, 12 June 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,965
May 31, 2009
I heard a rumor here at Taft Camp that I find disturbing. I don’t know whether there is truth behind it, and I won’t explore it further than writing about my frustrations concerning the rumor on this journal entry. What I heard concerns access to visiting and telephone. The rules of Taft prison camp limit each prisoner to 300 minutes of telephone time per month, and they also limit prisoners to a maximum of one visit per week. Rumor has it, however, that senior administrators at Taft Camp award extra telephone minutes and visiting time each month to at least one inmate.
I am all for incentives, and justice would persuade administrators at Taft Camp to authorize meaningful incentives for all prisoners. The incentive policy should be transparent. Individuals who abide by the established rules and make contributions to the prison community or the broader society beyond prison boundaries ought to earn the incentives. When administrators erect obstacles that block the majority of prisoners from nurturing family and community ties, but grant pet inmates more telephone and visiting privileges, they do not further the interest of transparent leadership. Instead, they breed anger and cynicism.
Numerous academic studies have shown that those prisoners who maintain strong family and community ties represent the most likely group to succeed upon release. As Senator Jim Webb said, our criminal justice system is a national disgrace. One reason that prison policies upset me is that despite such research, administrators erect these obstacles like telephone and visiting limitations. If the rumors that I have heard at Taft Camp are true, administrators make allowances for pet inmates to get around the limitations while the rest of us suffer. These are the reasons our criminal justice system is a national disgrace. If administrators are going to offer incentives, they should offer the incentives in a transparent way so that all prisoners can work toward earning them.
This morning I began my work at 2:37. I wrote through page 82 on the manuscript. At 6:00 I went outside to exercise. I ran 10 miles, then followed the run with 250 push ups. My running tally now stands at 1,500 miles over the past 170 consecutive days.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,959
May 25, 2009
Today is Memorial Day, and I feel rejuvenated because Carole drove over to spend the day holding my hand. I feel so blessed to have Carole’s love, and every minute I share with her in a visit liberates me from confinement.
Prior to the tough-on-crime policies that really took hold during the Reagan years, I read that sentencing judges frequently gave young offenders a choice. The judges said offenders could sign up for military duty, or they could serve a prison term. The theory held that judges recognized people frequently made bad decisions in their late teens and early 20s. Rather than relegate a young man to the penitentiary, where the criminal influence was pervasive, the judge would provide the young offender with an opportunity to earn freedom through contribution to his country.
Had I been offered that opportunity to enlist in the military, I would have devoted myself to the privilege. By the time my jury convicted me, a deep remorse had set in. Military service was not an option in my case, though I feel strongly that such options yield far more justice and benefit society than lengthy prison terms. Whereas prison recidivism rates suggest that these institutions perpetuate continuing cycles of failure, America’s military breeds leadership, character, discipline, and other virtues that shape men into good citizens. I salute those in the military, and regret that I did not choose such an honorable path when I was a young man.
Carole and I are both very proud of her son, Michael, who soon will deploy for a lengthy tour in Iraq. As a soldier, Michael will serve our country while simultaneously developing skills that will translate into a sustainable career upon his return.
I empathize with those on military duty, as I know the pain that comes with separation from family. As a prisoner at least I am blessed with regular visits. I was happy to spend Memorial Day with my wife, and I say a prayer for all those in the military who did not enjoy such a gift today.
This morning, before my visit, I wrote some and I ran six miles. My tally now stands at 1,448 miles over the past 164 days.
Monday, 25 May 2009
Prison Journal: Day 7,950
May 16, 2009
I had a difficult time sleeping last night. That is not a problem I have too often. My visit with Carole went really well yesterday, though the news she shared about support I was receiving from people in the world really influenced my equanimity. I don’t know how long this is going to last.
After our visit, I returned to my housing unit and I read through the mail. By 5:00 PM I lay on my rack. My eyes felt especially heavy though I could not sleep. I closed them and simply thought. I thought about what my life will be like when I am not a prisoner. I can’t fully think about being free, so I’m gradually preparing myself by imagining what it will feel like to live with some kind of supervision, though not as a prisoner.
I am 45 now. I have a master’s degree though I would have liked to have earned either a PhD or a law degree. As I lay on my rack last night, I thought about finishing another degree program. Then I came to the conclusion that I am too old for such ambitions. If I were to walk out of prison in three years, two years, or even one year, I would need to begin working. I need to begin accumulating resources that will allow Carole and me to own a home. We are poor. I cannot afford to work through three to four more years of school and accumulate tens of thousands in tuition debt. I must sacrifice such fantasies, just as I’ve had to realize that I will never be a father. Even if I were to walk out of prison this year, the context of prison will always be a part of my life.
I have to become okay with this reality. To find happiness, or to create happiness, I feel strongly that I must make the most of what I have. This means, I believe, that I must take factors into consideration such as my age, my family’s needs, my earning capacity over the remainder of my working years, and the challenges that may continue to hang over my head as a consequence of the bad decisions I made in my early twenties.
Those thoughts interrupted my sleep. I woke numerous times. At 2:27 I hopped down from my rack and gathered my gear to write. Since I cannot allow myself to dwell on the challenges that I may face upon release, I thank God for the blessings Carole and I receive. Then I set to work on preparing for the day I will walk out of prison.
At 6:00 I went to exercise. I ran 10 miles and followed with 300 pushups. My running tally is now 1,372 miles over the past 155 consecutive days.
Saturday, 16 May 2009
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