Tribute to Mom

My mother passed away on Wednesday, April 22^nd, 2015. The following essay is from a eulogy I wrote to be read at her funeral.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

               Mom was an incredibly loving, generous, selfless and giving woman.  Her greatest joy and passion in her life was her family.  She was never more alive or content than when she was surrounded by family, be it we kids, her sisters, her parents, or her grandchildren. This was when she was at her absolute all-time best.

               When her kids grew up and moved out, and after she and Dad separated, she never really fully recovered. That, combined with her recurring health issues of hepatitis C and diabetes, meant Mom really struggled for a very long time. I truly hope she has found peace at last.

               Mom put so much time and energy into helping others. First and foremost was her family, but this selflessness extended to everyone.  She was the first in our family to obtain a Master's degree -- in social work, of course. She threw herself completely into her work with troubled families and at-risk kids.

               In the years to come, many of us implored her to turn that loving, caring energy toward herself, but it was something she was unable to do.  Perhaps one of her biggest flaws, if it can be called that, was that she was too selfless.

               Throughout my life, Mom's unconditional love and concern for her kids was never in question, sometimes to our dismay, as she could be smothering at times.  She was involved in nearly every aspect of our lives in one way or another - an active member of PTA, an ever-present cheerleader at our many sports events, and she even made the long drive to Boston because I had a minor part in a college play.

               Though she and Dad never had a lot of money (they were both social workers), she spent all she had and more on Christmas gifts and birthday presents.  I recall how my brothers and I convinced our sister to continue the ruse that she believed in Santa, lest we stop getting such awesome presents. We should have known better, for long after the jig was up, Mom made sure that Christmas never lost its magic. Even when we were "adults", Mom made sure there were a few cool toys that we could play with.   

               She would rarely engage in the shenanigans and tomfoolery that were ever-present when we all got together, but there was always a gleam in her eye and a smile on her face while she rebuked us for such high jinks.   On the rare occasions when we could coax her to join in, it was pretty clear why she resisted, as she possessed neither coordination or grace in abundance, but that just made it all the more entertaining and endearing.

               Mom was a real trooper as well. She would embark on any adventure, so long as it led to time with her family.  From gypsy caravans to Florida, to the Canadian Rockies, from Mexican beaches to Japan, Mom would do anything to be with her family.

               I miss Mom so very much, it hurts me deeply that I was unable to be there with her or for her these past several years, but it wasn't by  design.  But I'm so very thankful for all that Mom has given me, taught me, and done for me. She was a model for unconditional love, kindness, compassion, generosity, honesty and selflessness. I've tried to practice these as a teacher, as a father, and most of all as a human.

Keeping Busy, with Purpose

A few months ago, I completed my correspondence course for paralegal certification and I was wondering what to do with myself next. Since then, a number of interesting opportunities have presented themselves to keep me busy in body, mind, and spirit.  I thought I'd share them with you.

First, I was introduced to Samir (Not his real name), a Saudi Arabian citizen who was arrested while studying English after only a few months in Flagstaff, AZ. So now, I'm giving him English lessons as he is barred from any educational programs offered to inmates due to his citizenship.  In exchange, I get to practice my Arabic with him. I enjoy teaching him, though it's a painful reminder that I'm a teacher at heart, a skill and gift that I may never be able to utilize again as an ex-felon sex -offender with lifetime probation.

Through him, I met Amr (not his real name), a political refugee from Sudan, one of the "lost boys," who rather lost himself in the incredible diversity and "debauchery" of this country, so unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

I've been "editing/translating" some of this writing, as his English is not particularly strong. It's been incredibly moving to read about his difficult journey, his dream of escaping the violence, hatred, and genocide of the Sudan, and his incredible joy and relief at the opportunity to go to America, fulfilling a dream. Then, to be caught up in the U.S. Justice system with little understanding of the system, few resources, and little support and to find himself locked up in an Arizona prison, possibly for life, for a crime he did not commit.

Then there's Larry (yeah, not real) who I'm helping with an appeal on his case. Larry is an older guy (mid-50's) who was a civil engineer with a pretty nice life. He drunkenly exposed himself in proximity of a group of people. He signed a plea agreement with an expectation of 1.5 years of prison and a term of probation, the recommended sentence of pre-trial services. The judge, upon the recommendation of the prosecution, aggravated both counts to two years, to be run consecutively, to each be followed by lifetime probation, giving him four years and two lifetime probations. (This two lifetime probation is a common ploy in Arizona, as released felons were choosing to return to prison  to avoid the lifetime probation, to "kill their number".  It didn't really work, as many still do.) We're trying to get the sentence reduced, and to run concurrently, as the sentences are dependent on one single action. The aggravating factor was "harm to the victims".

Finally, I met Keoni (this is his real name – he wanted me to use it), who heard i was trying to start a peer counseling program here, due to the incredible lack of services offered for therapy or counseling. Keoni has been working with members of the Integral Theory and Integral Life Practice community.

Integral Theory, developed by Ken Wilber, "makes sense of how all the worlds' knowledge systems...fit together and can elevate our awareness  Drawing on science, psychology, human development, spirituality, religion, and dozens of other fields, Integral Theory is a frame work for understanding ourselves and the work we live in." For more information, visit www.integral-life-practice.com.)

Keoni has been studying and working on Integral practices for several years and was asked to write an article for The Journal of Integral Theory and Practice.  Cindy Lou Golin, a prominent member of the Integral community, received a grant to create an "Integral Inmate" peer education program in the hopes of creating a framework for personal growth for inmates, led by and for inmates, with the support of the Integral community.

Anyway, Keoni asked for "coaching" in his writing and has shared loads of interesting and powerful ideas, articles, and books so that I can better understand this concept.  Anything that increases my knowledge and elevates my state is of value to me.

So these are some of the ways I have given my life meaning and purpose in a difficult environment, along with the essays that I share with you.

A Personal Notice

I just want to provide a bit of intel to those of you who write to me.

Unfortunately for me, it's a pretty small number, but the quality makes up for the quantity! Thank you so much for writing, you cannot possibly fathom how much it means to me. Over the past few months, there have been a couple of instances of mail getting "lost" that I know of. So...if you ever write and DON'T hear from me within a few weeks, either your letter didn't get here or my reply didn't make it to you. I ALWAYS reply to every letter within two weeks, usually far less. Just so you know. To anyone else, I'm still here!

Letters still mean as much, if not more, than ever. You can get my address from the blog master or even write to me through this blog and I'll get it, eventually.

Also, to those who wrote such beautiful letters of support for my commutation of sentence: thank you, thank you, and thank you. Unfortunately, I was denied a Phase II hearing, so with that my last hope for any sort of early release has been extinguished. The criteria that they seemed to be looking for did not align with any research I had done, or really the application itself. As I could not be present at the hearing, and as no family or friends with in-depth knowledge of my case were able to be there, I didn't stand a chance. That doesn't diminish my appreciation for your support.

So, I'll be right here for a spell and I could use your support, communication, thoughts, and ideas more than ever. Feel free to let me know if there is anything you'd like to see in this blog.

Peace and loving kindness to you all.

Nectar for the Soul

While walking back from the phones today, I saw a hummingbird perched on the razor wire that tops the fence that divides our yard. It was joined by a second and they began flitting about each other in and around the razor wire. It lifted my spirits to see the hummingbird, the first I've seen in several years.

Then I began to wonder: would they make it out to the desert before using up all their energy by beating their wings so furiously? Would they make it to the sweet nectar that fuels their bodies and lies outside this desolate barren land surrounded by fences? I was concerned for the hummingbirds.

Then I thought, how similar to my own predicament. Will I make it out beyond these fences to some sweet nectar to fuel my spirit? My life force is ebbing away and this institution is sucking away my soul a little bit every day. How can I re-energize my spirit, my life force, my soul?

I suppose I must make do with the nectar of literature, or writing, of music, and of movies rather than the more nourishing nectar of authentic life experiences. I must be nourished, or at least satisfied with a simpler expectation of what constitutes a meaningful life experience.

For example, the other night at chow I was stuffing a bag of Lay's potato chips in my sock to enjoy later that evening (we've been getting cursory pat downs as we leave the chow hall recently.) As I looked around, I noticed another inmate at another table doing the exact same thing. We caught each other's eyes and we both began to laugh. It was a simple moment, outside the range of the life experiences to which I was once accustomed, but in that moment there was a connection and an acknowledgement of the absurdity that our lives have become.

It is these simple moments that can provide nectar for the soul, that make life worth living, and keep us going in spite of the obstacles placed in or paths.

Media Spin

One of the biggest obstacles to meaningful, pro-active reform of sex-offender legislation is the media's biased and selective portrayal of non-violent, non-contact sex offenders. A recent news story on KPHO Phoenix, a CBS affiliate, gives a clear example of this.

The "top story" on July 14^th was about the problem of homeless registered sex-offenders. There are some 239 registered sex-offenders in Phoenix without a residential address, so they are required to be at a specific street corner for certain hours each day.  Apparently this is not tracked all that well by the authorities.

The story cites the problems that have developed because of this system and lack of oversight, specifically naming two offenders who committed particularly heinous crimes toward young children.  One of these homeless sex offenders raped a young child in 2007.  In addition, the reporter interviewed a family that lives near one of the intersections assigned to a homeless sex offender. Needless to say, they were quite unhappy about the entire system.

This story omitted many significant facts that would have presented a more thorough and balanced picture of the situation. Instead, it focused on the most egregious examples of violent crimes and abuse. A more objective presentation of the story might have gone like this:

There are 239 registered sex-offenders in Phoenix who are homeless - unable to secure a permanent residence.  Housing options are limited for registered sex offenders, in that they can be denied housing at some homeless shelters or can be denied approval to live with family members or friends, even if their crime did not involve violence or sexual contact with a minor, as is the case for over 200 of the 239 listed. These non-violent, non-contact homeless offenders must abide by the same restrictions applied to violent offenders, though their compliance is not regularly monitored.

In spite of the difficulties of securing housing and employment, and the widespread discrimination against this segment of the population, there have been no serious incidents for over seven years. Research by the Department of Justice and other sources has shown that only 3% of sex-offenders are likely to re-offend - far fewer than any other class of felon except murderers, who are rarely released at all.

This approach to the story might elicit a more humane, realistic, and constructive debate about what is most certainly a significant issue. Biased, unrealistic reporting does nothing to further a discussion of solutions. 

Some sex offenders are dangerous predators, and society truly needs protection from them. All sex-offenders, however, do not belong in that same category. Many registered sex offenders are non-violent, non-contact offenders (having been convicted for possession of pornography, for example) who have made mistakes and are committed to atoning for those mistakes and to rebuilding their lives. An objective media portrayal of their struggles and a restorative (rather than retributive) justice approach to their reparations would do much to alleviate the homeless problem for the offenders, their families, the victims, and the whole of society.

Gestapo Tactics

Since arriving in prison, some 2 ½ years ago, I've been hearing horror stories about the Tactical Support Unit (TSU). They are the "special teams" who would come in if there's some kind of prison riot or other dangerous situation. On the yard they are referred to as the "Ninja Turtles" or "Storm Troopers". After an experience with them on our yard, I call them the Gestapo. Typically, prison stories tend to be highly exaggerated, but in the case of the Gestapo, they didn't come close to the reality.


Our yard was on "hard lockdown" for two days so that the Turtles could search each of the 32 runs on the yard. A hard lockdown means meals are brought to us and any essential movement is escorted by officers. As a worker on another yard, I usually get to miss out on such experiences, but a few weeks ago I was not so lucky.

The Storm Troopers struck quickly and entered the run in full force shouting out orders and expletives. "Alright you f*****s, down to boxers and t-shirts and line up with heads down. Anyone looking around will be going to the f*****g medic!" Scare tactics for sure, so I thought, then they grabbed a guy and dragged him off the run and outside. "Somebody always wants to be a f*****g hero!" I hadn't seen or heard the victim do anything. Another inmate who looked up so see what was happening was also dragged out with excessive force.

The rest of us were strip-searched and marched out to the Day Room. "Chin to chest, hands behind our backs." We were packed together cross-legged, hands behind our backs. On the floor near where I was sitting was an honest-to-god turd -- I assume from someone who had sat there before us and was either scared or just unable to hold it. We sat that way, on hard concrete, for about an hour. When people tried to shift their bodies due to discomfort, they were reproached forcefully.

I, myself, was literally sweating due to the pain, even though I regularly meditate in a similar position. It was agony. Finally, we were allowed back in and it looked like a hurricane had come through the run.

The real horror of the situation was not revealed until lockdown was over and we started communicating. Between 40 to 100 inmates had been treated for medical issues from the beatings in every run. The victims' transgressions were "looking around," "asking a question," or other imagined offenses. One man with a prosthetic leg was beaten for not moving quickly enough. An older man with a blood disease had severe bruising all over his body.

This was apparently far more extreme than anything that even long-timers had ever seen. Several of the "regular" corrections officers wrote up reports due to the excessive brutality. There is supposedly an investigation underway, but it is unlikely that anything significant will come of it. The administration has been issuing disciplinary tickets to inmates who have complained.

What's really incredible is that this happened on two consecutive days, so even after the administration learned what had transpired on Day 1, it happened again on Day 2.

I wonder what type of person can act in such a way. While not all of The Turtles were as aggressive, not one did or said anything to prevent the horrors. I think about how -- in Nazi Germany -- huge segments of the population committed horrible crimes while others allowed it to happen. This "follower" mentality is a terrible and powerful force. And we are considered the criminals! Nobody deserves such abuse.

Prison Art

These are pictures of birthday presents that I had made for my kid is last year.  My son is a big fan of the Harry Potter books, so I had a likeness of him contract is in a Harry potter quidditch scenario. 

My daughter is an avid scuba diver.

 

 

I sent my other son a likeness of himself playing bongos; I don't have a photo of it, nor do I know if he received it.

It's hard to make birthdays and other holiday special for your kids when you are in prison, but fortunately there are many talented and unique artists here who can help make this so.  The whole process is rather unique and different from going to a Wal-Mart for a gift.

Artists in prison are pretty inventive and creative.  There are, of course, talented sketchers and painters who do some amazing work.  I've seen some incredible origami and other similar art using cut strips of paper.  The most amazing, to me, are the sculptors - the MacGyvers of the prison art world.

These figures are sculpted out of bread.  That's right - the stuff you make sandwiches with.  The artist uses a secret process, combining the bread with glue, bagels, and other secret ingredients to make a workable, pliable, clay-like substance.  For reasons somewhat unclear to me, actual clay is contraband.  We are allowed paints, which is what is used to cover the figures, and then they are covered with a "homemade" shellac type substance, and are dried out for several days.

These gifts were not cheap, from a prison perspective.  I had to pay approximately one bag of rice, one bag of beans, three ramen soups, two granola bars, and a coffee for each of the images.  That translates to $10.00 in "outside" currency.  Bear in mind that I earn 40¢ per hour at work.

Shipping them is a whole other process.  I used a Pop-Tart box stuffed with newspaper and toilet paper wrapper.  That was covered with used Manila envelopes.  A process to be sure, but I've got the time and my kids are worth it.