Archive for May, 2010

does this make you want to read the book?

May 18, 2010

Preface

The Story of Catherine

            A friend suggested she write to a fellow named Robert. She decided to write to him as a friend. He wrote back. Their correspondence grew from polite conversation to deeper questions about life, love and family. Feelings of friendship led to stronger feelings of romantic attachment, until Catherine decided to visit Robert in person. Their face-to-face meeting confirmed their newfound feelings of love, and eventually, Robert and Catherine were married. There was only one difference between their story and many others. Robert was an inmate at a state prison. Their wedding took place inside the prison visiting room.

            Robert was not serving a life sentence, and he had not committed a crime of violence. He had a projected release date they looked forward to. At the age of 42, Robert was sentenced to 10 years on seven different counts of possession and selling of marijuana, hashish and other illegal substances. He had a problem with addiction to certain drugs, but he convinced Catherine that he had changed. Their envisioned future together never came to pass, however, since Robert contracted a lethal form of cancer while he was incarcerated.

            While his disease progressed, Catherine struggled to continue to visit her husband. His condition fostered no special treatment from the criminal justice system. She was allowed one hour of visitation every 14 days. Robert became progressively sicker and weaker. He one time collapsed upon entering the visitation room, which ended their visit that day. When he became so sick that he could no longer be wheeled to the visitation room, she walked all the way back through the prison, to visit him in his dormitory-style living area. Robert was not considered a dangerous criminal, so he lived in a minimum security area. Robert, in his wheelchair, was brought out into a hallway, where they sat for their visit as husband and wife.

            Catherine became frustrated with what, in her opinion, was inadequate medical care for her husband’s condition. When his blood pressure sky rocketed, he was sent to the local hospital, then returned to the prison with pain medication. Back in the prison, the pain medication prescription issued by the hospital often did not materialize. If the prescription was found, the prison medical personnel refused to give it to him, on the premise that he might become addicted to it. At this point, Robert was a dying man with a progressively painful disease. Catherine resolved to fight for him to receive his pain medication, and fight for him to be allowed to come home to die. Three times the Parole Board recommended he be released. Three times the state governor vetoed his release. So Catherine decided to sue.

            She filed a “Medical Indifference” lawsuit against the Department of Corrections and the individual doctors responsible for her husband’s care, and she continued to press for his release to spend the last of his days at home with his family. She asked hospital administrators if they would call her when he was brought in for the last time. They said they were only allowed to call her to claim the body. The wife of a dying prisoner is not allowed to spend the last hours of her husband’s life beside his bed in the hospital. Then she asked if the prison chaplain could be called in for his last hours, and was told that her husband would have to be aware enough to request the chaplain himself. Catherine won her medical indifference lawsuit regarding her husband’s inadequate medical care, but by the time she won it, he had already passed away.

            During a routine visit, Catherine noticed her husband’s facial color being unusually red. After arriving at home that night, the phone rang. It was the hospital administrator, who said, “If you want to see your husband alive, you’d better get here fast. He was just admitted.” Catherine called her lawyer, who called prison administration, who relented to allow Catherine to be with her husband. She also called the local newspaper and television station. She sat beside his bed for the last 10 hours of his life. It was to be their longest, and their last, visit together. She made a promise to her husband to try to help other families of prisoners in similar circumstances. One half hour after his death, the Governor issued her a note, “Robert is happy now.” She saw the note as insincere, inappropriate and unusually cruel.

            After her husband’s death, Catherine joined a support group for prisoner’s families. However, Catherine wanted to do more. She wanted to change legislation. She found another group and joined their national organization, but could not find a state chapter meeting regularly. At the encouragement of the national chapter president, she attended a regional meeting, where she was told the leader of her state chapter was resigning. They suggested she take over as state chapter leader. Catherine never considered herself an activist, but through her relationship with a prisoner, and a promise made to her dying husband, she now found herself the leader of an organization that would publically challenge or support legislation at the statehouse, foster public education and awareness of criminal justice issues, and fight for more humane treatment of inmates and their family members. She pursued contact with other community organizations. She invited them to her chapter meetings to tell the group about their activities. Then she would tell them about her group’s purpose. She fostered liaisons and coalition building. And she got things done.

            She and some of her colleagues sued the local county jail and sheriff for receiving $3.5 million dollars in kickbacks from a phone company, for contracting with that company to handle all calls from prisoners going out to their families. Inmates do not receive calls. Phone calls from a prisoner go from each prisoner to an approved recipient, who must accept the charges for those calls. Families of prisoners pay some of the highest phone rates of anyone in the country, and those family members never committed any crime. Catherine and her colleagues won their lawsuit. As a result, phone call costs for families of prisoners in Catherine’s state were reduced.  

            Catherine’s story is one of many family members of a prisoner interviewed for this book, who experience shock and dismay at the harshness of treatment of inmates and their families who come to visit their loved one. They do not deny their loved one’s committing of a crime. Neither do they expect him or her to be treated like an animal while incarcerated in our overcrowded, violence-ridden state and federal prison systems. Though having no personal history of community activism, they find themselves involved in groups working on various prison reforms. Many of them feel they are fighting for their own loved one’s survival. This book is the story of 46 such individuals, who are involved in six different grassroots prison reform groups in five states around the country.

oil spill unacceptable

May 18, 2010

The oil “spill” which is still spewing thousands of gallons of oil PER DAY into our beloved ocean and killing precious, irreplaceable wildlife, and shutting down fishing boat after fishing boat for perhaps even generations, is COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE and UNNECESSARY. I don’t care what the reason is, it is unacceptable.

If we set this up with even the POSSIBILITY of this happening, it is unacceptable. If people KNEW of the risks and went ahead with it, or as reported, knew of the risks and convinced others to bypass prevention efforts that would have saved us from this catastrophe, then they are responsible before God and should have their millions stripped away from them. Let them work in the fields or cleaning the highways in an orange jumpsuit for the rest of their lives, and then go to the next world and answer to God for what they did.

We can do better than this. We can demand better than this. We only have ONE Earth. When does she come first? When does greed come last? It is time that each one of us, in our personal lives and collectively, claim our identities are Guardians of the Earth. Put protection of her first. How would we then live? Would the millionaires make a little less money? Would we have to give up a little of our comfortable air conditioning? Would we be forced to look for clean alternatives to energy? All a plus. Fine with me. The time for excuses is overwith! We may be the last generation that has some choice in the matter. Burying our heads in the sand is no longer acceptable. The earth is changing, and precious resources among us today may all be gone tomorrow. Living, breathing resources. (Including ourselves, by the way.) We wouldn’t treat a dog the way we treat the Earth. She is beyond the point of suffering, and could be at the point of no return, or dying.

Certainly, the wildlife, shrimp, seafood and animals surrounding this gushing oil of thousands of gallons per day will be dying for generations to come, and they haven’t even figured out a way yet to stop the gushing!! Are you kidding me? There is no excuse in the world for this tragedy, and it lies on all of us.

On my walk today, I was amazed at the wildlife seen in such a short time. We live in a housing edition, houses close together, neighborhood association, the whole bit. Yet we are surrounded by woods, close to a lake, and have a large pond that sustains much life in itself, which empties in small amounts into a creek and the lake.

On my walk today, I saw a grey-blue, medium-sized heron fly back and forth across the pond from my disturbance. Numerous large turtles near the surface quickly scrambled away from my presence, diving to the murky depths below the pond surface. One had to quickly move over the top of a log before it could dive to safety. For once, I caught a glimpse of a large fish about as long as a yardstick. They usually stay further from the banks.

The normal gray squirrels scurry about in the grass. Not as many of them as we would see up north. A bunny rabbit coming toward me turned and jumped into the woods. Various birds singing, annoying little gnats sometimes in a cloud of flurry, a few dragonflies.

Back yards in my neighborhood serve basically one purpose: keeping the dog inside the fence. Almost everyone has a dog. Most have two. No one’s back yard is pretty, they are all a lot of rocks and dirt with some grass. No one waters their back yard, though many care for their front yards. Flowers are ALWAYS in bloom. It is currently summer. It’s been summer for a few weeks now, with mornings in the mid-60s but highs in the mid-80s. Soon it will be real mid-summer here, and air conditioning will run all day long. For now, we can open windows at night. Night-time, the toads come out and night songs of creatures unknown fill the air.

This little ec0-system here, completely ongoing and dependent upon one another’s presence, and we have the unconsciounable AUDACITY to pump oil into a much larger system without taking the necessary precautions, due to our insistent, insatiable GREED and impatience?? Absolutely horrific. We are the only ones with the capacity to protect the earth from ourselves. These creatures, and the ecosystem which WE TOO are dependent upon, is completely defenseless against us. We destroy ourselves.

new grandchild coming

May 15, 2010

We await the coming of a new grandchild. Baby Ruto no. 2 is due June 8th. We don’t think Leah will go to that date, but you never know. Best thing is to think of it as coming on that date & not get into expectation mode of it coming early.

We don’t know if it is boy or girl, as parents decided not to know until birth. It’s a hard thing not to find out, as these days they tell you from an early ultrasound. But it’s really good, because by the time the child is born, you don’t care which sex it is, as long as it’s here, and healthy. We would like a little girl, as she would be the first granddaughter, besides step daughters I rarely see, but we don’t really care.

Our family is close. We are close to all our grandkids, so it seems strange that here comes this new little one and we do not even know who he or she is. But they are already part of our family. Seems odd that he or she doesn’t know us, or know who all is waiting for him or her on the other side. But we’re all here, just waiting, and praying for all to go well. Leah has gestational diabetes so is somewhat a risk for complications, but she has been extremely strict on the diet, so there is no sign that anything will be out of normal range. We are hoping for a good, normal, natural birth, as that is what she wants. Just like last time. Hopefully not quite as fast as last time, but not too long either. I am 4 hours away, and may very well not make it in time for this birth, but will arrive soon after & be prayin’ all the way there.

Possible names are: Kahlil (boy), or Naylah pronounced “Nie-luh” (girl).

new walking route

May 15, 2010

I have a new walking route, which takes me 40 minutes. I think it’s about a mile & 1/2, but the cheap pedometer I bought is unreliable. Sometimes it counts and sometimes it doesn’t. It’s a good walk, and if I do it every day, sometimes twice/day, perhaps I may even lose some of this extra weight?

Last night I walked it rather late. It was dark when I finished, but there are lights around *most* of the pond and neighborhood. It feels incredibly, boring-ly safe here. The funny thing was, it was so late when I finished, there were little toads hopping all across my path. The night sounds are still so freaky to me, I’m not used to them. I love listening to them as I go to sleep. There is all kinds of night life around the pond that doesn’t come out during the day.

For 1/3 the way through May, we have daytime highs in the 80s, the magnolias are in bloom, the azaleas are done and gone. A 9am morning walk is still cool in the shade, hot in the sun. Dragonflies flit about, never landing on you, but there aren’t a lot of them yet. It has been very dense, or humid, so with a late evening walk, I come in sweating. This morning, I saw a little baby turtle about 3 inches across, who quickly swam under the mud and a rock in the pond to hide from me when it sensed my presence. The adult turtles here are coming out recently as well. They bob their heads above the water, are about 9-12 inches across, but as soon as they sense a human, dive down into the pond water.

writing my book

May 14, 2010

Every time I go back to my dissertation and start looking through it, two things happen:

1. I get excited all over again about the stories of the people I interviewed, and

2. I feel utterly overcome with exhaustion all over again.

Today I found some consent forms I had lost for a long time. I knew they were somewhere. But the possibility existed that they had been lost in a move. No, I saved everything. Found them in one of the many notebooks of papers and forms and articles sitting around from doing the dissertation. I am putting the articles I saved into notebooks, alphabetical by author. Papers exist that I never used, all over the place. Poetry people gave me, other various things.

Looking at the other books in the series a publisher wants to put mine in, they are somewhere just about 200pp. Each of their 8-9 chapters is 20 pages or so. I wrote a 400p. dissertation. I have NO idea how I am going to condense it to HALF. This is so hard, it really is such a terribly hard job.

Please God, help me get their stories out. Guide my pen, guide my clicking so I can cut out what is needed. I am afraid to take out things that should be left in. Have to remind myself, it is all still there, in the dissertation.

I think it is healthier to think of this job as an ongoing process. The important thing is to work at it systematically, every day. I didn’t write it in a day. It will not be revised in a day. My focus now is publishing. Just keep churning things out, doing the work, and hopefully, if God so wills, it will happen. I swear, if and when I get an actual publication, in print, I will throw a dang party.

hidden words no.40

May 12, 2010

( I love this one.)

40. O SON OF MAN!
Wert thou to speed through the immensity of space and traverse the expanse of heaven, yet thou wouldst find no rest save in submission to Our command and humbleness before Our Face.

 (Baha’u’llah, The Arabic Hidden Words)

walking

May 10, 2010

I got one of those pedometers that measures distance. The walk I like to walk at home is only 1/2 a mile long. That is not enough. I’ll have to add to it.

Walked with my 8-9 mo. pregnant daughter this weekend and knew again how out of shape I am. I just have to go out every day and gradually add to it. I’m also still dealing with plain exhaustion, at the end of the semester. Went back to sleep today and woke up at noon.

Saw two large turtles today in the pond. Went to the recycling center with our plastic, aluminum, newspaper and trash. And cooked dinner just now, chicken tenderloins with onions and red pepper, in a red pepper tomato soup sauce, baked potatoes and corn. So creative. My big accomplishments for the day.

dissertation to book

May 7, 2010

Lord help me, I started the process of revising my dissertation into a book. It is so painful to go back to revising, I can’t put it into words…. It’s just that old, familiar feeling of going forward on faith alone. Nothing else would drive me to do this. For the sake of getting my respondents’ stories out into the public, I truly hope I can write well enough to do this. I am smart enough to know my lack of academic ability and my mediocrity.

Three publishers have expressed interest. It’s a hot topic. So maybe, who knows, this will actually happen.

masculine images of owning a truck

May 7, 2010

My husband has a new truck. We needed a 2nd vehicle so we went $12,000. more into debt yesterday. He is very happy. The meaning of a truck to him, is a mixture of things. For one, it’s a guy thing to own a truck. What is the meaning behind that? I can take care of business, I can carry a heavy load, I can move big, heavy things, I have a vehicle that is bigger than yours. I can ride over rough terrain, like on the tv commercials? (rugged, outdoorsman image)

A woman can buy a truck and own a truck, but all the media messages appeal to men, & they are full of what it means to be masculine.

Second, we can move our own “stuff”. If we buy a desk, dresser, bed or dryer, we can load it up into our own vehicle and take it home. Self sufficiency, another male image.

Third, to my husband it means he has the freedom to start his own business again, whenever he would be so inclined. A truck can carry tools, electrical equipment, plumbing pipes and whatever else. A truck can get dirty. It’s not a “girly thing” that has to look pretty.

These images are really funny, how we are sold a line of advertising. In any case, I am glad we have 2 vehicles, and happy to have a truck. Just don’t expect me to ride home to visit family in Indiana, in the tight space called the back seat.

May 4

May 4, 2010

Incredibly, it is May 4th. Tomorrow morning, I turn in final grades.

Last night, I sent an article to a journal. I wonder if it will be published. I have publishing opps. popping up all OVER the place. However, I have such a bad history of things not getting published, that I’ve become quite cynical. All you need is a glitsy, glossy article with lots of tables and figures and p values and other statistics, and you might get published. What ever happened to talking face to face with another person, in depth, to really get into an issue from the inside out? It’s called: qualitative analysis! WHOA, what a concept. Sociology has gone the way of tables and figures, unless you happen to know someone who knows someone. Hmm, it seems the cynicism is taking over, so let me stop.

The semester is at an end. This academic year is at an end. I’ve completed my 2-year cycle of classes. It should be easier from here on out. My only problem is, I keep changing and rearranging courses to make them BETTER! Hah. So I end up creating new tests and new assignments, sometimes even changing a text book, putting in tons of more work for myself. What a silly person I am.

I really reached the exhaustion point at the end of this school year. There is change in the air on my college campus. I think a lot of athletes took my class hoping for an easy B, or even an A, and suddenly they realize they’re not making the grade they needed in order to play next year. So they freak out. There is a new A.D. and I think he is instituting new academic requirements. I’ve had a number of students freaking out at the end of this semester. It puts a lot of tension in the air. One person had a little temper tantrum when I wouldn’t take his extra credit after the final. My syllabus states, and all semester I had been repeating, last day for extra credits or assignments of any kind = last day of classes. So he had a little hissy fit and crumpled up his paper and threw it angrily into the wastebasket before walking out. A couple of other students did similar things. Two of them needed a B and are getting a C. One guy plagiarized his paper and then announced he was still going to get an A in my class. He got a zero on his paper. Plagiarism is a serious offence. I don’t think he quite got that. It just amazes me, it really does. It amazes me when people don’t turn in a final paper, when they don’t even come to the final. What an announcement of “I don’t care!” What are they doing, REALLY?? This is COLLEGE!! I don’t get it.

Others wrote very nice notes to me about how I was their mentor. Some wrote very nice things about what they learned about gender in my sociology of gender course, which I had doubts about. It was the first time I had taught that.

I was on USC campus today. There was excellent, free, quality WIFI in any building. I sat in the “Nanotechnology” building waiting for AL in a meeting and surfed the ‘Net. Professors, students, all were walking around. Asian students, who I never see outside of Columbia. The library had a huge reflecting pool out in front of it, with a fountain. Inside the library was so beautiful, spacious, computers everywhere, printers all over the place! It was SOOOOO NIIICE!! I’ve MISSED so much, that kind of quality place. Wow. I can’t even get my office cleaned or painted. It is scuzzy. It was trashed when I arrived. Trashed. Nobody even checked to clean it out. It is dirty, no one ever takes a broom to the floor, let alone….. a MOP?!  I’ve learned, from many conversations, that people literally eventually PAINT their own offices!! You can’t get an office painted where I’m at. Mine was painted by my predecessor, probably 15 years ago. It is a dirty, medium murky blue. AWFUL. The air conditioner spits out puky, lukewarm air and shuts off automatically after 6 or 7pm. (Everyone should be HOME at that hour. Heaven forbid someone wants to work in the evening.) ……… I’m going to stop now. I really am tired this school year. Yes, I need my summer off.