Friday with Corey
I've looked at other websites of either inmates, or family members, who write blogs that include the prison experience and I notice many will often title the days entry with either the number of days served or the visit number since incarceration...and I wish I had thought to do something like that... at least for those days I posted regarding a visit to our son. But when I started this blog it was to have as a diary of sorts of our years in California...my memory not being what it used to be, and not getting any better (!) this seemed a good way to chronicle the journey. I haven't written much about those visits with Corey, the details of a few are secreted away in certain posts here and there over the years however.
I suppose initially the length of my sons sentence seemed so terribly long, so very far away till his release, that doing so, back when I first started to blog, with so many years stretching out ahead of him, was something I preferred not to think on too often. Just live it one day at a time, don't look back, don't look too far ahead. A new friend has kept a jar of jelly beans, one for everyday of her husbands sentence, and in eating one every day she has been able to visualize the days to his release, which come closer every day. What a great idea.
However, I just did the math, and see to my astonishment, my visits to Corey now number somewhere in the 400's, give or take a few "free" days tossed in for Holidays...that number would include the twice weekly, visits at the adjacent Low Security prison he was at for the first 3 years, and once a week since being moved to this camp. When he was housed for the full year in Spokane County's jail we were allowed 2 one-hour visits a week which adds another 100 or so "facility visits".
And then there are the letters, so many letters, close to 2000 of them, I keep boxed and labeled. On average I write my son 5 times a week... over the 5 years Corey has been interred at Taft C.I....it's become a "diary"' of sorts of our lives, his and ours, throughout this experience. Mostly it was to bring our lives into Coreys world, share with him the mundane and the everyday nature of them. I hated the thought of the years passing and his feeling he'd not "been there"...in some way they create "memories", that he had indeed participated. I often think I'll one day read them all again, and put into some type of manuscript, but on second thought, THAT is daunting. A good friend of mine is in the process of turning her and her husbands letters, from over the many years of his encarceration, into a book to be published. She is a wonderful writer, so very articulate, and their story, their love story,their journey together, so beautiful and encouraging, is something I look forward to reading one day.
Todays visit was a lot of fun. We laughed at foibles one or more of us had committed, or experienced that week, shared funny and not so funny stories, argued some politics, talked about movies and books, and as always, inevitably, spent some time discussing the future (always fun to do, Corey has so many ideas regarding the path forward upon release, even knowing the many roadblocks, hurdles that will be placed in his way throughout the 5 years he will "serve" on probation). I remember the Judge making it very clear to him, as he gave instruction re the Sentence and then the 5 year "Supervised Release" part that would follow upon release, what he was clear to describe as our sons "second, consecutive sentence". As if the first 12 1/2 year sentence, for a first time, non-violent marijuana offender wasn't long enough! Anyways, it was another lovely day we shared together at the camp friday.
I was pleased to see, upon arrival, they have finally done away with "assigning" seating to visitors. A few years ago when Corey was first transferred to this Camp, it being a "minimum security" facilty, many regulations were much more relaxed than at the previous Low Security facility he'd been housed at. This included many rules regarding visitation...at the Low Security Prison, besides the long, drawnout process of just getting to the visitation hall, once there we were always assigned a seat... but not so at Taft Camp, here we could pick any table and take a seat. Even this one simple privilege added to all our sense of a loosening of the "leash" on our freedoms, allowed us to exhale just a little bit more. Unfortunately a few months back a few inmates were taking advantage of the more relaxed attitude and rules in the Camp visitation room, and that was met with new rules from the Administration that punished everyone for their actions. Happily some time has passed, and the more relaxed rules are now back in place, along with some other improvements :). One of these being, a few weeks back now, a new beverage vending machine! THAT was exciting to many of us, finally, a few selections other than sugar laden sodas or water. Now we can choose from a variety of juices and vitamin waters in addition to the large soda selection. We've heard rumors that a coffee machine will soon be installed as well. Dare one hope? Perhaps these new "out of the box" ideas and implementations will also lead to more healthful food items in the machines that sell packaged, overly processed burgers, pizzas, the ever present burritos and chicken wings! For a few months we had seen a few Kosher selections, these were healthier but for many the prices inhibitive. Example - $9 for a simple sandwich...two slices of wheat bread and a few slices of meat.
Hope is patience with the lamp lit. ~Tertullian
I'm feeling so stifled. Its at those times I become a woman possessed, and undertake a virtual whirlwind of cleaning and organizing activities, working my way room to room, critically analyzing and deciding what will go and what can stay. Once my task is accomplished, the counters clear and the culprits neatly back where they belong, or stored in boxes for Goodwill or to be pulled out, and re-examined another day, perhaps to take the place of another object I've grown tired of, I feel a sense of peace settle over me. 
I'm feeling so stifled. Its at those times I become a woman possessed, and undertake a virtual whirlwind of cleaning and organizing activities, working my way room to room, critically analyzing and deciding what will go and what can stay. Once my task is accomplished, the counters clear and the culprits neatly back where they belong, or stored in boxes for Goodwill or to be pulled out, and re-examined another day, perhaps to take the place of another object I've grown tired of, I feel a sense of peace settle over me. 
