HAPPY BIRTH DAY BABY NAIYAH!

Welcome to the world little sweetie! My 3rd grandchild, and what a wonderful beginning to the last year of this long journey in California. A true blessing!

“newborns reminded her of tiny buddhas” ― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes

ANTS ANTS ANTS!!!

Last week I had been noticing some of the itty bitty ants that are so common to our area, milling about my kitchen floor, just an occasional one or two on the floor and counters. I assumed ‘scouting’ for food and supplies. In the past, on a few occasions over the last three years we’ve been in this house, I would open a cabinet in the kitchen to see a long trail of them leading to some sweet item they had come across that they could access…last summer it was a jar of peanut butter whose lid was not fully closed, other times its been honey, or cookie crumbs. In those events they report back and the hoards descend en masse. Rod generally pulled out the can of Raid or some other chemical mixture and hastily made short work of them. I also come across long trails of them out in the flower garden, along the curbing, and sometimes when pulling weeds in the beds will unearth gazillions of them! They seem part and parcel to the area.

By the evening of the day I’d see the little pests milling about in my kitchen last week, Rod called to me from the bedroom as I had just sunk into my comfy bed with my book, set on an hour or so of relaxing before sleep would overtake me. Before I could respond he appears at the bedroom door with a worrisome look on his face and says “you’d better come out here” rather ominously. I immediately thought “OMG, what is it???” And sure enough, all along my kitchen island were masses of ants! Where they were coming in from the outside (aside from a small crack underneath the kitchen island ledge) and what they had found (because there was no particular destination point that we could see) was anyones guess.

Well the last time we’d been invaded with the pesky pests, and swiftly but toxically dealt with them, I’d decided there MUST be a more environmentally safe method to rid oneself of these critters, and had done some googling. One of the methods I’d come across on some site suggested a syrupy mixture of sugar, borax and water that one puts in their path, which they apparently LUV, eat it and die. It seems that when ingested by ants and other pests, this poison (borax) ruins the digestive system which leads to starvation and their demise. The process takes anywhere from 12 to 48 hours. The ants consider the mixture food (you can put it out dry or in a syrup with water) and foragers will take it back and feed it to members of the colony, including the queen. When the queen dies, so does the rest of the clan. Sounded good to me!

And so, much to my husbands chagrin (his primitive, manly instincts of kill or be killed having kicked in), he of course having by then grabbed the giant can of RAID from the garage, intent on instantly wiping out the attackers of our home and harmony, I set about talking him down, insisting on giving my newfound, non-toxic (well, to US that is!) method a chance. To just give it overnite. And so I made up the syrup and laid it out in small bottle lids and shallow containers. I keep Borax on hand at all times, using it in natural cleaning products and my own laundry detergent I whip up. These homemade products costs pennies per use, no unnatural scents or other toxins, and they cleans beautifully, so I was thrilled when I’d come across a pesticide that utilized the natural mineral. Besides, sweet childhood memories of Twenty mule-team Borax commercials sweep over me whenever I reach for the box in my pantry.

Well I hung around to witness what would happen next. Within seconds the ants were finding the containers and pools of syrup that I had poured directly onto the counter, along with a few cotton balls I’d soaked in it, and were literally gorging themselves on it. They clearly loved the stuff, so much so that the greedy little critters weren’t leaving the trough at all! Many in fact were crawling on top of, and over their buddies, to get to it, and once there just started virtually ‘inhaling’ it! These guys were hungry! Within minutes many were not moving at all! Either too fat and bloated to move or, well, dead! And so the layers of them started to build up, especially in the containers, with some floating facedown (well, I surmise, I couldn’t see that close up) in the syrup even, heck, there would be 30, 50, 100 ants in the small lids.

After an hour maybe it appeared to me some of the dead (?) ants were being picking up and carrying off by other ants. Who knew ants were little Marines at heart…no ant left behind! Well by then it was getting late, and clearly this was going to take a while, so I retired to bed, wondering would I awake to a kitchen completely overcome by ants, or would they indeed be gone. A little anxiety provoking to say the least, not sure how I managed to fall asleep that night, but I did.

Well knock me down with a feather (!), to my utter shock when I came out to the kitchen the next morning they were ALL gone! Well all but a very few still floating (facedown?) in the containers. But not a moving ant in sight, and no more coming in or going out the crack underneath the counter.

Its been a full week now, and not an ant has been seen. Not a one. So I’m hoping the entire colony was wiped out and shan’t be returning. I’m not so naïve as to think there aren't many, probably thousands, of other colony’s outside or even under the house (!), I just hope they aren’t plotting OUR demise in retaliation! I discovered in my search for ‘the cure’ many in our area, and California generally, who said this was just part and parcel of living in these climes. But I’ll be ready next time, and its good to know we have a less toxic (well again, to us!) elimination method.

Here is the recipe for the syrup that works so well:

½ cup sugar
1 ½ Tbsp Borax powder
1 ½ cups warm water
Cotton balls, paper towel, or small shallow jar or bottle lids
Mix the borax, sugar and water together till completely dissolved. Seal it in a jar for future use, and use only what you need in the next steps. Clearly label the jar however, as it will look just like water and should be kept out of the reach of children.

Fill the jar lids, soak the cotton balls, etc, and lay out in the ants path. Now wait. It may take a little while for the ants to all find the solution, but once they do they will feast and take the solution back to the colony. More ants will undoubtedly continue to show up once they find the solution and report back. But within hours, or overnite you’ll see less and less ants until they are all gone. In my case it took overnite, about 8 hrs, though at what point during the night they were all gone is anyones guess. This solution can also be used as a dry mix, without the water, I put out some of both, but it was the syrup they clearly preferred.

Other remedies I came across and have compiled for a time the syrup may not work so well are these:

Cinnamon – does not kill the ants but will prevent them from coming in and will make them go away. They don’t like cinnamon.

Black pepper – non-lethal, non-poisonous, cheap method to get rid of ants. Sprinkle where you see them congregating and watch them scatter. Follow to where they are coming in and sprinkle more pepper at this spot to keep them out. Good to use on window ledges, in cabinets, around any food.

Apple Cider Vinegar – mix half water and half vinegar and pour into a spray bottle. Spray counters or any surface with the solution. A chemical in this vinegar alters the ants scent and they will avoid it.

“Two-legged creatures we are supposed to love as we love ourselves. The four-legged, also, can come to seem pretty important. But six legs are too many from the human standpoint.” ~ Joseph W. Krutch

Valley Fever

I recently came across an article about a former Taft Prison inmate who, last summer, successfully settled a lawsuit against Taft C.I. According to the articles, & there were several published last August, , Arjang Panah in 2005 had sued the U. S. Government for not taking reasonable steps to prevent him from contracting Valley Fever, an incurable disease, that was prevalent to the area the prison is situated in. Ultimately his lawyers settled the case for $425K, after having sued for several million dollars. Panah was sueing the Govt for failing to provide a safe living environment in its prison, in that it knowingly placed prisoners in an area known as a hotbed for the deadly fungus that causes the disease. Panah alleged in his lawsuit that the federal government failed to provide the private contractor that operates the prison with a facility that gives inmates safe air to breathe, guidance on how to prevent dust inhalation, or adequate equipment and resources to reduce the disease-bearing dust. In the end the Govt settled, without admitting guilt, no doubt not wanting to deal with the media fallout, hoping to just brush it all under the rug.

One article stated “According to a declaration filed by attorney Ian Wallach, the CDC (Center for Disease Control) was asked to evaluate and make recommendations for the treatment of 88 inmates who had been diagnosed with Valley Fever in 2003 and 2004 at the Taft prison" (a year before Corey would be sent to this facility). "However, no measures were implemented that could have prevented inmates from being infected. Panah fell ill shortly after being transferred to Taft, his illness is presently incurable."

As I read the various articles I found related to the settled lawsuit it brought back to me the immense feelings of relief I’d experienced when Corey was finally, after having spent 8 yrs in Taft, transferred to the Lompoc prison camp last May. All 8 of those years we’ve lived with knowing the risk he faced, stuck out there in a prison built on and surrounded by dirt and sand containing the fungal spores that when breathed in adhere to the linings of ones lungs, resulting in infections that pose a deadly threat. I’ve read darker skinner individuals are more susceptible, blacks, Hispanics, etc, but I know firsthand anyone can contract it. As I myself did!! Being blonde and blue eyed (well, maybe more green than blue) and of Scottish, Ukrainian descent, I hadn’t been living in Taft longer than 5 months when I awoke one nite in such incredible pain I felt someone had taken a baseball bat to me!!! I could hardly take a breath, it hurt so badly just to breathe, it hurt to move any part of my body PERIOD! An excellent pulmonary specialist in Bakersfield diagnosed me with Coccidioidomycosis, commonly known as Valley Fever, the very next day. He immediately put me on anti fungal meds, super dosages, and at that, it took me several months to get over the disease. During that time I had absolutely no energy, I was very lethargic and depressed. I ached everywhere. I never left the house. Eventually I healed and have, thankfully, had no recurrences, though my doctor, the wonderful Dr Allam, Pulmonary Specialist, recommends I get a blood test every year or two to check for the fungi. It CAN resurge at any time, in particular should I ever get an autoimmune disease. It apparently will always live within me. I imagine I had breathed in the spores during one of the windy days at Taft, perhaps even as I waited my turn outside the Camps Visitation building on one of those windy days, or mayhap simply digging in my own small flower garden, thus disturbing the spores.

Having heard about the level of medical care at most prisons, the protocols that must be followed, I lived with the dread of knowing what my son would have to suffer in addition to the disease's painful symptoms. Its not that easy to get good care in a prison, and the only OTC meds available on commissary are aspirin and if lucky, ibuprofen. One starts with getting up super early to go stand in line for what can be hours, at sick bay, then first seeing only a nurse for a percursary diagnoses, being told to come back in a week if one didn't feel better, and only then, maybe, being able to see an actual doctor for a proper diagnoses, and hopefully getting a slightly stronger med to ease ones symptoms...all the while, if it should be Valley Fever, suffering terribly as I had been. And even then,IF one is properly diagnosed, the level of care in most cases is often substandard at best.

One of my greatest fears in my son's serving his lengthy sentence, was the greater the chance he would at some time get seriously ill. How much more he would suffer in such circumstances and with substandard care, and would I ultimately lose him. That fear has harbored within me for so long, the possibility that my son would never walk out of prison, that should he contract such a disease his 12 1/2 yr sentence for selling marijauna could become a death sentence. The fear lessened as each year passed, I supposed mostly I just 'adjusted' to it more than anything, and as we got closer to his release (now 'just' 9 months away) pretty much eased as I could see the end of the road lay just ahead.

I won't forget all the times he DID get sick, with the seasonal colds and flu that would besiege the place, as you can imagine, with so many men living in crowded conditions there is little hope ever of avoiding the latest outbreak of whatever the virus de jour is. With no cough syrups, decongestants, nothing much to ease the symptoms one suffers with, Corey would nurse himself back to health, just drinking lots of tea, and resting whenever he could. Those times he'd get really sick, a good buddy would be there to make and serve him soups or broths, keep an eye on him. I can still recall the feelings of incredible gratitude I would feel for the man or men that would come to his aid, knowing Corey would at some time be doing the very same for another.

As I read the articles in the news about the lawsuit, in particular those whereby the Taft Prison HAD stated they’d taken strong precautions to keep the prisoners safe from contracting the spores, I couldn’t help but recall as recently as the summer of 2011, evidence to the contrary. I had been visiting Corey at the Taft Camp and was appalled to see out the window, in the back of the visitation Building, which was actually the front yard of the Units the prisoners reside in, where once there had been a nice green lawn, the grass was being rototilled up, dug up, and removed! Clouds of dust and dirt filled the air! I asked my son what on earth was going on, immediately concerned with how this would disturb any fungal spores in the earth and saturate the very air with them! The prison was virtually removing all grass and lawn areas, except what was visible in the front of the buildings, I could only surmise in an effort to further cut costs (water bills?) and grow their profits? Why else? It was patently clear the threat, the risk of Valley Fever, was of no concern to this facility at all.

I expect now, after having had to pay out $425K in settlement costs the prison will find they made a very poor decision. I imagine this will not be the last lawsuit they are hit with.

I found this particular post in my saved Drafts. I had written in the fall of 2011, and saved it, clearly I must have intended to add or edit it prior to publishing it and then forgot all about it. In coming across it by accident today, I decided to go ahead and post it, as it was a subject that often I thought on and pondered as I viewed prison relationships from afar, and more personally, such as in my sons personal life.

PRISON RELATIONSHIPS

Towards the end of July a wonderful friend from San Diego spent her husbands last nite in Taft Prison at our house, with Rod and I. We sat around our dining room table, drinking wine and eating delicious butter chicken and naan, and talked long into the night. Well not "long into...", by 10, and it being a weeknight, and Susies need for an early departure the next morning, we all meandered sleepily off to bed. I sincerely doubt Susie got much sleep that night. Soon their lives will expand and not be overshadowed by the all consuming prison experience. I long for that time.

Susie and Ron had been awaiting and counting down the days to this most important date for the past year, and all but the last week, and especially last few days, had seemingly passed quickly "enough"...or so she would tell me on occasion. Her husbands sentence was short in comparison to our sons, but the stress and life changing journey was no less difficult.

I got to know Susie in the visitation room at Taft, seeing her there on a regular, every friday basis, when I'd be visiting Corey. In Susie's case another friend actually made our introduction,I believe it was late last summer, and we've been friends ever since. Its fairly easy to find and make a new friend with common ground and interests in the prison visitation rooms if one is inclined ...this group of reluctant participants, all of us on the same path leading to one destination...release, freedom, and "normalcy"...if such a thing exists after this. And in the meantime we are all there on the same mission, the determination to keep the family unit strong. Some succeed extremely well, others, especially those with the longest sentences to serve, do not always fare so well. I always find it so sad, and my own heart breaks a little, when after seeing a particular visitor on a regular basis, such as a wife or girlfriend, and witnessing the happy reunions, tinged with a certain desperation, "she" suddenly is not to be seen again. This last, and more times than not, inevitable loss to the inmate, caused by or for whatever reason, is the final and hardest adjustment the inmate will make. As many men will say, "dream time is over". This same statement is made when an inmates last and final court appeal has been exhausted. No surprise the two are analogous.

My sons relationship with his fiancee was one that didn't survive, having been engaged just a few weeks prior to his arrest. His fiancee was daunted by the length of the sentence, she was young, and the separation and fear of all those years alone more than she could, would be able to, handle. She tried, on and off over the years, but the "trying" was more painful than not, the roller coaster ride exhausting and excruciating for my son, as he would watch her come and go, come and go...never losing hope, but hardly daring to hope. Each time she'd leave the visiting room he'd be wondering if that would be the last he'd see of her. Eventually statistics won over, it ran its course to an inevitable conclusion.

I have witnessed other relationships that have not only survived, but thrived, however, in the prison environment. Yes, there are many success stories and they are heartwarming. If a couple can survive this, they can likely survive anything, weather any future storms. Early on I came to the understanding, the conclusion, that for that to happen both partners had to be fully engaged and committed to sharing the journey. Only in this way could they prevent the prison industry from driving them apart. Without this often unspoken, but understood end game, there would be little chance. Living alone and apart, building and balancing two lives in separate realities, as the years passed to release, was to be embraced, had to be preferable to being with anyone else. If it sounds "romantic" in any way, it is not. Its hard, its long drawn out longing, for the prisoner and those that wait for him.

I suppose what I also came to realize, upon witnessing the struggle and ultimate demise of my sons relationship, and that of others, was how 'easy' it seems everything must be in todays busy world, for relationships to succeed. I can't help but think back to the days our men went off to wars, were gone years and sometimes decades, yet would return to an intact family unit, the wives having kept the home fires burning, with ALL that entailed (!), and the relationship with their loved one still strong,loving and devoted. All they had to hang onto, through all the years of separation, was their love, their committment, their devoted efforts to keeping the relationship alive until they would hopefully be reunited, was their dedicated letter writing. Sometimes those letters could take months, years, to be received, if at all. I like to think that many, maybe even most, who were forced to endure these separations, were rewarded in the end, built a stronger, more loving relationship through the committment in part of putting pen to paper. Time consuming outpourings of ones love, the sharing of each others lives all put to paper, using only candle light and quill pens, or even parchment paper and carbon, depending on how far back you wish to look, to keep the relationship alive. Seems those days are as long gone as are travel by horse and buggy, in todays 'modern times' if it isnt fast and easy, if contact can't be sent and a response returned quickly, as in a tweet, a text message, or an email few seem inclined to invest in something that requires actual 'effort'. Forget the effort of manually putting pen to paper, buying a stamp and posting an actual letter (!) in the mail. How much SO much has changed, in just one generations time. What on earth awaits us as we are propelled at lightening speed into an even more modern future. What hope is there for long term relationships, for the family unit, in such a future world?

A Watershed Moment in the War Against the War on Drugs

Posted: 01/08/2013 12:11 pm The Huff Post Politics.

I seem to be on a roll this morning, bear with me. This is a subject near and close to my heart. I wanted to republish it in whole, rather than just link it, to make it easy for anyone who 'happens' across this mornings posting, to read it and rethink or even just question their personal views/stance on blanket encarceration as fitting "punishment" for every possible scenario, which IS the Govts only "solution", to America's drug problem. The fact that drugs and drug violence is more prevalent than EVER, proves the "cure" is more dangerous and destructive than the disease.

Jason Floms, the author of the piece below, is, in addition to being President of Lava Records, an outspoken advocate for overall reform of our criminal-justice system. He serves on the boards of several organizations fighting for the cause, including Families Against Mandatory Minimums, The Drug Policy Alliance, The Legal Action Center, and The Innocence Project.

The Article:
If you can't control drug use in a maximum security prison, how could you control drugs in a free society?" That question, posed by former New York prisoner Tony Papa in Breaking the Taboo, a new film about the global drug war, hit me like a ton of bricks. His simple question captured what I believe is the terminal stupidity of our government's 40-year War on Drugs.

Papa was sentenced to a 15-to-life sentence for simply passing an envelope containing four ounces of cocaine in exchange for $500 -- his first and only offense. Were his case an anomaly, perhaps only his family would care. But there are roughly 500,000 people locked up in cages today because of the drug war. Many are nonviolent, first offenders and suffer from addiction, but our government's sledgehammer approach does not consider such distinctions relevant. Everyone goes to jail -- and we pay billions to keep them there.

I do not use drugs myself, but I have long believed that people should be free to eat, drink, or ingest whatever they want so long as they do not get behind the wheel or do anything else that can endanger others. To me, it's simply a matter of personal freedom. Our government's view has been the exact opposite. During the long-running drug war, our laws have not merely eliminated an individual's freedom to use drugs, they've punished users with years of total deprivation of liberty, i.e., incarceration.

The failure of the Drug War is both clear and tragic. The United States is home to just five percent of the world's population but fully 25 percent of the world's prison population. As former U.S. Senator Jim Webb told me a couple of years ago, "What these numbers would seem to indicate is that either we have the most evil people in the world or else we are doing something very wrong." Clearly we are doing something wrong. We lock up our citizens at five times the rate of the rest of the world even though our crime rates are similar. This mass incarceration epidemic has torn apart countless families, and its impact has been disproportionately severe on minorities, a reality that should offend anyone who cares about civil rights.

I decided a couple of decades ago that I had to get involved. I began working with some of our nation's leading criminal justice reform groups to end the drug war. During this time, I also supported dozens of successful federal and state clemency applications, including that of celebrated musician and composer John Forte. After 20 years of slow progress, I believe we have arrived at a watershed moment.

The moment began last November when the residents of both Colorado and Washington State voted to legalize recreational use of marijuana among adults. For years, drug war proponents dismissed those of us fighting for sensible drug laws as a vocal and permanent minority. No longer. Majorities in both states proved that the American people are tired of failed drug war policies and ready to try a new approach.

We must seize this moment. I'm writing in the hope that you will join me and other industry figures such as Richard Branson, Russell Simmons, Sting, John Legend and Willie Nelson in supporting this cause. We recognize that many of our industry's greatest stars and executives have been involved with drugs, especially in their youth, and could have been sent to prison for 15 years (or longer) like Tony Papa. What would our business look like today had we been deprived of these creative geniuses?

We know that the War on Drugs has failed. Drugs are cheaper and more readily available than they were when this misguided war started some 30 years ago. Even staunch law enforcement allies, such as former federal prosecutor and current Republican governor of New Jersey, Chris Christie, have declared the War on Drugs a failure and proposed more cost-effective and humane ways to reduce drug abuse and crime.

Leaders in other nations have also demonstrated that different approaches can work. In Portugal, for example, policymakers found that decriminalizing small amounts of drugs for personal use resulted in a reduced demand for illicit drugs, fewer arrests, and fewer prisoners. It has been such a successful model for more than a decade that other countries in Europe and Latin America have begun to follow in Portugal's footsteps.
The time has arrived for the American public to demand bold drug reform. If federal and state lawmakers do not listen, the voters should take the matter in their own hands, as the residents of Washington and Colorado recently did.

Ready to get involved? Contact Families Against Mandatory Minimums or The Drug Policy Alliance today. The time is now. Let's get to work.

"No one is free when others are oppressed." ~Author Unknown

Barack the Unmerciful

Barack the Unmerciful
Obama's amazingly stingy clemency record (by Jacob Sullum | January 9, 2013)

I have read of Obamas seeming lack of interest and/or compassion when it comes to clemency, especially in light of the many statements he's made in the past about second chances and the failure of the 'drug war'. The article whose link appears below is well written, and the author as baffled by the Presidents record as am I.


Barack the Unmerciful

PRISON DREAMS - AGAIN

Rod and I are spending a few days here in Dana Point, a beautiful community south of Laguna Beach where we have good friends. Though this is a 'work' trip for Rod, I opted to come along for the ride, keep him company in his 'down time', & spend time exploring this lovely Cali destination hot spot as the occasion presents itself. I am happy to be here, ensconced in a lovely room at the Dana Point Harbor Inn, surrounded by the marina, gorgeous warm, sunny skies, every nature of boat and fun, interesting boutiques and wonderful restaurents to suit anyones tastes.

Last nite after a delicious light dinner of Lobster Bisque, salad and calamari AT Harpoon Henry's, here in the Marina, we decided to take in a movie. Because it was conveniently starting within minutes of our arriving at the Cineplex, we decided to see Quenton Tarantino's Django Unchained, with Jamie Fox. It had been one of our "must see" flicks , along with Les Miserables and a few others, and as my husband lives and breathes for Westerns, it was the perfect choice. It was an interesting movie, there were moments I had to cover my eyes not wishing to view the disturbing brutality of some scenes, and the feelings of disgust and dismay witnessing yet another depiction of this nations lawful yet immoral engagement in such human suffering. Perhaps it was the after affects, subconscious, that spurred my dream last nite.

My dream - I was visiting Corey in prison. It wasn't in a visitation room, not anything remotely familiar or like any place I have ever visited him on this journey. We were in some sort of cell, and I was sitting next to him on a plain wooden bench, with other inmates around us, sitting on benches or the floor. I became aware there was something wrong with Coreys face. i slide closer to my son and spoke his name, he turned slightly away from me...i placed my hands on his face and turned it towards me...his face was covered in bruises and gashes. I gasped as I took in the condition of his right eye, the one closest to me, it was covered with some type of plastic covering, secured with tape bandages. With horror I realized he had lost his eye! I gasped "oh my God!" I knew then he'd been attacked, been beaten, and had forever lost his eye. In an instant I felt his pain and even shame and how i knew he would be believing this would affect his life going forward. I said to him that he'd get a prosthetic eye, no one would ever be able to tell, he'd be as handsome as he ever was...my son grabbed me, in this dream, and hugged me so hard. I felt his gratitude at my having said what he needed to hear ...or maybe it was simply that I was there to share his pain and that alone gave comfort...all I know is the intense emotions caused me to call out something and awaken abruptly with the tears streaming down my face.

I instantly got out of my hotel bed, wanting to shake the images and the pain of the disconcerting dream.

Over these years I've had so, so many such dreams, my "prison dreams"...though very few though, thankfully, that depicted violence. All made manifest no doubt because of my constant and underlying fears for my sons safety or his health, physical and emotional, that I try not to think about while awake. Funny how if its "in there" it will manifest as with a will of its own. We will be made to deal with it one way or another, eventually.

Rod and I (and of course our son) count ourselves as fortunate that despite the long years of his confinement Corey has never had to confront, first hand, violence upon his person. Early on in all this, the fears he might have had himself had lived within me, first in the county lockup, even more volatile than the prison he would go to, or in the FCC he served his first 3 yrs in prior to being transferred to the minimum security camp. Hearing/reading of the violence in the county jail, and recalling various episodes of tv shows depicting prison life, I can still remember scouring the internet those first early months of Corey's internment in Spokane's jail, after having been told a prison term (though we knew not at that time how long that would be) was assured. I can vividly still remember those long late nights in the bedroom of the apartment Rod and I had rented for the duration of the years prosecution, sitting at my laptop, seeking out information on self defense and survival, when one had nothing but his wits and personal body strength as weapons. I would print and send Corey pictorals, with instructions, on whatever I would find, trying to make light of it, yet somehow feeling this intense need to prepare him as much as I could, to survive. I had taken karate classes myself many years ago, and with the heightened ability to protect myself, even if in some small way, I know I affected a greater self confidence. I also had printed out and mailed to Corey everything I could find on what to expect once arriving at prison, I sought out sites like Prison Talk Online, I asked questions, got answers, I believe knowledge is power. I'm sure Corey learned all he needed to know from first hand experience, as he needed it, but I still encourage anyone starting out on this journey to prepare for it as much as possible. In whatever way that will give some relief and some comfort.

An advantage my son had was his large physical presence. He was/is 6 ft, 5 inches tall, and weighed in at 260 lbs when he was arrested. To begin with he was not someone who would stand out as being vulnerable, so that somewhat lessened my fears. Corey learned early on the inmates unwritten rules, mind your own business, do your own time. He is by nature outgoing, funny, intelligent and very witty, compassionate and kind, yet strong and protective of those more vulnerable. These traits have stood him well over the years and our son was easy to like, quick to be respected and befriended by most everyone he would meet, share space with on this journey.

Well it seems I have managed to ramble on far more than I intended upon taking up my laptop this morning, here on my hotel bed, with the wonderful southern Cali sun shining brilliantly outside my patio window, beckoning to me....but my fingers assumed a life of their own once hitting the keyboard! But there you have it, just another 'prison dream'....the worries, the fears, that have long taken up residence in my subconcsious, and look for any opportunity to come out and play. But now, NOW its time for me to head back out into that bright, warm sunshine!

"Those who have compared our life to a dream were right.... We sleeping wake, and waking sleep." ~ Michel de Montaigne, Essays, 1580