It has been almost 2 months since I self surrendered to federal prison in Texas. I would like to report that I am getting used to things but I have made a promise to myself to NEVER get used to the prison lifestyle.
Believe me when I tell you there is nothing physically hard about being in prison, quite the contrary. My days are punctuated with mealtime, workouts, reading, writing, classes, and napping more than a newborn kitten. What is hard is the constant emotional longing for my life outside the fence. Family, friends, good food, comfortable clothes, carpet……CARPET?!
This past Sunday I went to church and the service was held in a small room to the side of the chapel. As I walked in I immediately felt it, soft, and warm, with its sound absorbing beauty, it was carpet! I realized that in over 2 months I had only set foot on concrete and crushed gravel. I quickly took a seat in the very last row all to myself. As the service commenced I quietly slipped off my shoes and socks. I sat for the remaining 30 plus minutes barefoot and smiling. Who knew I would miss carpet? I figured what better place to beg for forgiveness if I was caught? I sure hope there’s carpet in Heaven.
As many of you know my wife is extremely talented at many thing but she has a particular knack for cooking. When it comes to the list of things I miss from home my wife’s cooking is in the top 10. It is not that they don’t feed us here; it’s more “what” they feed us here. Having served time in the U.S. military I am no stranger to “food for the masses” but what I am exposed to here in federal prison has brought things to a whole new level.
If it is processed and or canned they will serve it. I have not seen one piece of fresh fruit or a fresh vegetable since arriving. Canned corn and canned spinach are staples served at most meals. Frozen waffles (still frozen) served with watered down cream of wheat, bran flakes with water, rice and beans with raw (yes uncooked) rice. Oh and least I forget, the fruit cocktail. It is served with every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner. YUM!
Now having joined the “never hurry, never worry and never, never, never, complain” club within a week of arriving, I can still honestly say that I am not complaining. I needed to lose weight when I got to prison and I see this menu as the government’s way of assisting me in that personal goal. However, I am in the minority and the natives are getting restless. I have heard several inmates threaten to write their congressmen declaring inhumane treatment and something about fresh fruits and deserts being a constitutional right. It has been a while since my high school civics class and I should really devote some of my free time to studying the constitution, because if that is true, I have some letters to write.
Speaking of free time, I have been using some of mine to lose weight and become physically fit. I have taken to walking at least 4 miles every day and running 3 or 4 miles every morning. Just last week I was asked by a guy from my building to join in a morning cardio workout group. Feeling pretty good about my progress over the past 6 or 7 weeks (I’m down over 34 pounds) I thought, “Sure how bad could it be?” I had no idea how many Olympic athletes and world-class triathletes were now federal prisoners serving time with me in Texas?
I mean these guys are sadists! I stuck with it for, oh, I don’t know, ten minutes.Quickly realizing I am still old and out of shape. At one point I could not tell if they were shouting words of encouragement or yelling for someone to get an ambulance? Either way I kept going until I couldn’t go anymore.
I think I will stick to my original workout plan once I am able to walk again. I even thought about trying Yoga or Pilates (yes they offer both here) but I overheard one of the Nazi storm troopers I was working out with say that he tried it and it kicked his butt. So I think I will put that on my schedule for the 1st of Neverwary! I think I get charged extra commissary dollars if they use the automatic external defibrillator more than once a month on you?
Oh yeah, commissary. In an earlier blog I mentioned my commitment to not eating anything from the commissary and only eating from the chow hall. Well, I am proud (I know I should not be using the word proud in the same context as the chow hall, but you get what I mean) to report I am still not eating any of the junk food from commissary. I need to emphasize “junk” food, because my roommate, Mike, was a chef in the “real world.” He is now the head of the administrative dining hall and serves the breakfast and lunch meals to all the staff members, so he gets to eat real food all day. Fresh fruits, real meats, fish, salads, you name it. At night sometimes Mike makes the most amazing healthy (at least that’s what I am telling myself) appetizers and snacks with commissary food.Things like shredded beef and sliced cheese on Wheat Thin crackers, some tuna casserole goodness made with who-knows-what? I have deviated slightly from the no commissary rule but only on occasion and still no junk food or sweets.
I can also report that I am doing okay (mostly because they do sell ibuprofen and Ben Gay in the commissary).I am losing weight, getting healthy and smiling in the back row at church. I am forever missing home, my kids, my wife, my friends, and good food.
There are some BIG changes coming very soon for me that I will be reporting on in a future blog and if there is any truth to the constitutional rights to fresh fruit and desserts I will asking all of you to help by writing your congressional representatives.
Meanwhile I ask everyone reading this to eat your favorite meal (sans fruit cocktail, sorry) barefoot on the carpet, smile, hug your loved ones and promise yourself to NEVER become “use to” negativity in your life.
Good things are just around the corner.
I never know whether to laugh or cry when I read your blog posts, Steve. Generally I do both—amazed by your fortitude, your positive attitude, your incredible writing ability and your still intact sense of humor; moved to tears by how difficult it is for you to be so far away from family and friends in such an alien environment. No carpet? A steady diet of canned fruit cocktail? Pretty alien. Seriously, you are an inspiration to me, a reminder never to take for granted what I so casually live with day to day, and an example of what it REALLY means when we are reminded to be in the present, taking one day, one hour, one breath at a time. The following story is one of my favorites, and I feel more and more, that you are making a difference in lives—one starfish at a time. That will make sense once you read the story 🙂
Much love to you…
Marilyn
The Star Thrower Story by Joel Barker
Inspired by the writing of Loren Eiseley
There’s a story I would like to share with you. It was inspired by the writing of Loren Eiseley. Eiseley was a very special person because he combined
the best of two cultures. He was a scientist and a poet. And from those two perspectives he wrote insightfully and beautifully about the
world and our role in it.
Once upon a time, there was a wise man, much like Eiseley himself, who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking
on the beach before he began his work. One day he was walking along the shore. As he looked down the beach, he saw a human figure moving
like a dancer. He smiled to himself to think of someone who would dance to the day. So he began to walk faster to catch up. As he got closer, he
saw that it was a young man and the young man wasn’t dancing, but instead he was reaching down to the shore, picking up something and very
gently throwing it into the ocean.
As he got closer, he called out, “Good morning! What are you doing?” The young man paused, looked up and replied, “Throwing starfish into
the ocean.”
“I guess I should have asked, “Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?”
“The sun is up and the tide is going out. And if I don’t throw them in they’ll die.
“But young man, don’t you realize that there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it. You can’t possibly make a difference!”
The young man listened politely. Then bent down, picked up another starfish and threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves. “It made a difference
for that one!”
His response surprised the man. He was upset. He didn’t know how to reply. So instead, he turned away and walked back to the cottage to begin
his writings.
All day long as he wrote, the image of the young man haunted him. He tried to ignore it, but the vision persisted Finally, late in the afternoon he
realized that he the scientist, he the poet, had missed out on the essential nature of the young man’s actions. Because he realized that what the
young man was doing was choosing not to be an observer in the universe and watch it pass by. But was choosing to be an actor in the universe
and make a difference. He was embarrassed.
That night he went to bed troubled. When the morning came he awoke knowing that he had to do something. So he got up, put on his clothes,
went to the beach and found the young man. And with him he spent the rest of the morning throwing starfish into the ocean.
You see, what that young man’s actions represent is something that is special in each and every one of us. We have all been gifted with the ability
to make a difference. And if we can, like that young man, become aware of that gift, we gain through the strength of our vision the power to
shape the future.
Once again Steve, I’m in awe of your writing, your ability to share your moments with us in such a lighthearted and meaningful way. You paint a picture with your words that made me immediately want to go to the family room and feel the carpet under my bare feet. Love to you always and know you are never far from our thoughts.
I’m really enjoying your writing Steve. Keep going, not just the writing but on every level. You can do this.