Still ...

Lately I've been getting impatient. I received a parole answer last year that said I would be picked up in May for a four-month rehab program and get out in September. Like most things around here, I expected everything to come together later than scheduled but here it is almost August and there is still no sign of me even starting the program.

I think it goes without saying I am pumped to be home soon. Though most of my friends have moved on and away, I still look forward to spending time with family, I can't wait to get this institutional structure off my back and out of my head. These things - and more - I have anticipated for years but last November the jets were turned on.

Last month I began my process of detachment from this place. First, I found an extra coworker for the library and showed both he and the other coworker the ropes. That backfired. Both guys are no longer there and I'm back to only one coworker. I tried to step away but now I'm back in the thick of it, working and training the next guy.

Second, I pulled back my extroverted self. I used to interact with a broad spectrum of guys but, since I'm laving soon, I don't want to invest in relationships that I'll just snap in half in a short time. I'm pretty much just hanging out with West and Le now that Shane is gone.

Third, I'm getting rid of physical stuff I don't want to carry with me and I'm preparing my mental stuff for when I get out. I gave away my role-playing books and sent home a load of literature to empty my locker a bit. I'm holding on to about a dozen books to read during transit and at the program. I've been planning a budget and studying business to try to ready myself for starting a small venture on the side. Through all of this I am keeping focused on the Lord, knowing He has plans for me but clueless as to His schedule.

And that's what has been getting to me lately. I'm ready to leave, was ready a month ago, years ago, but I'm still here waiting. I feel like I am at a restaurant waiting for the lighted buzzer in my hand to go off with no results. I wish they had not told me I made parole if they were not planning to uphold their end of the bargain. They are three months behind and the waiting is killing me.

Hope to see you soon, friend

Shane left to go home this morning. He has been my best friend since our days in the choir at San Saba and one of the few guys I plan to hang out with when I get out. My release shouldn't be too far away now.

Shane and I talk about anything. He is a passionate believer in Christ and we would discuss Scripture and theology regularly. He would often come to me armed with a question or two that had been on his mind and we would wrestle together, both of us unhappy with trite answers. Since I'm the more bookish one I would supply him with Christian books that I especially enjoyed and we would talk through them, arguing over authors' points and backing with Scripture. Where most guys in prison sharpen each others' criminal skills, we were honing our spiritual disciplines together.

I hope to hear from him soon. Wherever we are next spring, we plan to do a road trip on the west coast as a way to reconnect and share adventure. I'm looking forward to it.

So very close

Another loss in a championship for American soccer. This time it was the women in the World Cup who fell to Japan in penalty kicks. This team had captured more attention than any since the 1999 champs with their spirited comeback win against Brazil last week.

Brazil, the number-one rated team in the world, was up 2-1 and has one more player after a crazy referee's succession of red card and penalty kicks in the second half. Amazingly, the U.S. scored a tying goal just before full time was called. Each team scored one goal in overtime.

In the closing seconds a cross flew across the face of the goal and was hammered into the net by the head of Abby Wambach. My jaw dropped. We had to go to our cells for count while the teams battled through penalty kicks but a friend gave me the results of each kick as he swept the floor. Down a player, the U.S. had beaten the number one team in the world.

That excitement carried through the semifinal win over France and it looked certain that the Americans would beat Japan for the championship. Between games I discussed tactics and favorite players with two friends, John and West, who are also enthusiastic fans. It was odd to be talking women's soccer at all, much less in an environment like this, surrounded by testosterone and junkies of a different sort of football.

The final was going well for the Americans until Japan tied it in the closing minutes of the game. In overtime the U.S. scored, followed by a goal from the Japanese, My stomach churned as I realized that this game was eerily similar to the Brazil game. The only difference was full squads on both sides.

The Americans' usually sure-handed goalie, Hope Solo, allowed three goals to pass, while the American shooters met similar luck, missing the first two shots. were interlaced atop my head in nervousness that proved to be well-founded when Japan scored their final kick. My Jaw dropped. The Americans had lost. It sure was a fantastic journey, though.

Discovering Harry Potter all over again

Last weekend my friends and Betsy came to visit me. We often spend much of our time together talking about books and movies, and, of course, the media has been abuzz about a significant juncture of the two - the final Harry Potter movie.

I started reading Harry Potter in sixth grade and loved it. I was so excited when my seventh grade English teacher told us we would be reading the first book in class. The books captured my imagination and I was right there in Diagon Alley or eluding Fitch with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, the release of the books was too slow for me to maintain interest and Goblet of Fire, the fourth book of seven, was the last I read for years.

Five years ago I tool a college-level British literature course from a teacher who was wild about Harry Potter, so much so that she assigned book six, The Half-Blood Prince, for our modern literature book. I was ambivalent at first but quickly got right back into the story. After devouring book six, I went back and read book five to see what I had missed. This time I was seeing the amazing craft and bigger themes that J.K. Rowling had included - references to history, mythology, classic literature.. My mind was blown.

The last book, Deathly Hallows, was still to new at the time for our prison library to have a copy and I didn't know anyone who had it, so I had to stop again. When I arrived here the library had a copy, but I was always finding other things to read. I promised my self I would get to it eventually.

Sandy and Betsy both mentioned their excitement about the movie release. When Betsy heard that I hadn't read the last book, she said in her choir teacher voice, "Whatever you're reading right now, put it down and read book seven. You have to." I did as I was told.

I finished the book today and the first thing I did was sit down and write a letter of gratitude to Betsy for waking my senses. Deathly Hallows is a perfect culmination of events from the first six books. I've been talking to my friend, Lee, about it all week - the layering and significance of little bits, parallels to Scripture.

Now I want to go back and read them all again... and maybe I won't put it off so long this time.

A peaceful proposal

Today's event was set into motion nearly a year ago when the assistant warden approved many card games to enter the unit. My friend, West, immediately had many cards sent to him for the most popular trading card game out there - Magic: The Gathering. This game prepared the way for Pokemon and Yu-GI-Oh! to come years later, but still outperforms in sales and strategy.

I learned the game from West and got some cards of my own. I didn't have many cards to start with, but was able to trade a couple of my good cards for unopened ransom packs of new cards which, of course, opened new opportunities for trading, hence, the name "trading card game." Each of the cards has a different purpose or action in the game and trades happen so people can get cards that are more powerful or better match their other cards.

Several of us organized a tournament for Magic: The Gathering when we saw how many people had picked it up. With the cards I had I developed an idea for a deck that would play in a very different kind of way from most. Instead of attacking and killing the other players with my cards, I would empty the cards out of their decks so they couldn't play. I had a little help form other guys who lent me some cards to use but I was ready to compete.

In the tournament I struggled at first before advancing into the knockout round with big wins. I won the knockout games all the way to the final today. My opponent told me he just wanted is picture taken so he could send it home. He won the first of these games when I had a terrible draw of my hand. The second game I won easily - no contest. The third game was very close. He won one turn before woudl have emptied his deck, which would have been a win for me.

My peaceful deck almost won the tournament but, bigger than that, we completed the first tournament for a card game at this unit. That's plenty big in itself.

Flaming motorcycle while juggling monkeys blowing bubbles

I got a very good sign of imminent release today: my blood was drawn. This is usually done 90 days before release, which could mean that my day is coming up soon. Needless to say, my excitement is running high.

This morning I was called out of work in the library to the infirmary a few doors away. Sitting in the sparse waiting room (no magazines, cushy chairs or gross posters on the wall here) I spotted a friend who got the same parole answer as me at the same time I did. While we were chatting about what we are looking forward to upon release, my name was called. We call this "being sucked by the vampires" because we often come out with several holes and a transformed attitude.

In the infirmary I sat on a chair and laid out my right arm to be tied off with a rubber tourniquet. The nurse, a young blonde that everyone has warned me about, asked polite questions about my plans for release. As I answered, looking away, I felt the prick in the bend of my elbow.

"Uh oh, you rolled," she said.

After a few moments of feeling a weird sensation in my arm, I looked down and saw the needle twirling in my arm making circles as she tried to find my rolled vein.

"You know, that is petty uncomfortable," I told her.

"Yeah... okay, let's try the other one," she replied. "You have great veins, they just roll."

ON my left arm the nurse missed again, blaming another rolling vein. This is what I'd been warned about. Little did I know I would be assaulted for my blood so Texas Department of Corrections can run tests for AIDS and Hep C. The nurse decided to call in a substitute who drew blood on her first poke. I did not foresee the necessity of performing as a pincushion but, if it means going home, I will ride a flaming motorcycle while juggling monkeys blowing bubbles.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it! (after censoring, of course.)

My friend, Lelan, started a unit newsletter a few months ago to share events that happen in the unit and give some positive messages. It was a great idea and fairly well-executed. He asks inmates to contribute ideas for articles, quotes, recipes and news items so it stays well-rounded, too.

Around Christmas Lelan asked me to write the feature. Somehow my words came out remarkable similar to his draft for the Thanksgiving newsletter, even using the exact same in places. We had a good laugh about how our brains operated n the same frequency.

This month Lelan asked me to put together the whole newsletter from material he had gathered. I've been helping with his work in the ACA office because he's been swamped and I haven't been working in the library much n ow that I have two able coworkers. (Dawson's departure allowed for the addition of a Hispanic guy named Ant.) Now, instead of doing tedious paperwork, I'm able to exercise my creativity.

Lelan does the newsletters with MS Publisher, which is like the Ford Taurus of publication design. It lasted forever and gets the job done, but the result is inelegant even after struggling against the program itself. I had hoped that my little bit of design savvy could help make the result look a bit more professional. No such luck. As they say, a mechanic is only as good as his tools.

The material I was given wasn't quite enough to fill two pages, so I came up with what I thought would be a nifty little column: a monthly "list of five", with a random selection of five related things and a short fact about each one. To fit this month's theme of keeping promises, I made a the first list the Five Languages of Love, followed by examples of each, such as writing an encouraging note for the language of kind words.

In an example of how silly prison can be, my list of five as shot down by Lelan's boss because anything I put as an example for the physical language would be "encouraging inmates to touch each other." Really" The inmates who touch each other in loving ways are going to touch each other regardless of what our newsletter says (that may be the first acknowledgement of homosexuality in prison for this blog, a reality that has been around me since my first unit 3 1/2 years ago.) The column is not meant for inmates to use on each other, but for their families at home. This is supposed to be a unit for reintegration.

Instead, I put together a quick list of five offbeat books with a quirky summary for each. Even with my effort, the design didn't end up very aesthetically pleasing. However, it is complete.