Notes from My Cell, April 16

A reminder: a peace vigil will take place for LeAnne and peace, every Wednesday from 5:15 in the CTS Hilton Chapel. (The small chapel on the first floor.) There will be someone there for at least an hour, and the chapel will be open after that.

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4/16: My hand hurts and I don't feel much like writing but my brain is busy so it might be good to do so anyway.

Today I sent off some cartoons I'd drawn about life in jail, which I'll hopefully copy onto the website eventually. The first was pictures of what we eat (beanie-weenie, beanie-without-weenie, and beanie-with-mystery-meat) plus a prison version of upside-down cake (frosting on the bottom so it doesn't stick to the stack of trays.) I also did one of all possible party costumes you could construct from prison-issue clothing and linens (a pillow case makes a good tail for a tiger, since you're already in orange and black). This las one I sent to Mom for her 60th birthday card, since she has always liked my cartoon characters. Her birthday is the 18th.

I also wrote several letters by dictation/translation for our immigrant friends here who are still without representation- so we're writing to legal aid agencies. This was a multi-national effort, since I'm rather slow on both Spanish translation and legal options for immigrants. So my Romanian [sp?] friend helped me with the legal part and both Mexican friends and I pieced the rest together. I also wrote a letter for my Korean friend whose American husband of 30 years seems to have forgotten all about her. No phone, visits, or letters in all this time, and no money for comissary to get shampoo and such. So we quit writing letters to the husband and are now getting legal help for her directly. Meanwhile, of course they threaten to deport her. What does a 63 year old woman do back in Korea when she's been gone 30 years? All her family is gone. So it is a difficult situation. Meanwhile, the husband of one of my Mexican friends found a lawyer, but the lawyer took their money and didn't work on the case. Now they have nothing to pay a new lawyer.

4/17: Comissary arrived today, and we stood on the floor with our pillow cases like eager trick or treaters. I have envelopes for me, and moe pencils. Another notepad didn't come through. I think I can make do, though, with the backs of received letters. I order as many as I can but still run out of something by the end of the week for letter-writing. In the meantime, we'll hold a party tonight with our snack goodies- one woman who his here is honoring the birthday of her fiance, who died one month ago tomorrow, from a drug overdose. So we will all contribute something- a sort of potluck.

Last night I went to "Celebrate Recovery" which is an Evangelical 12 step/8 principle program which kind of covers all the ailments and addictions at once- from alcohol and narcotics to food, anger, and workaholism- the latter being why I thought I might sign up. I did include some good, intensive life-sharing, which I think really benefitted everyone, and it also made me a little more empathetic for the Fundamentalist laywoman running the program. I do understand that religious traditions based on controland rigidity are very appealing to people who feel their lives are out of control. Many of the women here said they need it, so I am becoming more careful in how I criticize it. But I also still challenge words of intolerance- attacks on LGBTQ people and people of other faiths.

All cozy now in my cell and working on getting these letters written! Today, since the guards have not yet confiscated my "excess correspondence" as contraband (gee) I've lined up all my greeting cards on the top bunk. Church (UCHP) has sent so many cheerful floral cards, it is now like having a garden in my little cell. I'll try to get away with it as long as I can. It is helping to dispel my "mid-sentence grouchies." All the letters do help keep my spirits up, I realize this most over the weekend when there's no mail. Some of the women truly never get mail. I try to share the poetry, the pictures, etc., at breakfast mail call, and I hope to collect "out-dates" for some of the women who will be here later than me.

There is an A&E documentary on Matthew Shephard on tv now, and many of the girls are rapt with attention to the screen. This is good. There is quite a bit of homophobia here, not just from the Prison Fellowship folks but among the women. Also rampant among guards and inmates is a dislike of immigrants- where they are mostly ignored by the other women, or of the kind where immigrants as a whole are maligned but the few here are made known to be exceptions. Those of us who can, help with the letter writing, translation, and sharing comissary goods.

I found out in a letter from a classmate yesterday that there is a weekly peace vigil at the seminary while I am away. I don't know who has organized it or who's attending, but I am very touched by it. It is good to know not only that I am loved and remembered, but also that folks "outside" are working on the cause for which I've gone to jail in the first place.

We are guessing these days perhaps the food has a sedative effect- it is heavily starch and fat, and veggie/fruit servings quite scarce. But most of us are pretty subdued this week, going back to bed as soon as wwe finish eating, and tough to wake up in the morning. I imagine we're "sugar-crashing." Although the younger ones might be quite "sugared-up" for the weekend, having ordered extra comissary.

I've drawn another little picture just now, of my cell, as it might look when you walk in the door. You'll have to picture me in a blanket shawl as usual, either writing at the desk or on the bunk. The hop/swing out seat can be comfortable enough for a while, but the bed allows more space to lay out papers. [I put the picture up on the bulletin board of CTS Room 133. –David]

Please pray for my friend in court today, trying to get into rehab and get her child and cats back. Please pray for the women who are forgotten here, for the immigrants, and for those scared to be here, and the women who cry by the phones. Peace to you and I hope to see you soon.


LeAnne

Darkly Spinning Carousel

Tonight I went to see the Court Theater's production of Carousel, one of Rodgers' and Hammerstein's classics. I was blown away.

I think I expected something light, comic, perhaps sappy or cheesy. After all, wasn't this a Technicolor film of the fifties?

This was not that, even if one is familiar with all the songs. No, this production carried a gravitas I wholly unexpected. Here was laid out starkly the issues of turn-of-the-century industrial living that we still face today: grueling factory (sweatshop) labor, domestic violence, economic disparity and economic despair.

Now, before I go much further, I have to admit I never saw the original production or the film. YouTube provides some clips. The film I hope to rent someday; as for the play, on account of growing up poor and rural, I have missed much of the standard repertoire of even high school productions.

Still, here tonight were no carousel colors, except for the owner of the carnival ride herself, in stark contrast to the worn, faded clothes of the fishermen and mill girls. Poverty and the lack of options for women were cast at the forefront and the romances became the background, the opposite of how this has often been staged according to several sources I looked up. Billy is not so glamourous as troubled, and it is heartbreaking to see him finally come together for the purpose of raising his child right, only to careen down the wrong path for the right reasons, to his death.

The actress who played the wise cousin/gatekeeper of Heaven/graduation speaker was just remarkable. Ernestine Jackson has this beautiful deep voice for both singing and speaking, and has reknown for multiple Broadway roles, as well as some stints on 'Law and Order,' and a role in 'Bonfire of the Vanities.'

There was a disturbing theology at work in the middle of the play that I'm still mulling over. When Billy Bigelow dies, he wants to see the Judge himself, but is only assigned a local magistrate. Shortly before he dies, his friend tells him that only the wealthy ever get their cases heard by the Supreme Court, and that's what it's like in heaven, also. For me this stirs up thoughts on the current 'Prosperity Gospel: Wealth and blessing, wealth as indicative of goodness; poverty as indicative of cursedness; economic justice issues abound.
Curiously enough, heaven also offers Billy the chance to go back and attend to unfinished business. It's almost abrupt, hastened over, the actions that he takes--it's careening towards the final number. (And after I looked it up, it does this also in the movie of some decades ago).

But, in other thoughts and impressionts--what is this carousel but an empty entertainment, a colorful facade? It is good to enjoy a little for amusement but it is also the source and symbol of much pain, of broken promises and dreams. Actually, it is not much fun at all in the backdrop of the wider social problems. Is it an enigma?