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

Notes from My Cell, April 14

[Letter to my friend Jay, living in San Francisco]

I miss real coffee like you wouldn’t believe. Not the caffeine really, but the whole experience- the heat, the smell, the taste…especially a good beany cup. I think I’ll like your neighborhood [I had written about the international varieties of coffee within walking distance from my new home.]

Thank you for the Bonhoeffer & the hymn texts, prayers, and liturgy--would you believe I haven’t heard music in two weeks? Meanwhile, I noticed that when I read the stanza, and found myself humming, then singing along. Meanwhile, the Fundamentalist church ladies who come in tried to sing, but it was another one of the “Jesus is my sex symbol” songs- "yes lord oh yes lord…Amen"? Eew. A few girls were smirking.

Just now I was thinking of Bonhoeffer’s imprisonment & noting the differences between then & now--such as a blaring television in the background. I suppose he & I both have the same difficulty getting visitors, & we’ve both been helped by an understanding/sympathetic guard. Of course, I know when I’m getting out of here. That is good. He got more books. Not so good. Finished a few books of his own- um, well, he was there longer? (wink) And yet I wonder, what will become of my time here? What will it mean a year from now? Or fifty?

I am looking out of my cell window at a beautiful blue sky and know spring is on the way. I’m glad to get out in May.

Monday is the day when lots of folks go home, held for the weekend. Now we are a quieter bunch. I hope my former cell mate is doing well, staying out of trouble- she is a good person at heart but caught up in a lot… I gave her my address. There are a few girls here I hope to stay connected with.

I’m documenting cases of medical negligence by the night nurse here. Details to follow… Must run! Peace to you!
Le Anne
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Letter dated 4/16-
Greetings Jay!
While its on my mind I thought I would write about accessibility issues here in jail.

We have a 63 year old lady who came in two days ago and has a lot of trouble with mobility (to be honest I thought she must be much older because so many women I know her age are much healthier). She has seemed quite disoriented as well. For some reason she didn’t get sent to the medical ward, which is an easier place to be, so we’ve been learning how to look out for her here.

I think that’s about the time I noticed that there are several accessibility features built into this cellblock. Half the doors on the lower level are wider doors and wider cells with larger, lower sinks and bigger beds (although there’s still a top bunk.)
Some of the stools/tables are higher & some are lower. We have an accessible shower with a ramp and one smaller, "traditional" shower. In some places there are extra grip bars. Huh! I guess the place was built in the 90’s or later, if I remember right, and perhaps it had to comply to ADA.

I hadn’t thought much before of older or more physically challenged people in jail. Sadly, most of the women in our “pod” (unit) who are older than I are here for multiple DUIs. The younger women are generally here for drug possession & related crimes.

I went to an AA meeting last night, just to check it out (I don’t know if that’s allowed-but I went anyway.) I thought it was pretty good actually. Several of the women from my pod went. I read the “Blue Book” a few years ago on retreat at a monastery, and I came across it in their library—and also found it pretty good. I’ve been thinking of getting a chapter together for seminary students, and/or perhaps clergy. I saw up close enough heavy drinking and its effects (and causes, I might add) at the Lutheran school to get pretty scared and cut back a good deal myself. Even now at CTS, when there’s a heavy drinking party I tend to avoid it. I do see that it is quite hard & risky really for a seminarian to admit to addiction & seek help. That’s why I think a specialized AA meeting would help. The students who I know are in AA & who I admire much are graduating this year. I will see if I can recruit other potential leaders who have some experience with the programs. And also look for good safe places where it could be held around the neighborhood.

Enough for now I suppose & time to help a girl write some letters in search of a better lawyer.

Notes from My Cell, April 11

[An activist couple sent me an Emma Goldman portrait/history greeting card, which I translated out loud in Spanish for our few ICE detainee friends; the card itself was so popular among the women I didn’t see it for a few days. It finally came back today – was stuck in someone’s Bible.

Most of us do go to Bible Study and “Church,” but it’s pretty clear both of these are led by horribly under-trained and fundamentalist volunteers. Except for their sweet suburban mom faces, not a lot of love or real Gospel. It’s also definitively geared toward conversion, which is what some girls are asking for – interesting to me to see who enjoys this and who doesn’t. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to capture fundamentalist persuasion and couple it with a more welcoming gospel of love and justice. For example, could you couple the style of Joel Osteen with lessons of good/just stewardship of money and your whole person, or a discussion on systems of poverty?

Today we had ‘Shakedown’ which is when they pull apart your cell and also frisk you good looking for contraband. Fortunately, I’m good to go, they only confiscated one of my pencils, which was really two golf pencils taped together.

Fortunately, I arrived some time after they ended the practice of strip AND cavity searches during shakedown, although they still strip search when you first come in. It’s also good to be aware that cameras and guards – male and female – are watching everything you do, at all hours of the day. Even when using the toilet and shower, and changing clothes. I’ve adopted a manner of modesty-plus-gutsiness, and it doesn’t buy me as much now. It helps to remember at that point, I am just a number.

I saw a cake fight tonight, which is actually round three over about as many days. Each day we do get dessert, a nice surprise, one meal is two cookies, and the other meal is cake. So, one woman was eating bits of the other’s cake while she wasn’t watching. So the ‘victim’ grabbed the rest of the cake and smooshed it in her face, like they do at obnoxious weddings. So, when the next cake dinner came around, the “thief” grabbed a handful and shoved it down the front of the other’s shirt. On round three, she returned the favor. I was laughing so hard I fell off my stool. Glad they didn’t go for the mashed potatoes, and also that they’re good friends.

I confess that I have eaten far too many of the “Nutty Bars” since they arrived in commissary on Thursday – healthy food is hard to come by. Supper is at 4:00 PM, so it’s easy to get hungry at night, and we’re not supposed to take food from dinner back to our cells. (Fortunately, the cookie I did abscond with after lunch I did eat BEFORE shakedown.)

Would you believe I actually spent the weekend napping and reading books for fun in BED? How long has it been? Probably not since I started seminary, with the exception of the Harry Potter books this summer. Usually, I have enough school reading to do that if I do have free time, I don’t want to do more, so that was a nice perk.

I actually don’t mind my cell, it does offer a certain “monastic” function that I was hoping for – just a bed and a desk and the sink/toilet. I do find it a quiet alternative to the dayroom, which has a usually loud TV and everyone playing cards; so when I feel like I’ve been social enough for the day, I head up to read, write, or nap. The next project is to read the entire Quran through, and perhaps all of Paul – the latter at the suggestion of the new chaplain (who, by comparison to the regular volunteers I think actually is pretty good) who suggested as a young pastor I might find more in Paul’s writings as a prisoner among prisoners sharing and thinking Gospel. We’ll see what happens.

4/11/08 – Every night I am here I watch girls cry, usually on the phone, usually because someone hasn’t come to bond them out. This is a pervasive strain in the unit, the issue of bond. The people who are here, for the most part, are people who can’t afford to not be here. My roommate, who finally got out today, went through a terribly painful ordeal as her family went to each member and friend, borrowing money, expecting them to make it back here before each deadline, still not enough, pawning more possessions, again not enough, dissolving into tears after being so hopeful day after day, that they’d already packed. Another girl was given rising bail - $2000 the day of court, $3,000 next, $4,000 the next – or off to prison for the next three years without a chance to go home after sentencing. Federal cases are worse, you may spend years in this building while your case is being processed, and never see the light of day past your six inch window strip. Two girls here are in this predicament. I am extremely lucky. I have a definite ‘out date.’ The chaplain I met with this week suggested I focus my Bible study on Paul, who pastured and taught even as he was a prisoner among prisoners, that this might be a good frame and function for me as a young pastor behind bars. For those of you who pray, pray this week for my young friends in the Holy Name 6, who were treated quite badly in police custody after their nonviolent protest against the war Easter Sunday. They are young, but I think they have admirable convictions. If you can, please contribute to their legal support on my behalf. Many thanks, Peace, LeAnne.

Notes from My Cell, April 7

We've had beans five times in four days. I'm surprised, I guess, although I know it's cheap filler. I guess fiber is beneficial too since there's very little veggie and lots of starch. If I didn't mention it earlier Bisquick is at almost every meal. Bisquick and blue berries, Bisquick with butter, or jam, or as Chicken ala King.

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A good film is on tonight's TV and many of the girls are watching. Others are playing cards – the girls from Syria, Mexico and Korea all realized they knew rummy and spades and my translation isn't so necessary there. It's nice not to be needed (too much.) I've been reading through the stack of novels- generally skipping the romances….

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I don't know if I've written yet about praying the Green Line, like the Rosary, stop after stop along the tracks. Sometimes it's the Metra and sometimes the #15, but mostly the Green Line, through which I see some of the hardest luck places in the city.

Anyway, I miss that ride, but I can pray the cells or even the telephone calls I can't help but overhear from my cell next to the phone. Anguished calls, or calls followed by tears, or anger another party isn't answering. Many pain-filled lives are literally at my door. I do my best to listen and comfort above my own physical difficulties, exhaustion, and sometimes a heavy locked door.

Most have children, most have partners. Some are here because of their partner's drug or crime problems. Others, of course, are here because the problems were primarily their own. All the mothers worry about being inside on a child's birthday. I write all of this because my not having any children or desire for a partner is an endless source of fascination for the other women.

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Jail is not built for comfort. I remind myself this twelve times a day, mostly while working on loosening that back spasm. It's supposed to be cold and you're supposed to be hungry and tired. My younger friend wants to know if I've cried yet, and is amazed I haven't. She wonders where I get the calm. She's equally fascinated by my wanting to do ministry. I think she may have potential for good things.

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It was so good to have Easter, my 30th birthday, and the farewell before coming in. Necessary spiritual support. I was reminded of this because of the lousy chapels [chaplains? editor] – where is the Gospel of telling me everything I am up to this point is garbage, and all I need is to choose the clothes of righteousness? Whatever happened to a loving God? Whatever happened to Biblical study rather than choosing "magic words" from a dozen different verses? But I suppose these suburban ladies mean well, and some of the girls really like them. As my young friend says, "You have to understand most of us have lived lives outside of Christ." But the Catholic girl says, "They teach us in there stuff I've never seen in church and their Bible isn't like any Bible I've read."

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Nearly all the girls play cards, which I am terrible at generally, but I'm about to get better I think. It's neat that cards are the universal language.

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A lot of my time has gone these past two days to helping the Syrian girl reach her husband or family and find out what's going on. I almost wonder if her husband isn't planning to pick her up. Or perhaps they don't know enough English to set up the phone [collect calling plan through a company that charges exorbitant rates. In GA, it was Beall's Communication, and it took both of my internet-savvy adult sons several attempts to help my husband set this up while I was in prison. ed] And I don't know enough to really help, which is frustrating.

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A trip outside today, for a physical at the hospital nearby – mandated by the BOP [Bureau of Prisons. ed] So, into full shackles and the paddy wagon for me. This had a startling effect on the citizens of Woodstock who happened to be in the hospital at the same time. I just tried to smile and say, "don't mind me." He guards and the medics I spoke to today were also pretty surprised to hear what I was here for protesting. One was actually quite upset, possibly by another case she's familiar with – a child molester who also only received 30 days. "Why are we locking you up when this girl's whole life has been ruined?" She also apologized for the shackles, saying that if I was seen outside without them, she'd be in trouble. It was an interesting conversation, the guards, the docs, and myself. The guard and I didn't see eye to eye on immigration, but I still felt as though it was a transformative few moments.
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