Tag Archives: drugs

Red Hat Days

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VINCE

We still haven’t had our red hat reviews yet. This is very disappointing because two squads left today, and we would have been given our brown hats today. Hat color means a lot around here. Without brown hats, we get not weight room, no visits, no phone calls. There’s still time, but it’s kind of annoying. If we were late for anything, they would treat us as if we were idiots. Oh well. Only four months to go.

—

Our red hat review was postponed until Monday. We’ve been nervous about it all week, now we have to make it through the weekend. I’m not actually worried about anything, but a few of my squad mates are. Because, of course, they aren’t doing very well in one or all aspects.

I finished my fourth run today. I’m still amazed at the end. I’ve come so far.

—

Here are a couple things that are difficult, even after two months. The first one is a position we hold briefly before we march that gives us our proper alignment. It’s called “dress right, dress.” Upon the execution command of the second “dress,” we snap our left arm out straight left, and look directly right. Then we all move to touch the fingertips of the guy on the right. If we don’t do this correctly, and somebody wants to be mean, they will make us stand in that position for five minutes, without touching anybody else. You should try it at home. Just put your arm shoulder height, straight left, and see how long you can hold it.

—

Day 60. 1/3 of the way. 120 days to go. 360 meals, 52 runs. However I want to put it, I’m getting there.

Yesterday, 18 of us went out on a mission to plant trees on a Department of Natural Resources tree farm. We walked two miles on dirt and sand in our full khaki uniforms, coveralls, hat and gloves while carrying shovels. It’s a lot of work just to get to a job site.

Along the way, a few of us found a pretty good number of agates, which we tossed back to Mother Nature, as we are not allowed to have any contraband.

The planting trees part was actually quite peaceful. Quiet is what I enjoy most in any prison/jail setting, probably because it is so rare.

So the 18 of us planted 250 1-foot tall pine trees in an area similar in shape to, but twice as large as, a football field. It was warm out, but I hardly noticed anything but nature. It was a good day.

Nodrinkalotine

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ANNE

There seems to be all sorts of momentum to reform drug sentencing, to reduce mass incarceration, and to make it easier for ex-offenders to make it on the outside.

There was a full-page article in my favorite magazine, The Week, entitled “Opening the prison door: A new, bi-partisan movement is challenging the notion that jailing millions of Americans makes the U.S. safer.”  You have to be logged in to see it, otherwise I’d share it.  It cites the stats: taxpayers spend $80 billion a year to keep 2.4 million prisoners locked up.  It examines what’s going on in various states, including the reddest of red states, Texas. I never thought I would admiringly quote Texas Governor Rick Perry, but he said, “The idea that we lock people up, throw them away forever, never give them a second chance at redemption, isn’t what America is about.”

Current affairs geek that I am, I enjoy watching 60 Minutes on Sunday evenings.  I hate it when it is delayed for some stupid sporting event, like football.  ANYway, a few weeks ago they did a story on TED Talks, and one of the TED talkers they featured was Bryan Stevenson, a public-interest lawyer and the founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, which is challenging racial discrimination in the criminal justice system.

The Minneapolis Star Tribune is full of related articles.  One is about a couple of drug reform bills that failed to pass.  Hennepin County Attorney Mike Freeman is quoted: “Those people who possess large amounts [of drugs] for sale suffer from the disease of greed, and the answer to their problems isn’t treatment, but the big house.” The big house? Is he living in a Jimmy Cagney movie or what? Regardless, most people in prison on drugs charges, including Vince, were busted with small amounts of drugs.  Sigh.

There an article about how the DOC has succeeded in banning journalists from taking photos or video inside prisons.  To me, this sounds very much like the DOC has something to hide, and also like a slippery slope toward becoming more like North Korea or Iran.  I mean, freedom of the press is a pretty fundamental part of democracy, and nowadays visuals are so much more vital to reporting than ever.

There’s an editorial, “Restore voting rights to former felons.”  This is a hot button issue for me.  Because Vince was convicted of his first felony shortly after he turned 18, he wasn’t allowed to vote until he’d cleared his record–when he was 30.  It so happened that this was the year Barak Obama was elected, and Vince was jubilant.  “My team won!” he exclaimed.  I was so happy for him.  Now he’ll start from square one.

At work, I see all sorts of funding opportunities for studies of addiction. These are just two that I saw in the same day: “Second Chance Act Strengthening Families and Children of Incarcerated Parents” from the Department of Justice, and “Human Studies to Evaluate Promising Medications to Treat Alcohol Use Disorder” from the National Institutes of Health.

So there really does seem to be a movement to end mass incarceration, and there is promising research being conducted to get at the root causes of addiction. Someday maybe, when you take your 10-year-old kid in for his annual exam, the doctor will run some routine genetic tests. “Mr. and Ms. Jones, I’m afraid your son has inherited your family’s gene for addiction. The good news is, we can tweak is DNA, or put him on a course of Nodrinkalotine. Let’s discuss the pros and cons of each….”

Cleaning Up His Act

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VINCE

I got to leave the grounds for the first time today. Myself and five other volunteers took a short van ride to a YMCA camp type of area thing place. We cleaned up after some sort of event, folding tables, stacking chairs, sweeping, mopping, etc. Nothing too exciting but just for half an hour I felt like I wasn’t in custody. It was nice.

We’ve been here a while now and more of these opportunities will come. Count me in.

It’s been snowing all day. It all has melted on contact with the ground, but we still haven’t been able to get outside much. That’s why I’m able to write so much sometimes.

—

Twice now I’ve made it four laps around the big track. Three miles each day is definitely an improvement over, well, anything I’ve ever done. My lungs are sore. My ribs hurt. My calves are tight. I have an abundance of energy, but am too sore to do anything with it. And I’m starving! Soon we will eat.

It’s my down day. It’s been quite frustrating so far.

It started at 0800. In line waiting for breakfast, the notorious Officer Weston was looking at everybody’s boots. Mine, along with several others, were not up to par. They should be inspection-ready at all times, so I can’t blame it on anything other than me being lazy. He made me go back to the barracks and get a shine on them before I could eat.

After breakfast, he lined us up in the main hallway and took us one by one into our respective barracks to our bunks to inspect our personal areas. Mine was not looking too good.

It’s hard—nearly impossible—to have every area perfect. 2 bins; clothing in one, books, folders, mail, medications in the other. He unfolded all the clothes and tipped the other bin upside down on my bed. Then he took all of the clothes off my hangers and shoved them into the top part of my locker (our display area for hygiene stuff) so I had to start everything from scratch.

It took me two hours to fix it all. I finally got to go play some cribbage outside with a friend. When I came back in, a different Officer had un-made my bed for me. I don’t know why. Ugh. I need to focus more I think. Just when I thought I was doing well….

[ANNE: I am a neatnik, although I’ve learned to ease off. I used to be such a clean freak that I think people were uncomfortable in my house. And Vince was the opposite, maybe in unconscious rebellion? Who knows. His slovenliness was one of the things that bothered me when I would visit him in Lanesboro. His apartment was strewn with dirty clothes, empty beer cans, and trash. The carpet was stained, the blinds were crookedly half-raised so it was always dark, the bathroom was…well let’s just say I preferred using the porta-potty at the nearby campground. So now he’s learning to take care of his things, to make his bed, to keep things tidy. It’ll be interesting to see if he continues that once he’s released.]

Fact-Resistant Humans

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VINCE

It is such a beautiful day. Fortunately we spent a lot of it outside. For an hour we marched. We’re getting pretty good. We can do counter columns, rear march, left and right flanks and obliques. In 4 and 2/3 months we will get to show our moves at our graduation. Time moves so quickly.

After marching we spend about 3 hours sweeping the running rack and transporting leaves and pine needles from the woods to the compost piles. I didn’t even feel like I was working, it was so nice out. But as I write this I’m quite sore, and I have a huge blister on the palm of my hand.

—

I’ve been lazy all day and I loved it. I won five games of cribbage. I’ve done a little bit of treatment work. I’m hoping that not doing anything physical today will help me in my running tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know in the next sentence.

—

Nope. I only ran two miles. Still an improvement from ten months ago, but not where I want to be. I need to try harder, but it’s hard to try harder. And my legs hurt.

I got my Initial Treatment Plan (ITP) last Friday. I hate it because it’s spot on. As it turns out, I’m controlling, I just didn’t know how bad I was.

I use my body language and anger/sarcasm to control the people around me. For example, if somebody close by is doing something wrong, I try to look like I’m upset and I might even point them out to somebody else instead of talking to them about it.

Another example: If I’m having trouble with making my bed, I will exaggerate my frustrations to make it look like I’m having trouble so people will try to help, instead of me just asking for help. And sometimes when they offer assistance, I get annoyed and tell them off, which makes me look like an asshole. Ugh. Treatment is hard. I like it.

—

Today I noticed that I quit biting my nails a week ago. I didn’t even do it on purpose, it just happened. I wish I hadn’t noticed it, I can’t stop looking at them now…I must change my focus.

Here’s a good one. The other day in our cognitive thinking class, where we are invited to ask questions about anything, someone asked why the asteroid that killed off the dinosaurs didn’t kill all the people too. Then: dead silence. I was the first to laugh. He’s not a smart man, and every week he has mentioned that he “doesn’t believe in dinosaurs,” as if they were mythical creatures.

Maybe not such a cray thought considering our teacher says we’re all descendants of aliens—35-40-foot-tall aliens.

[ANNE: When I spoke with Vince on Sunday, he told me about this instructor, Tim Peebles. Vince is enthusiastic about the Thinking for Change class Peebles teaches. He said it’s all been developed by Hazelden Betty Ford, which is a well-respected chemical dependency treatment, publishing, and research center. But aliens? How can you lecture people about thinking rationally, then (as Vince described) spend the remainder of the class telling stories about the aliens you saw are Roswell? I believe there is life elsewhere in the universe, but until there are facts in front of me, I don’t claim to know what form they take.

I googled Tim Peebles and below are the Putinesque images that came up. Maybe they’re different incarnations of him?]

Peebles

Breakthrough

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VINCE

It’s been a crazy two days. The new guys have been getting yelled at constantly, which does take some pressure off us, but we are also feeling the pressure of trying to set an example for them.

Most amusing to me is seeing what we looked like a month ago. Completely disoriented, disorganized, and disheveled. We have made enormous progress in just over five weeks. We also have a long way to go.

Today, I really blew it. I talked myself down and out of the running group. I used every excuse I could think of to make myself okay with doing only two laps (1.5 miles). Now, of course, I feel stupid. I have a lot of trouble still with motivating myself to run. I don’t like any part of it except for how I feel when I’m done. That’s the only way I can explain it.

—

I received a postcard from my Mother today from Petra, Jordan, postmarked two months ago. So that took a little while. Well, it’s been a long day. Time for dinner soon. Tuna casserole.

I’m going to apply for a lead cook job here. It doesn’t pay, but it would be great experience.

The tuna casserole was actually quite delicious.

It’s Friday night. We don’t really do too much. Study hall for 1.5 hours at some point I think.

Then comes Saturday. My least favorite day. It’s the day we’re all on call for any dirty job they come up with. Trending this week is the gigantic compost piles. Tons and tons of decomposing organic matter we get to move around over and over, and over. If you don’t know what compost smells like, think of the smell of feces, and then don’t change anything. That by itself isn’t so bad.

When we’re working we are dressed in our full khaki uniform, long-sleeves and legs, and coveralls, gloves, and a hat. It’s not even hot out yet and we’re sweating like crazy. I’m not complaining; I signed up for this. Ugh.

[ANNE: Vince called me today, the first time in over 2 months. He is allowed one phone call every other Sunday from here on out.  Except, he explained, that this month has five Sundays so it’ll be three weeks until he can call again. I’ve been trained by the DOC now, not to ask “But why?”

Vince is allowed one 13-minute phone call, and he called me. That tells me I must have done something right—right?

And to me at least, once we got talking it felt so natural, like we had just talked yesterday. I think that’s a sign of a close relationship, when you don’t need to be in constant contact to feel comfortable talking to the person on the other end of the line. It wasn’t always that way. In fact for years our conversations via text and in person (Vince didn’t have voice service on his phone) were stilted and extremely uncomfortable. I was always hinting and probing and hoping for some sign that he wanted to change, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. This is huge, I realize as I write this. Happy Day! And maybe this means that someday he can have a healthy romantic relationship too.]

Vince’s Big BM

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VINCE

The stress is getting to me finally. They really pile the work up on us.

I’m having troubles in more areas that I thought and it was brought to my attention over the past couple of days.

Thankfully, it happened on the side by a CO. He didn’t point anything out but he talked to me and when I answered his questions I realized then that I’m not perfect, I have residual anti-authority issues from being a criminal for a good portion of my life, and that I still negative-talk myself a lot. I kind of still hate myself for wasting my life away using and dealing drugs. Sometimes I want to give up. I want to leave this place because it would be easier than staying.

The CO and I talked for a good half hour. He wouldn’t let me walk away. He wouldn’t allow me to use the self-pity stance. And he almost got me to cry.

He took me aside to talk because he knows I do try. That I’m not a trouble maker. And mostly because I really needed to be heard. I was able to open up and really dig.

And we found some problems I’ve been having here, that I couldn’t see.

I’m controlling, manipulative, and a perfectionist, which is why I hurt so much inside. I’m full of shit. And I don’t want anybody to know. I use deceit to control. I will lie, cheat, steal, tell half truths, and beg to obtain and continue using drugs on the outside. And in here I’m defensive, I’m always right, to keep others off balance. Then I point out their faults. I need to quit all that now.

I hope some of that made sense. Sometimes I just write to vent. I feel better getting that out.

—

Today is the first day of our 6th week. We are no longer lowest in seniority; we got new guys today.

Today’s date seems to have some significance in my life. Nine years ago, it was still my sobriety date. Before that, I don’t remember how long ago, I had the chicken pox, and another time I was an usher in my aunt’s wedding. Today, I ran over three miles and didn’t die.

I ran three straight laps around the big track (two miles). Then I had to walk twice around the small track, but then I fell back in to the run, and completed two more laps (one and a third miles). I am so sore. But I feel great.

This last Friday I only made one lap running and then walked for the rest of our PT time. I felt like a failure. I thought about it over the weekend and decided I need to push myself harder. So I did.

Tomorrow we do 40 minutes of aerobics, then we run again. Completing the run consists of six full laps. That’s 4.1 miles. That’s the “B” run. Then there’s the “A” run. A faster pace, and I think 8 laps. I don’t know the math on that one.

[ANNE: Vince has the wrong date, but yes there is a date on or around on which all of these things happened, not to mention his bar mitzvah. That was a lot of fun. There were a lot of jokes about “your big BM” and afterwards there was karaoke and he and his friend David inhaled all the helium from the balloons—lord, did that contribute to his future waywardness?]

Vince's BM Vince's BM2

Rainbows and Unicorns

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VINCE

1800 hours. I’m sitting next to my bunk, facing a window that is letting in the most beautiful feeling I’ve had in a while: Sunlight.  Spring has sprung.  Soon we will be spending a large portion of our days outside.  The work they have us doing can be tough, but everything seems a little better when I’m outside.  I’m ready to….

Not sure why I didn’t finish my thought there.  Sometimes we just have to drop what we’re doing and go.

Today we moved the wood pile we created last week to a different spot for no other reason other than work as punishment.  Two hours I went back and forth with loads of wood.  I’m going to be a beast when I get out of here.

—

Ms. Maertz:

Every letter or card we send out has to be started with Mr, Mrs, Ms, etc.  Just policy.

Today I ran 3.3 miles.  I couldn’t believe it.  I’m pretty much the worst in my squad at running, but they were all cheering me on.  I am really good at marching.  You will get to see that at my graduation…assuming all goes well.  September 9th.

Today two new squads came from Moose Lake, so we’re not rookies anymore!

If you do know exactly or approximately the end date of your 6 month ban, be ready to send in another visitor form so you are approved to come to my graduation ceremony.  I keep hearing people talk about staff at Moose Lake banning people for minor issues.  I don’t get it, but I’m not there anymore.

I hope my writing is still entertaining enough for people to want to read.

Love,

Vince

—

[ANNE: I worry that, now Vince is doing well and appears to be on the road to a shiny happy life, people will get bored with the blog. Aren’t horror stories more entertaining?  Then I remind myself that Vince is a real person, not a character in a fictional narrative. I wish he would write more about his inner processes, or philosophize like I do, but he is not me.

It also doesn’t take me long to recall that the real test starts once Vince is released.  Right now, his food, shelter, and clothing are provided.  No bills.  No liquor stores or bars.  No music with drug references.  No women, and all the potential relationship stuff could go with them.  When he’s released, it will be with the clothes on his back and about $400, and every landlord and potential employer asking, “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”  So on second thought, I’ll try to appreciate the present, positive moments.]

Whole Lotta @#%$

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VINCE

About twenty minutes ago we had our first monthly review.  I had high hopes that the worst of our group would be called out.  They were not.

I was pretty much passed by.  Mostly because I don’t get into too much trouble.  They did say that I need to challenge myself and run more.  To do that, I’m going to run on my off day, to see if I can build my stamina.  I’ve made a lot of progress since I was locked up nine months ago, but not enough.

I lost about two pounds and lost 1% body fat since I arrived here at boot camp.  It’s a start.  I can see in the mirror that I’m becoming muscular, toned.  I must work harder.  I will work harder.

—

30 days in boot camp and I can make my bed, iron nice creases into my khakis, and run farther than I ever thought I would.  If you would have asked me two years ago if I would ever run two miles total in my lifetime, I would have said, “Hahahahahahahahaha.”  You get the picture.

The point is, that I—we—are conquering the obstacles that seemed so daunting just a month ago.  We’re even starting to get along.  We still bicker, but what else could be expected, we live in the same room, shower, @&%$, and shave together.

—

My mother brought up a man named Kermit.  She didn’t include his last name or real first name but when I said them in my head, I became angry, which rarely happens.

Yes, I got to see the Red’s [baseball team] win the 1990 World Series right in front of my eyes.  It was cool as hell.  But that was probably the only highlight of that period of my life.

I remember where I was standing, on the back porch of our green apartment building on Dayton Avenue when she told me I had a brother.

Let that simmer.

photo-2

The third of four places we moved to in one year after the Kermit debacle.

—

In that same apartment, I remember getting a dog.  He was a sheltie, and I named him Flash.  He was…special.  Maybe flat out retarded.  And one time oh god it hurts me still to think about it, he ate an entire box of giant chocolate bars I had to sell for a school fundraiser, foil wrappers and all.

I know I don’t remember the correct sequence of events, but I know this: he @&%$ everywhere. He @&%$ outside, he @&%$ on himself.  He @&%$ on the piles of @&%$ that he had @&%$ on himself.  That was just outside.

Hoping he was done, we brought him inside so he wouldn’t freeze to death.  We shut him in the bathroom for the night, and when we opened the door in the morning, I will let my dear Mother take over from here because I am not allowed to use profanity in my writing.  Holy flippiin crap.  Nobody will ever see what we saw that morning.

[ANNE: I don’t care to elaborate on Vince’s dog story above. I am not a dog person, but I thought every boy ought to have one, right? Especially after what I had put Vince through with Kermit. I was wrong.

Vince says he rarely gets angry. Elsewhere in this blog, he writes about “anger coming off me like steam.” I wonder if he’s dulled his anger for years with chemicals, is just now experiencing it unfiltered, and doesn’t even recognize that?]

Easter Bunny, Denied

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VINCE

We were supposed to start running on Wednesday but the weather hasn’t allowed it. We do the step tape for an hour every other day, and we have been speed walking on the alternate days to get prepared for running. As much as I fear running, I have been excited to see how far I can go, but now we have to wait until Monday for our next chance.

Getting in shape has been tough. When I got to St. Cloud, the first time I did anything for exercise was 35 minutes of softball (only five minutes of actually doing anything) and I could hardly walk for three days. Now I can do the step twice, about 55 minutes of constant motion. It’s a great work out. I started using 1 pound weights and I couldn’t believe how heavy they felt afterwards.

—

I’m sitting in a chair next to my bunk feeling drained. I couldn’t estimate how many miles we’ve logged marching and walking to various places to clear brush.

At one point we had to run a half mile wearing our full-length khaki uniform, boots, coveralls, gloves, wool cap, and hard hat. The whole time all I could think about was that I had to take a %$*#)@. Thankfully I made it back in time.

After our weekly haircut we ate lunch, then went out for drill and ceremony for two hours. Marching, counter column march, rear march, left oblique, right oblique. It’s really hard. I’m pretty good at it now, some people in our 16-man squad just don’t seem to care. So we argue, bicker, yell. And in the end we’ve somehow grown closer.

Some of them won’t make it. Some of them will never care about anything in life. So I have to focus on me.

So here I am in my chair. Exhausted, quiet, challenged, and hopeful. Time for dinner.

—

ANNE

My 80-year-old mother wanted to send Vince some money.  She sends each grandchild a card at Easter and other holidays, with $10 in it.  I read off the two addresses, twice.  One for sending Vince the card, another for sending him the money order, which would cost a couple bucks.

She called me later and asked me to re-read all the information because she couldn’t keep it straight.  I typed it and emailed it to her, thinking that would be clearer.

But she sent the money order in the card, so it all came back.  So I explained, again, how she couldn’t send ANYthing with the money order.  She had to mail the card to a different address.  Why?  I don’t know, mom.  I don’t know.  You just have to do it that way.]

Mom n Taisei Vince’s grandma, with her youngest grandson.

A Roof of One’s Own

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VINCE

Ms. Maertz:  [ANNE: I don’t know why he’s suddenly started addressing me as Ms. Maertz instead of Mom.]

Over two weeks in! Things are getting better. Actually a lot better.

Now, to answer your questions.

It’s true that I have to live in a half-way house in Rochester, or with an approved relative in another city, yes.

The reason that we can’t live with another person right away is that we don’t yet have the resources to do so, and while we’re here we don’t have the ability to locate a place to go. Not to mention when we leave, we have nothing. About $400-500, a pair of jeans, and a white t-shirt. (no bed, no lamps, no furniture, etc.)

The no-booze rule is an intensive supervised release (ISR) rule. Ultimately, of course, it’s up to us to maintain sobriety, but there can be no alcohol, drugs, firearms, bombs, etc. in your house while I’m living with you.

There are a couple guys in boot camp that will be in your area when I’m out. Eventually I will be working and will be allowed to move, I believe in as little as 30 days.

Your landlord has to know, by law, that I’m a felon, and my ISR agent will contact them before I’m approved to live at an address. If you own your own place by then it won’t be an issue.

I can start looking for a job on day one. I can start work any time.

The money I get upon my release can pay for a landline. In a lot of cases, agents actually prefer us to have a cell phone because of the tracking ability. I plan on getting a phone right away anyhow for sober networking and job hunting.

Thanks for the comments keep ‘em coming. Let’s get our story out there, it’s a good one.

Everything here is designed to transform every aspect of our lives. Starting with our thinking. I can’t even explain it. It’s better than Florida. How about that?

Love you, mom. Thanks for doing all the typing. I do see a lot of typos. Are they spell checked before they get posted? Also, we do NOT get body cavity searches here, FYI. I’m doing well. I like it here. This is going to change my life.

[ANNE: Typos? The nerve! I pride myself on my accuracy. But then, I have been under a bit of stress lately, which affects my concentration.

About 10 days after I moved to the new apartment, I found a condo I really like. Keep renting, or buy? That is the question. If I ever want to have a decent life in retirement, it’d be good to buy something very modest and try to pay it off. That seems very sensible. However I have to ask myself, “Am I making a $100,000+ purchase just to avoid talking to my landlord about my ex-con son moving in with me?]