February 20, 2012
My dear lady, you are so overdue for me to pour my heart
out. Yes, the shoulder still aches some
but it’s much better. I should have
never tried that stupid exercise.
The weather is still mild, chilly but comfortable enough
when I crawl under my blanket. I’m not
complaining. I’d much rather this slight
chill than the sweltering heat of the summer.
Unfortunately, the next major lockdown should fall right in the hottest
part of the summer. I’ll endure that
when I get to it.
So far we’ve been locked down since the seventh and we
probably won’t be done until the fifth of March. Yeah, because of the warden, it takes him a
month to do what should only take two weeks, then they don’t find half of the
phones or knives. It’s just going
through the motions. They already shook
down my cellblock though, so I’m alright.
Still have food, paper, books…
My biggest pain has been this Viking that I live with. This dude hasn’t brushed his teeth once.
Not one time. But it’s not his
breath that bothers me. His body odor
is….unreal! He sleeps wrapped up in his coat. It’s not that cold. He sweats for 9-10 hours, sometimes more,
then pops from under the coat smelling like spoiled cabbage and onions! Not cool.
I’ve been tempted to take that coat and throw it out of the cell. Been biting my tongue. I want to ask how he does not smell that
rank, putrid funk. Seriously, it’s got a
four foot reach, Don’t laugh, it’s
bad. You know how wild animals
smell? That musty, wild, overbearing
stink used to warn other animals of their presence? It’s like that. He’s just a little boy, though. Lord bless him. Like we’ve become accustomed to saying,
prison is not supposed to be pleasant, all the more reason to get out and stay
out. I’ll leave this to the so called,
gangsters and funky dogs.
The writing is coming along.
Not forcing it, just letting it flow.
Really, it’s good that you are so busy.
Also been working on recipes.
Wish that I was where I could try them and tweak them to perfection. How does a marinated grilled chicken breast, stuffed
mushrooms, red onions, Monterey pepper jack and Colby cheese, lettuce, beefy tomatoes,
thin sliced jalapenos, sliced avocados, two crispy slab slices of bacon,
chipotle salad dressing, honey mustard on grilled sourdough (with a teaspoon of
the chicken breast drippings spooned on the breast before closing the sandwich)
sound? With a serving of seasoned yam
fries and pickles on the side.
Honest to God, I cannot wait to get out of here, run the sun
up, shower, work all day, come home, experiment, test my recipes, photograph
the finished products, then feed my neighbors in exchange for feedback. I hate being out of practice, out of the
industry.
More and more, I’m considering making the move the Hughes unit
to go through the college culinary arts course.
Of course, I love my job now and to leave would break the old lady’s
heart. I’m tired of moving and
readjusting, starting over. I’ve earned
a reputation as a gentleman here. Then
more than likely, after I complete the course, Beto will want me back to cook
for them and I do not work for slackers.
This food service department sucks.
I want free reign and nurturing of my talents. We’ll see.
I should have started writing earlier. I had every intention of writing you one of
those good, long cards on the table letters but I’ve got to sort of rush this
on so I can make sure that it goes out in the morning. These officers don’t do much and they don’t
want to do the little that they do.
Mainly, what I wanted to say was that I love you! Sometimes, I may not say it enough, but I need you to know that you’ve touched my
life in so many ways and all of them positive.
It’s hard to put into words.
You’ve filled so many voids in my life, played a major part in bringing
me out of the doldrums that I was lingering in.
There truly must have been an angel by my side…I can never than you
enough!
I was reading A
Sparrow Falls and I stopped to think about all you’ve done for me. You are
my angel.
Also, I know you are swamped, but I want you honest opinion,
do you think When Hell Freezes Over
is good enough to continue and follow through?
I have other stories, but I’m torn between finishing something and
starting something fresh.
Everybody keep telling me to push the first one, but I still
feel that it would need too much editing, too much cutting to make it
respectable. It’s good….it’s just too
raw and I don’t want to go that route, not when I can do better.
You opinion means a lot to me. And it’s not that I’m in a rush to get
something printed, but I feel the need to complete something. I’m sitting on several short stories and
about twelve started novels.
The letters to my children continue to be positive. Some days it’s just too hard to write them,
but other days I just open up and go.
The meal you described sounded mouthwatering! Mmmm! One day.
I’ll have to send you this recipe I cut out of a magazine for a pork
roast. It looks delicious.
Africa is in your sights, huh? So cool!
I know you guys are going to have a blast.
Speaking of Africa, it seems that each Wilbur Smith book
gets better. I really liked this last
one, but I was so glad when Dirk Courtney died, although the deaths of Ruth and
Sean hurt me deeply. I’m preparing to
start Birds of Prey, perhaps tonight.
Well you know you are in my heart, in my thoughts and in my
prayers!
Love,
ESSAY - Understanding Autumn
Let it go.
No, really, let it go…because I
have.
And what good does it do for us to
hold on to our mistakes once we’ve learned our lessons? Understand. Understand that I indeed tortured myself,
clutching the profound stupdity of my errors to my soul with the white, bloodless
fingers of my regret, replaying every minute of detail of the “what was” and
grievously mourning for the loss of “what could have been.”
And then…and then…when at last it
seemed I’d reached my end, a message from God sought me out through a
friend. Psalm 37, verses 8-9 said that
“anger and worry” were a waste of my time.
So I gave Him my problems and I gained peace of mind, of the kind that’s
so cleansing that I laughed out loud and clear, didn’t care who was listening,
didn’t care who may hear. With a smile
ear to ear, I knew that I had grown, and in order to grow, one must set free
their wrongs, shed them like golden-brown leaves from a tree, as the seasons
bring change…autumn lives within me.
You would have to be me…to see what
I saw…to feel what I feel, unblemished and raw.
For love is not meant to keep secret and hidden, it too should be freed
and uncovered, unbidden. So I did what
my heart said, for my heart knows no rules, to put boundaries on love is the
doctrine of fools.
If love is a crime, forever I’ll be
imprisoned, criticized for compassion, ridiculed for my vision. Don’t you see the division of the body and
soul, how we’re taught to love less and less as we grow old? Like the first bitter winds of winter…hate
dwells where once was…and cold fills
the void in men who’ve long lost love.
I refuse.
Yes I choose to love you, and love
him, and love her and love me, and love they and love them! I will swim on love’s currents in the ebb and
the flow, and soar past the boundaries that my heart doesn’t know. I’ll live as God sees fit, not by man’s
hindered plans. And if ever you’ve loved me, surely you understand?
Understand that I’ve changed, and
for the better, because where there once was so much hatred, now there is only
love. Where there once was resentment,
now there is contentment. Where there
for too long were problems, now there is potential.
Do not hold it against me that I
still “feel” even in this place of bricks and stone, iron and rust, disgust and
mistrust. Instead, be joyful that I
still “feel” in spite of it.
ONE
