Tag: prison life

“I Am Grateful , Too”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 31 Comment

“And always be thankful.” – Colossians 3:15c NLT

“Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die. And it is youth who must inherit the tribulation, the sorrow and the triumphs that are the aftermath of war.” –                            Herbert Hoover

Near Menlo, Iowa lies a large boulder with the following inscription on it:

“They lost legs & I walk.   They lost minds & I think.   Sometimes they lost their lives & I live.    I am grateful.”

      The boulder is called “Freedom Rock” and it is painted each year with patriotic themes by Ray “Bubba” Sorenson. This year, he was going to honor his uncle on one of the panels. But he painted a tribute to a young man named Taylor Morris instead.

      I read about this in the May 28, 2012 edition of the Des Moines Register. It was there, on the front page, where I met 23-year-old Taylor Morris.

      In a bomb blast in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan, Mr. Morris lost his right leg at the knee, his left leg at mid-thigh, his right arm at the wrist and his left arm at the elbow. How his major organs were spared is a miracle. But the article states that the young man is determined to move on with his life. He is still a patient at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center near Washington, D. C.

      The article was accompanied by three photographs that brought me to tears and will haunt me for some time to come.

      There is a website established in his name (www.taylormorris.org) as well as one at Caring Bridge. I cannot visit them but perhaps some of you will stop in and offer words of thanks and encouragement to this young man who gave more than any country has a right to ask.

      His mother, Juli Morris, has kept an online journal for her son. Perhaps you can find her and offer her support and thanks.

      Two of the photographs show Taylor as he is today and they will take your heart and squeeze it as you see him working on sitting up with the assistance of a therapist in one and “holding” a water bottle and drinking from it as he lies in his hospital bed in the other.

      The third photograph shows a smiling Taylor shaking the hand of his proud father, Dan, on the day he graduated from Navy training to become an explosive ordinance disposal technician.

      As a father, I can feel Dan Morris’ pride as he smiles at his son and shakes his hand. Dan is wearing sunglasses in the photo. The dad in me thinks it is to cover his tears of pride.

      As a father, I can feel the pain he must now be experiencing for the sacrifice his son made for his country. There is probably anger, too, and, of course, the inevitable, “Why Taylor? Why my son?”

      As a citizen of the United States of America, I only hope that this country never forgets the sacrifice of this young man and all of the others who have died or left parts of their bodies or souls on battlefields in Afghanistan, Iraq or anyone of the countless other places we have found it necessary to send our sons and daughters to settle the disputes of their fathers.

      Apart from the thousands who have made the ultimate sacrifice of life defending freedom in Iraq and Afghanistan, there have been over 1,400 individuals who have lost a limb. Over 400 of them have lost more than one. This is’ in addition to the many thousands more who have been “simply” wounded.

      As an inmate in federal prison, I hear many men grumble daily about their loss of freedom. Perhaps they would jump at the chance to trade places with Taylor Morris.

      I suspect not, however.

      As a human being, I thank God for men and women like Taylor Morris who keep me safe in my freedom, even though I chose to abuse it. I can only say, “Thank you and God bless you and watch over you, Taylor, and everyone else who has served and sacrificed for all of us . . . even those of us in prison.”

      Like “Bubba” Sorenson and millions of others, I am grateful too.

God is my Cellie

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 32 Comments

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”             – Psalms 23:1 NASB

“God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.”              – William Cowper

God is my cellie.

No, I am not talking about that overweight, sixty-something man who snores in the bunk beneath me, silly. That’s Pete. Don’t get me wrong, I love Pete and he’s probably as good a person as can be found with whom to share a sleeping space that doubles as a bathroom as well. My personal habits are – hopefully – no more disgusting to him than his are to me. We don’t argue or irritate each other excessively. We both make an effort to be considerate of the other person’s need for space in an environment where there is precious little of it to let the other person have; and we both retire relatively early.

All of that said, let me turn once again to my other cellie. I am certain there will be some who will be offended at my little attempts at humor in an article concerning God; others will be offended that I am talking about Him at all; still others will blow off anything I say simply because they feel prison converts are a dime a dozen and our motives and sincerity are suspect.

That leaves the rest of you and I do hope there is someone left to continue to the end. No matter the words that I write, for the most part each one is chosen carefully.

Once again, I say, “God is my cellie.”

I am indescribably happy to be able to say that. I am humbly grateful that He did not allow me to enter this place alone. In spite of the relative safety of this particular institution, prison – even this one – is a lonely, scary place. It may not be for the most hardened among us, but for any with the least amount of civility and decency, it most certainly is. I do like to think I have retained a little of both. Were it not for God being close at hand, I cannot imagine what it would be like for me.

Contrary to what many may think, the majority of people who pass the wrong way through these gates of hell-on-earth are not converts to Christianity, or anything else for that matter. There are those living in freedoms who believe that many in prison lay claim to the discovery of God as a way of offering proof of their rehabilitation and their willingness to be involved in something uplifting and beneficial – even absolving to some extent. I would not argue that, for a few, this is the case. But I think the largest number of those seen with Bibles, making the walk to the chapel for services, partaking in Bible studies and participating in prayer groups within the individual housing units are sincere in their efforts to draw closer to the One who can truly help them change.

That said, let me just make the observation that, once a decision has been reached to move closer to God in prison, everything becomes more difficult. It is assumed by many that it is an easy thing to be a convert while incarcerated. The skeptics and the cynics would also throw in the word “convenient.” The simple truth is that, while many attempt to look to God for answers in here, actually making the change from a life of sin to a life for Him is complicated and frustrated by the prison environment, not enhanced by it. The one true benefit to pursuing a relationship with God while incarcerated should be obvious: the time available to spend in the quest for truth, peace and a renewed spirit for those who truly wish to do what is required.

Prison is an environment where the literacy rate hovers around 50% compared to the national average of 97%. The facilities, programs and opportunities to exercise one’s mind and one’s faith follow at a very distant second to those available for exercising one’s body or to entertain, rather than to educate or enlighten. The number of individuals taking advantage of recreational facilities far exceeds those seeking the mental or spiritual advancement of the library or the chapel. The number of individuals watching mind-numbing hours of mindless television; shows that only serve to point out the negative direction the values and morals of this country are taking, greatly outnumbers those trying to build a relationship with God or improve their minds. The number of people using their time to play card games, dominos, chess or role-playing games such as Dungeons and Dragons for hours on end dwarfs the number of those seeking answers that they obviously were not in possession of when they did whatever it was that earned them their passage here.

Those who do attempt to walk a different path than the one that led them here are faced with all of these “opportunities” to use their time differently. The urging of their friends to play ball, play cards, work out or watch TV is constant and vocal. For many, ‘going with the flow’ or ‘following the crowd’ is indicative of the behavior that lies at the root of their anti-social attitudes. Looking closely, one can see the efforts at change begin to falter. For some, being one of the guys is more attractive than being one with God.

Using my time differently than many others does not make me a better person than them. However, using my time to build a relationship with God does make me a better person than I was when I arrived. Unfortunately, even this has not lifted me as high above myself as I want to be. You see, in addition to those legitimate pursuits that can cause one to lose focus, prison life is rife with less-than legitimate pursuits which can cause one to lose sight of the prize of becoming renewed in principles, morals, attitude and character.

Even though we may be working conscientiously to move closer to God and a new way of living our lives, prison is full of “opportunities” to wander onto the wrong path. Some will continue down that path once they have rediscovered it. After all, it was once very familiar to all who reside here. Others will retreat rather quickly and get back onto the new path they were following, apologizing to God and anyone else who will listen in the process. Giving in to temptation is always regrettable but it seems as if human weakness presents no greater disadvantage anywhere than it does in a place like this.

Prison presents countless ways to continue the lives we may have led on the outside. Stories abound throughout the country about gambling, drugs, alcohol, pornography and other illicit activities that can be found within prison themselves, that can keep one at or below the level they were when they arrived here. All of these things and more make moving towards being a better Christian more difficult in prison rather than less. It is true that just as a doctor can be found amongst the sick, so can God be found amongst the sinners. Unfortunately, the devil is here as well, trying to retain those already in his ranks and to add to them if at all possible.

Recently, I succumbed to temptation in my job and was found to be doing something I had no business doing. My job was cold, wet, sometimes hard, but I liked it and it paid well by prison standards. But then stupid stepped in and I was caught removing something from the kitchen that was not mine to remove.

The exact specifics are unimportant. They are recorded as a blemish in a file I had hoped to maintain blemish-free. Suffice it to say that the result was costly. Of course, the highest cost was not the resulting loss in “grade’ that dropped my monthly pay to about $20.00 from its high closer to $100.00, although yes, that does sting. No, for me, the higher cost was the blemish. The higher cost was in the loss of the little bit of trust I had earned and the occasional sign of respect I was shown for the job I had done.

The higher cost was the disappointment I engendered in myself that I could travel so far down the right path and still find the wrong one so close by. The higher cost was in lowering myself to a level I had no desire or need to visit.

The ultimate cost was in needing to ask God for forgiveness after falling into temptation rather than asking Him for the strength to resist it in the first place. It is a comfort that His forgiveness is always available, yet it is an irritant that I always find myself in need of it.

I will offer no excuses, for I have none. There is no one to blame but myself. If I attempted to excuse my behavior by claiming that I simply joined a “game’ -that many others were playing, I would only be admitting to being a lemming headed for the cliff’s edge with all of the others.

I could make light of it and just shrug it off as most are prone to do. After all, did I not just say it was a game? I will resist that particular urge, though, and say instead that what I will do is use the opportunity to continue my efforts at transformation. I will continue to pray, to read God’s Word and to seek his wisdom. I will look for the doors that open when others close and ask Him to point me to the one that best serves His needs. I am certain only good things will come of it all.

That is one of the benefits of claiming God as my cellie.

He will help me get back those things I lost. He will also help me to stay in His “game” and no one else’s. As “I said before,

Pete is a pretty good guy and makes a decent cellie. But God is the best cellie I could ever ask for. And I doubt Pete would have a problem with that statement.

Now, to those who think that it is easy to get close to God in prison, I say, “Think again. It is not easy at all. But it is logical.”

To those who think humor is inappropriate, I say, “Nonsense! God created humor.”

To those who doubt His existence at all, I say, “For 40+ years, I was right there with you! Thank God He didn’t hold that against me when at last I needed Him and called out to Him!”

And to all the rest, I say, “Thank you for putting up with me.”

I would like to leave you with a poem written by Steve Marshall.

It is a prayer, actually, and I thank him for it:

 

A PRAYER FOR CAGED BIRDS

A prayer for lost souls

Locked away

Who gaze through bars to

Greet the day.

And bless the coming

Of the night

When dreams of freedom

May take flight.

With walls as far as

They can see,

Their minds are filled with

All things free.

Watch over them please

Keep them well

And lead them safely

Back from hell.

“Giving A Voice To The Victims: The Voices Of Disappointment And Anger”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the Victims2 Comments

 “Shame and dishonor were his flags, and self loathing was his constant companion.”     – James Lee Burke; “Feast Day of Fools”

“Remember it is a sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it.”                               – James 4:17 NLT

Many of us serving prison sentences for not using our freedom in a way that honors ourselves and our families have foolishly – and selfishly – exposed those we love to the same shame and dishonor we have branded ourselves with. We have also made them victims of the sins we have committed, while at the same time making them unwilling and unwitting accomplices to our crimes.

In addition, we have forced them to shoulder a disproportionate amount of the burden for our wrongdoing through simple guilt by association. While we languish in the purgatory of prison, their lives continue in the real world. While our lives are held in a static state of suspended animation, their lives move forward on a daily basis. While many of us try to explain our behavior to ourselves, our families are left trying to explain it to the world in which they live.

A great many men I meet have strong family support. While some have lost everything and everyone that used to make up their former lives in freedom, many more still have their families and friends solidly behind them offering words of encouragement and support.

They are to be commended for that and we who are the recipients of the genuine goodness of their hearts should all take note that the debt we owe them can more than likely never completely be repaid.

While they function unwaveringly as brave defenders of our tarnished honor and smile encouragingly for us, let those of us who are blessed enough to have individuals who are that strong fighting on our behalf, never forget that we have disappointed them. We have let down those who love us; those who need to look up to us; those who reach for us when they are uncertain, afraid, need help making a major decision or just tying a shoe.

In many cases, anger accompanies the disappointment, but far too often the anger is kept from those of us whose behavior triggered it in the first place. The consideration for the feelings of those locked out of society’s sight is another attempt by those who love us to “protect” us and to try to shield us from unpleasant realities that we created.

While this is a touching display of the lengths to which love will go, this is not what is needed.

What is needed is for those who are disappointed and angry to make sure that the one who causes them to feel this way is aware of it. Of course the offender must also be reassured that he is still loved and still supported. But the negative emotions created must not be borne only by the incidental victims.

What is needed is for those incarcerated to reflect on the disappointment and anger they have caused in others and use it ‘as a catalyst for change within themselves. This will ensure that whatever caused them to violate the trust of their loved ones and the laws of society will not be repeated.

What is needed is for society to recognize that the system we use to punish those who commit transgressions against it also punishes everyone who is a part of that individual’s life, so we must exercise caution that the prosecution of an individual does not become the persecution of a family, as is so very often the case.

What is needed are prosecutors and judges who see not just the offender but the twenty-year-old daughter of that offender who takes an overdose of drugs or alcohol and lays down on the side of the road in what turns out to be a suicide attempt that is foiled. Her pain over what is happening to a father she loves momentarily overwhelms her, and this is how she reacts to his absence. (This happened to the daughter of someone I was incarcerated with.)

What is needed is an awareness that another young woman was successful in the taking of her own life because she felt the stigma and restrictions placed upon her father by the sex offender registry were hers to bear as well and the burden proved to be too great. (This I read about in the paper.)

What is needed is for society to hear the cries, see the tears and share the pain of a young girl whose father is in prison and cannot attend her school play to share in her moment of happiness and view her in the spotlight of recognition. (This happened to a friend of mine’s daughter.)

What is needed is for society to experience the anguish of a loving grandmother who closes her letter with “I’m starting to cry now so I’d better end this letter.” (I read thise words written to another inmate.)

This, the most powerful nation on earth, must understand that locking up millions of individuals has a profound effect on tens of millions of innocent lives. There are better ways of dealing with non-violent offenders than locking them away and perhaps the citizens of this country should demand this from their elected officials.

This, the most powerful nation on earth, must understand that a year taken from a family can never be given back, so it is incumbent upon society – in the interest of true justice – to find other ways of correcting behavior.

The handing out of multiple year sentences for non-violent offences as if the years were a handful of Halloween candy must stop.

God Himself no longer visits the sins of the fathers on future generations.

Just who do we think we are to do exactly that?

“Prison, Part II”

On By Tony CassonIn Part II1 Comment

  ” ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ ‘Lord’, he said, ‘I want to see!’  “  Luke  18:41  NLT

  “I said to the man at the Gate Of The Year, ‘Give me a light that I may go forth into the unknown.’ And the man replied, ‘Put your hand in the hand of God. That shall be to you better than a light, safer than a known way.’  ”   Britain’s King George in a New Year’s message to his people at the beginning of World War  II

       I put my hand into the hand of God as I lay on the shower floor that was covered in my own blood. I have clung tightly to it ever since.

      I told the Lord that I wanted to see myself the way He sees me and He has lovingly helped me to heal the affliction that clouded my vision. He has allowed me to see myself finally as His child, His servant, His warrior.

      Today, I am able to look in a mirror without seeing the evil that had inhabited my body, consumed my soul, and transformed me into something less than God intended. I still see the scars on my neck, evidence – and reminders – of that bloody battle that was waged for my life. Looking at them, I am reminded of the pain that I had caused to those who loved me. Looking at them, I am reminded of the disappointment of those who counted on me to be a better person than I was.

      I am also acutely aware of how close I came to leaving this life as the broken, sinful person I had allowed evil to make me. But being the good Father that He is, God heard my cries of anguish and my plea for forgiveness. He saw me reaching out for His hand and it is because He is who He is that I am forgiven, that I am loved, and that I am able to sit here in this prison and consider to myself to be one of the most fortunate and blessed people on God’s earth.

      I recently passed the midpoint of my sentence. I look back in awe at the power of God as I examine how He has helped me to use the time here to build a relationship with Him that enables me to see in myself what He has always seen and use that person to serve Him and to glorify His name.

      I have tried to do for myself what no one else can, and what I would be unable to do were it not for the One who stands beside me, keeping vigil and offering guidance. Sin brought me to the brink of death. God caught my hand and pulled me back before I tumbled headfirst into the abyss and deposited me here. With God’s help, I have remained positive, tried to be productive, and tried to help myself and others understand that this should be viewed as the beginning, and not the end. Because of these things, I am able to look back and say, “Thank you, Lord. Now help me look forward and continue on exactly the same path.”

      As Paul said to the Romans, “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord!” (Romans  6:23  NLT)

      I almost paid that high price. I am thankful that I was allowed one last chance to accept that free gift which is valuable beyond mere human comprehension.

      While this is far from being a horrible prison, any prison is a terrible place to be. However, to live without family, friends, and freedom does not have to change us for the worse. With God’s help, we can use the time to become better than we ever were before.

      One day I will be somewhere else. For the moment, I will continue to hold the hand of God and walk through Prison, Part II.

      I thank you all, and may God bless you and your families.

Battle Lines – A Song

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 31 Comment

 

When I walked  out the door, The Devil was standing there waiting;

With his dead, icy eyes He stared at me, anticipating.

I returned his cold stare  And I asked what he wanted to do;

He said I think you know  I have come all this way just for you.

I looked straight at him And I said I must ask you to leave;

You are powerless here  For it’s in Jesus Christ I believe.

He just threw back his head And he laughed then he looked back at me;

When I’m finished with you Your faith will be gone you will see.

(Chorus)

The lines have been drawn

 It’s to Jesus I’m sworn

To the Lord I’ll forever be true.

I will fight to the death

To my very last breath

I will never surrender to you.

With the battle lines drawn I’ve taken my stance, I’ll not waver;

With the armor of God The odds are all stacked in my favor.

The ice in his eyes Was replaced with the fires of hell;

I have been there before I remember the pain very well.

We draw back our swords And we circle to start our slow dance;

My faith is so strong That the evil one hasn’t a chance.

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“Giving a Voice to the Victims: From Victim to Victor”

On By Tony CassonIn Victims - Their Stories2 Comments

“Be ashamed to die until you have one some victory for humanity.”  Horace Mann

“I wait quietly before God, for my victory comes from Him.”   Psalm  62:1  NLT

      There are victims of child sexual abuse and there are survivors. And then there are the victors.

      It is evil that causes people to sexually abuse another person. It is evil that allows someone to steal a child’s innocence and claim it as their own. In a battle with evil, God is the only ally that provides us with any hope of victory. It is God and God alone who can provide the strength and love needed to enable a person who is confronted by evil to stand up and draw the battle lines and move confidently to victory.

      In today’s superficial world, things that mean nothing at all are glorified and the One who means salvation to the entire world is relegated to an afterthought. Many people are uncomfortable when the conversation turns to God for they have never fully relied on Him and experienced His power. When we decide to make a stand with God against the evil that walks this earth and preys on the innocent, we are able to confidently draw a line in the sand, look evil in the eye, and say, “Bring it!”.

      In this next installment in the story of her personal war against the evil that tried to consume not just her innocence, but her very soul, her identity, and her life, our courageous young friend moves from being a survivor to being a victor as she draws her own battle lines.

Her story continues:

I’m Possible                                                

     I’m a fighter. My story involves four options; to give up, to give in, to give it all I’ve got, or to give it all up to Him. The way I see it, to give up is to give in. To give it all I’ve got can be selfish, and to give it all up to Him seems impossible. But I have to stop there; even the word “impossible” is contradicting because it says “I’m Possible”. The fourth option is the reason why I’m alive today. Not alive in a physical sense, but alive in spirit. I’m a fighter. I’m alive. I’m possible.

     To give up. My mindset for the longest time after the abuse. If I failed at being perfect at any task, I’d give up right away. My life seemed to lack purpose. To me, my body was physically there to be used as a sex object and nothing more. To give up was easy as I walked through life with no self worth and no value – except for what my body was intended to be used for. Most times I had myself beat before I even had the chance to find the strength inside to not give up. In complete honesty, I thought daily of giving up totally. To give up on life seemed way better than the hell I was being forced through. But something, no not something, someone kept me going. I fought an every day battle of even wanting to push forward to the next day. My body was a temple for God. Intended to be used to honor Him and the life he has blessed me with; but how could I not give up on that when my temple was destroyed, not by choice? How was I supposed to not give up when it seemed as if He gave up on me? I fought. By giving up, would believe in the lie that God did this. That God gave up on me. To give up would be letting Satan win. To give up would be to give in to the torture I was put through. I’m a fighter against that lie. As I got older, I wanted to make it evident that I would not give up, I would stand and stand strong. To give up was not an option.

     To give in. During the abuse I was made submissive. In every act done or manipulated into doing, I gave in. It was my fault, I was guilty, I was blamed for being too easy. I gave in to those lies. It later affected my everyday tasks and daily routines. I’d be undeceive, unable to make decisions for myself, and easily conformed into the person people wanted me to be. I had no backbone. I couldn’t stand up for myself. I gave in to all the lies of believing I was ugly, worthless, guilty, not good enough, and so much more. I fought every day to build courage. To build confidence to not give in; like I was a branded cow. I was only good for producing one or two things for my “master”.  Every time I would give in, that something, no not something, someone saved my cognitive thought process and fought for me. I fought to find strength to develop my own identity, one separate from the one I unwillingly gave into. To give in was weak.

     To give it all I’ve got. Well that’s just unreasonable. Sure, ultimately it is my physical and mental strength to give anything I do my very best. But that is not MY doing. This is exactly why I failed myself on so many occasions. I believed it was all me. As a Christian from a young age, I wondered how could my strength to fight this every day battle come from God, when he did nothing to help me when I was crying out to Him silently in fear? The pain I felt was mine not His. The tears I cried myself to sleep with, fell from my eyes, not His. The body that laid there absent-minded was my six year old body NOT His. The fear I felt, my feeling, not His. This phase I went through was all me. It was my battle, my emotions, my body. Every day I gave it all I got. Admitting this I could slap myself for but I will give it all I’ve got because and for Him. To give it all I’ve got can be selfish.

     To give it all up to Him. I didn’t give up because, He persevered. I didn’t give in because He fought for me. I gave it all I’ve got because He gave me strength to fight for the next day. The previous phase I went through was the biggest lie I could ever lead myself to believe. Sin was committed against me, Christ’s love was used for me. I wasted so much time blaming God for allowing the abuse to happen to me. But little did I know at that time, that God did something to protect me because He kept covering me with restored purity and new spirit to face another day. Every bit of pain I felt, broke His heart too. The tears I cried, He paid the price for by the blood that covered our sins; even the sin committed/used against me. The body that laid there on so many accounts, was His temple. He knit me together in my mother’s womb. My body is His. Its intended to worship Him, made perfect in His image. He too felt every wrongful act done against me. The fear I felt was heard through my cries but I was too hurt to hear his gentle whispers to “be still, know that I am God, and that He was there for me”. I’m a fighter because He fought for me. Now its time for me to fight for Him. To give it all up to Him is not impossible. I’m Possible.

     Since I eventually sought after God and talked to Him about what he already knew, I found a renewed strength to fight back, reclaim what was lost, Become me.  I’m possible. I am able to look my perpetrator in the eyes and genuinely say I still love you. I am able to forgive him. I am able to tell myself that I am beautiful. I am able to have hope in a bright future. I am able to love unconditionally. I am able to stand up for my beliefs. I am able to be imperfect. I am able to fight for a better tomorrow. I am able to talk about this and spread awareness. I am able to do all these things because the great “I AM” is alive in me.

     I will not give up, because that is not an option.

     I will not give in, because that is weak.

     I will not give it all I’VE got, because that can be selfish.

     I will give it all up to Him, because it is possible.

     I’m possible.

     Thanks to my hero, my Dad, I was reminded that the only option is the fourth. Fight because He fought for you.

      This month is Child Sex Abuse Awareness month. I wanted to share this side of my story because it is something worth fighting for. I wanted to take the opportunity to look at God’s prevailing power in such a nasty part of our society and the statistics that are unfortunately true. There is good that can come from this. For anyone who is struggling with being a victim, you are not alone. Fight for another day, because I promise you, its worth it.

He is with you.

God is good.

I’m possible. 

You can be too.

Give all up to Him.

Apparently, I am my Brother’s Keeper and Other Prison Oddities

On By Tony CassonIn Inmates - In Their Own Words1 Comment

 By Steve Marshall

      When one first sets foot inside the stark confines of a prison or jail, the first lesson to be learned is that this is an entirely different world. Everything one has learned up to that point about to live life is placed on ho and a whole new set of instructions comes into play.

      For example, here at Oakdale, we take our meals in a dining hall comprised of about 50 four-man tables. When you finish your meal and prepare to leave, you knock on the table. The others seated with you respond by each providing an answering knock.

      During my first week here, I asked someone the meaning behind this odd custom. I learned that it was a throwback to a time when inmates were not allowed to speak during meals. (This situation still endures at some higher level facilities.) When someone prepares to get up from the table, his knock is meant to convey the following message: “Excuse me. I am getting up now. This only means that I am leaving. I have no intention to attack you.” The answering knock implies: “We understand. Thank you for not attacking us. We appreciate it. Good bye.” This custom is one that I have not adopted. Instead, as I rise, I usually say “Have a good day” (or evening.) This seems to work just as well in conveying the message that I do not intend to beat up anyone.

      Another timeless custom is the “cool” prison nickname. This is often employed s a defensive measure. For example, if one is named Marvin or Ronald, this does not serve to keep others at bay nearly as effectively as “Killer” or “Bruiser.” However, in practice, I have noted that some of the nicknames tend to defeat their purpose by turning out to be . . . well I’ll just say it, kinda silly.

      In my unit alone, we have a “Boo-Boo”, (shades of Yogi Bear) a “Ya-Ya” and silliest of all in my opinion, a “Hot Sauce.” I have thus far resisted the temptation to address him as “Mr. Sauce.”  You see, “Hot Sauce” sports the tear-drop tattoo. A single teardrop under one eye is meant to convey that the wearer has killed someone. “Hot Sauce” has a whole splash of them so I have opted to avoid him altogether and remain off his radar.

      These customs and many others like them are generated among the inmates themselves. But occasionally, I come across one that has originated with the prison staff.

      Last year, our unit counselor came upon an entire trash bag full of hooch. (“Hooch” is a prohibition-era term for illegal alcohol.) One inmate in my unit had created the forbidden elixir from pilfered oranges and the yeast from bread. You should know that most people in the prison population turn into McGiver complete with the ability to turn a paperclip into a Gatlin gun.

      While I have never imbibed, I am told this “hooch” ferments for only a week or so in a trash bag, so I am surmising that it does not have the woodsy tang  of Jack Daniel’s that has steeped for twelve years in a specially treated oaken barrel. But I’m guessing that it gets the job done nevertheless.

      Anyway, the unit manager assembled us all and announced that our beloved microwave ovens were being removed until further notice. I looked around to see who was going to raise his hand and object to the idea of punishing over two hundred men for the actions of a single individual but no one did. The microwaves were not returned for another six months.

      About a month ago, another bag of “hooch” was found, another meeting hastily assembled and once again, the microwaves were gone. This time, I raised my hand to ask the obvious question and the unit manager replied, “You are all responsible for policing your own unit.” This was news to me. Foolishly, I had assumed that my job was to follow the rules but now I was being told that I was expected to enforce them as well. The inmates refer to the Corrections Officers t here as “the police”, so it was a fairly natural assumption that they would be the ones doing the policing.

      I have not been successful in obtaining any information as regards what specific steps I need to be taking should I encounter anyone manufacturing “hooch.” Do I beat him senseless? Do I merely threaten to do so? In either case, I would be in violation of the rules and sent to the SHU (Special Housing Unit or as it is lovingly referred to by one and all here, THE HOLE.) Do I snitch on him? Well, if I do that, then I am the one who will be beaten senseless. Do I shake my finger at him and say, “Bad inmate”?

      Yeah, that’ll work.

      So I am left to ponder the imponderable. The only answer that I am left with is that the staff is saying with a wink and a nod: “Take care of this dude however you want. Just don’t let us know about it.” From my point of view, the easier course is to just do without the frickin microwaves.

      I cannot, in the course of a single article, begin to cover all the ways in which prison life differs from that of the free world. That would take an entire book and a very fat one at that.

      Perhaps one day I’ll write it.

      But for now, I am content to observe at a distance as prisoners bump fists rather than shake hands, hold extended conversations at the top of their lungs with others on the opposite side of the compound, or smuggle ten-pound rump roasts out of the kitchen concealed in their underwear.

      What do I know? It’s their world. I just live in it.

“TWO”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 33 Comments

      “Time is the most valuable and the most perishable of all our possessions.”   John Randolph of Roanoke

     “For everything there is a season, A time for everything under Heaven.”  Ecclesiastes  3:1  NLT

       April 1 marked the passage of my second year paying the price for my own personal instance of freedom not used well. I feel that I have used these two years of freedom denied better than many of the preceding years of freedom itself.

      It has been two years of discovery, growth, and spiritual transformation that I am thankful to God for and that no one can take away from me. I have peered deep into myself, cleaned out all of my inner closets and, while I am far from perfect, I at least can say that I am a happier, nicer, better version of the man I was when I walked through the gates of this prison. I am humbly grateful to God for the spiritual cleansing He has provided and for the faith and hope He has firmly planted in the very core of my being for a future of His choosing.

      The future will not be easy, of course, but it cannot be harder than the past, which I made unnecessarily difficult through a decades-long search for myself wrought with myriad wrong turns and hard lessons that didn’t need to be. If I had opened my eyes, my heart, and my mind and accepted the direction of God a long time ago…….if only……if only…..if only……

      But I did not, and I am not sad; I am not full of regret; for the past is the past and it shall not be repeated in my future. There is still plenty of time to plant, to harvest, to heal, to laugh, to embrace, and to love – and perhaps all of these things can now be engaged in with honesty, integrity, and a freshness of spirit, mind, and heart.

      I may have a lot of baggage, but I have dumped out most of the contents and left them behind, so it doesn’t weigh much.

      I have God on my side and, even at this late stage in my life, I have to agree with Mick Jagger and say, “Time is on my side.”

      Oh yes. It most certainly is.

“THEIR words about HIS Word”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 22 Comments

 “For the Word of God is alive and powerful.”    Hebrews 4:12 NLT

      There was a time in this country when the Word of God was a part of daily life; when His Word provided guidance and inspiration in our schools; when our civic leaders turned to His Word for wisdom; when it wasn’t offensive to believe that God meant something in this country and publicly professing a belief in Him and His Word was not an impingement on someone’s rights.

      In fact, there was a time in this country when it was considered a good thing to know God’s Word and to look to it for help in navigating the stormy seas of daily life.

      Somewhere along the line, a few people who didn’t know God and didn’t believe in Him or His Word, exercised their right to speak – and everyone else fell silent. The Supreme Court listened, though, and over time has ruled repeatedly to remove the single best source of moral guidance the world has ever known from public buildings, schools, courthouses – all public places where the love of God and the guidance and wisdom found in His Word is needed the most.

      The Supreme Court of this great land has forced the removal of God’s Word from all public places where someONE might be offended by the humility it should bring to man and the inspiration it is capable of providing. This has all gone on while that same court tries to insist that a nation NOT guided by the Word of God was what the founding fathers of this country intended from the very beginning.

      Somehow this country has allowed our government, and the Supreme Court, to make laws and put forth legal rulings that favor the rights of one over the country as a  whole, and it is simply not possible to govern effectively – or fairly – in that manner. We have allowed a few misguided, disgruntled voices to insist that their rights somehow supersede all others’. We have allowed the vast majority to be silenced so the few can be heard. In doing, we have tried to ignore and deny that which simply can NOT be ignored or denied no matter how high the court is or the reasons it gives for its ill-advised rulings:

      That this country was fought for, and founded, by men who had GOD in mind and his WORD in hand.

      But don’t take my word for it. Read the words of those who founded, fought for, and have led this country as they offer THEIR words on HIS Word:

      “It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible.”    George Washington

      “The highest glory of the American Revolution was this: It connected in one indissoluble bond, the principals of civil government with the principles of Christianity.”     John Quincy Adams

      “The God who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time.”   Thomas Jefferson

      “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”     John Adams

      “As to Jesus Of Nazareth, my opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think the system of morals and his religion, as he left them to us, is the best the world ever saw, or is likely to see.”   Benjamin Franklin

      “Had the doctrines of Jesus been preached always as pure as they came from his lips, the whole civilized world would now have been Christian.”   Thomas Jefferson

      “This is all the inheritance I can give to my dear family. The religion of Christ can give them one which will make them rich indeed.”    Patrick Henry

      “The Bible is the cornerstone of liberty.”   Thomas Jefferson

      “I have lived, sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth – that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid?”    Benjamin Franklin

      “Men must be governed by God or they will be ruled by tyrants.”    attributed to William Penn

      “I have sworn upon the alter of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.”  T. Jefferson

      “There is no solid basis for civilization but in the Word of God. If we abide by the principles taught in the Bible, our country will continue to prosper.”  Daniel Webster

      “This is a book worth more than all other books which were ever printed.”  Patrick Henry

      “Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves and, under a just God, cannot long retain it.” A. Lincoln

      “With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive to finish the work we are in.” A. Lincoln

      “I have only to say that it is the best gift God has given to man.”  A. Lincoln

      “I know there is a God, and that He hates injustice and slavery. I see the storm coming and I know His hand is in it. If He has a place and work for me – and I think He has – I believe I am ready.”  A. Lincoln

      “This nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, that government of the people, for the people, and by the people shall not perish from this earth.”  A. Lincoln

      “The Bible is the Rock on which this republic rests.”  Andrew Jackson

      “Hold fast to the Bible. To the influence of this book we are indebted for all the progress made in true civilization, and to this we must look as our guide in the future.”   Ulysses S. Grant

      “Conscience is the authentic voice of God to you.”  Rutherford B. Hayes

      “”The more profoundly we study this wonderful book, and the more closely we observe its divine precepts, the better citizens we will become and the higher we will see the destiny of our nation.”  William McKinley

      “A man has deprived himself of the best there is in the world, who has deprived himself of this: Knowledge of the Bible. When you have read the Bible, you will know the Word of God because you have found the key to your own heart, your own happiness, and your own duty.”  Woodrow Wilson

      “Our doctrine of equality and humanity comes from our belief in the brotherhood of man through the Fatherhood of God.”  Calvin Coolidge

      “The sum of the whole matter is this: That one civilization cannot survive materially unless it is redeemed spiritually.”  Woodrow Wilson

      “With a good conscience our only sure reward, and with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God’s work must surely be our own.”  J.F.K.

      “Inspiration has been the keynote of America’s phenomenal growth. Inspiration has been the backbone of America’s greatness. Inspiration has been the difference between defeat and victory in America’s wars. And the inspiration has come from faith in God, faith in the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount, and faith in the belief that the Bible is the Holy Word of God.”  J. Edgar Hoover

      “This country can not afford to be materially rich and spiritually poor.” J.F.K.

      All of the men quoted here were very different from one another in many ways, as most people are, but they were very much alike in their love of this country and their love of God. There also seems to be agreement among them that in order to have decency, respect, morality, kindness, truth and freedom, the Word of God must be a part of this country and the lives of the people in it.

      Like it or not.

      Agree with it or not.

      I am just sharing with you THEIR words on His Word.

Thank you.

“Giving A Voice To The Victims: The Strength Of A Survivor”

On By Tony CassonIn Victims - Their Stories2 Comments

“We conquer – not in any brilliant fashion – we conquer by continuing.”                        George Matheson

“For I can do everything through Christ who gives me strength.”    Philippians  4:13  NLT

      My dear friend Richard Roy asked me quite some time ago what I hoped to accomplish in writing the “Chronicles”. I can’t remember my exact answer at the time, but I do know what that hope is today. It goes far beyond anything I imagined in the beginning, but I suspect that somewhere at the center of my being has always dwelled the answer that I am only now able to articulate:

      I want to help people understand that the world is in terrible pain and it is the responsibility of each and every one of us – as children of God – to work to stop that pain. As children of God, it is our responsibility to love one another; to help one another; to encourage one another; and to protect one another.

      When another child of God is hungry, we must feed them.

      When another child of God is homeless, we must give them shelter.

      When another child of God is lost, we must help them find their way.

      And when another child of God is in pain, we must comfort them, even if it means sharing in that person’s pain.

      As our survivor of child sexual abuse continues her story and shares the very personal pain of her abuse with us, I would like everyone following her incredible journey to give something to her in kind: a word of encouragement; a word of understanding; a word of support; a word of compassion.

      Show her that you hear her pain and are as numbed by her story as you are impressed with her strength, her courage, and her determination to be a survivor.

      Here, then, her story continues:

 My Identity: The Transition from Victim to Survivor

      Everyone has an identity. It is who we are and how other people know us by. Unfortunately, tragic events such as sexual abuse can change our identity; can change who we see ourselves to be, and who we strive to be. Majority of the time it changes us for the worse and as I say “us”, I mean ‘we the survivors’. Setting aside the battle of forgiving the perpetrator and praying for their repentance, being a survivor there’s a whole other battle we have to face that deals with no one else other than ourselves.

      After what was done to us and against us we lose our identity. That part of me (specifically) was taken from me at the young age of six. It’s been a battle ever since to find who I am because one single man had the power and manipulation to strip me of my own free will to grow up and decide who I want to be. To the age of twelve, each time something happened my identity was lost . . . further and further into the hands of darkness… Satan. The evil acts done against me acted as a cause and effect type scenario. The cause being the wrongful act done against me and the effect being me seeing my identity with every word associated with everything bad, negative, and wrong.

      My identity quickly shifted from an innocent little girl who liked to play sports to a girl and eventually a woman who would walk around dressed as much as a boy as possible . . . ashamed of who I was, disgusted with what I saw in the mirror. Feeling ugly, guilty, low self-esteem, low self-worth, carried no value, was indecisive, submissive in everything, strived for perfection, and if it was not perfect, anything I did was simply not good enough.

      My identity lied within the hands of the devil because I lived in fear. My identity was lost in the hands of an older man and forced me to live two separate lives. No one knew what was happening until I was 18; for thirteen years I was forced to rely on the identity of two separate lives. Do you know how confusing that is for a young teenage girl? Someone who is trying to appear confident, pretty, fit in at school, excel in sports? All the while pretending that her identity isn’t lost, but consumed by a great wave that caught her in the undertow?

      Stripped of confidence. Something every girl needs in order to carry her head high and shoulders back. The prime time for people to find their identity, something learned in multiple psychology classes, is during their adolescent years. During that time my confidence as a woman was dead. It no longer existed. Again, it lied within the man who took my innocence, and stripped me of my childhood. And every time I saw him any ounce of confidence that I even felt running through my veins, vanished. My identity was that of stolen innocence and stripped of confidence.

      Damaged goods. The biggest identity crisis I have to face as well as any other known survivors and victims. The ailing thoughts of questioning, what did I do to deserve this? How bad of a person am I to make someone want to take everything from me? A time of identity where I should be founded on knowing who I am, rapidly turned into a time of identity of consistently questioning myself and my worth to me and others around me.

      Sense of empowerment. When my perpetrator did everything he did, the amount of times he did, every time I lost power in who I was. My character was developed early on by the power slowly leaving my body, only to be filled with weakness. Strength no longer visible, turned into passiveness. My identity yet again skewed simply due to the wrongful actions of one simple man. What we do as a child, effects how we develop as an adult. A single soul distorted, an identity lost, all because of a soulless sinful act by a perpetrator.  

      I’m not expressing the effect of identity to force people to realize the harsh reality of this traumatic event, but instead to let other know out there that they are not alone. These feelings of sense of loss in belonging, worth, and knowing who you are is not identified in the hands of the sinner who did the wrong, but instead an identity that lies within Christ.

       “When you were dead in your sins, you were not set free from the sinful things of the world. But God forgave your sins, and gave you new life through Christ” Colossians 2:13-14. Our new life – our lost identity – is restored in Christ when sin is brought from the darkness. Our identity is nailed to that cross.

       “And you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority” Colossians 2:10. If my identity is in Christ then the sense of power is restored because what I lost to sin is regained through the ultimate power, Jesus Christ.

       “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who are baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ” Galatians 3: 26-27.  Of all those things stripped of me as a child, with my newfound identity in Christ I am reclothed with his richness, no longer stripped away of anything.

       “You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness” Romans 6:18. The only bonds of identity left to have are those within Christ. The abuse made me a slave to negative thoughts and feelings. Abuse that chained me to living life as damaged goods, a life finally set free with newfound confidence and value in Christ. A life now filled with the bondage of His righteousness and love.

      I once saw myself as someone who was undeserving of love and unable to love in return. However, the more I placed identity in Christ, the more capable I am of allowing people to love me and being able to love others; especially the man who placed this battle in my heart in the first place.

      It was a hard transition, and I still fight every day with it, but the more my trust is in Him the more my identity is made new and made in Christ. Fuck the devil. I am no longer lost in his sinful nature but have found a renewed and beautiful identity… in Christ Jesus. I was a victim of Satan, but now am a survivor in Christ.

       As a survivor, with strength, courage, and confidence I remind you, you are not alone, and it is never too late.

            End “Identity”

     Tony follow-on Post:   I can only tell this formidable young woman that I am honored that she has chosen this space to share with others her very private experiences. She was fortunate in one area, though, in that there was no photographic record of her abuse. Thank God for that. However, while I run the risk of bringing further condemnation down on myself and others who are guilty of ‘just looking at pictures’, let me make my own thoughts on this subject perfectly clear:

      While child sexual abuse exists without child pornography being involved, there is NO child pornography without a child being sexually abused. Each and every photograph of a child being forced, coerced, or persuaded to pose nude, in sexually suggestive positions, or in actual sexual situations is a visual illustration of that child’s personal nightmare. It is a permanent record of that child’s loss of innocence and identity – in most cases by someone he or she is supposed to be able to trust.

      I read somewhere that the federal sentences for possession of child pornography were set by congress to be very tough so that they would be publicized and serve as a deterrent. I daresay that strategy has failed miserably and has caused more damage than it has done good.

      Perhaps a more effective deterrent would be to publish the stories of the nightmares lived on a daily basis by victims of child sexual abuse. I would suggest that reading stories such as the one we have all just read might cause all but the most heartless individuals to give pause, step back, and reconsider any questionable behavior they may be indulging in or considering.

      This world IS in terrible pain and its children are the ones hurting the most. We can’t make all of the pain go away, but we can certainly try.

       Please join me in applauding this young woman and the strength of other survivors just like her.

      For whatever tiny bit of good it may do, I am truly sorry.

      I thank you for your time.