Resetting My Life Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Prison

On February 6, 2013 By Tony CassonIn Inmates - In Their Own Words3 Comments

by Steve Marshall

First, let me stress that the title is a joke. I couldn’t resist the temptation to parody the 1964 classic film, “Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.” In truth, I love prison about as much as I love the bomb.

Actually, this is about how I arrived at the unexpected realization that I accept being a prisoner and embrace the fact that I am where I need to be. This is the story of how I arrived at this surprising crossroads.

When I was arrested on April 15, 2009, it was a sudden and immediate wake-up call; a punch in the gut that informed me that my life had gone seriously off the rails. Like many people in a similar situation, I became painfully aware ‘that I had lost sight of my moral compass ‘ and that my spiritual cup was bone dry. I tried to address the problem by joining a traditional Christian church. But with each’ passing Sunday, I realized that, for me, this was not a comfortable fit.

You see I am, by definition, an atheist. Most Judeo-Christian theology strikes me as magical thinking. My life is informed by science, logic, provable fact and natural law. Having said that, I must add that I have the greatest respect for the beliefs of others. Whatever gets us through the circuitous maze that we call life and provides us with strength, wisdom, comfort and a sense of direction is ‘aces in my book. Let’s face it – no one has the facts. All we have is what we believe to be true. In that sense, each of us has his or her own personal truth.

So where does an atheist go for spiritual enlightenment? In my case, the answer lay with the Unitarian-Universalist Church. You see, the U-Us have no dogma of their own. In fact, they offer classes in the world’s religions, urging us to seek what makes sense to us. Take something from Christianity, ‘something else from Buddhism, add a pinch of Judaism or a dash of Hinduism and let simmer. It is, in effect, “Build Your Own Theology.” The principle goal and purpose of Unitarian-Universalism is to lead us in the direction of becoming better people. I knew after attending my first service that I had finally found a spiritual home.

But when t came to be locked up in a’ remote Southern prison, I discovered that they offered no Unitarian-Universalist services. In fact, they had never heard of either faith (the Unitarians and the Universalists merged in the 1960s), even though both have existed for hundreds of years. So what was I to do? How was I to continue this spiritual journey?

Happily, I found more than one person in my circle of remaining friends who were Unitarian-Universalists and were willing to download the sermons of U-U ministers from a number of different churches and mail them to me. I keep them in their own envelope and withdraw one each Sunday to read and digest. I have come to think of myself as “A Congregation of One.” Someone very close to me (a U-U, of course) has even started a blog with that as a title, posting excerpts from the letters that I write after reading each sermon.

Most of the sermons provide interesting and engaging food for thought. But occasionally I’ll come upon one that is a real life changer. Such was the case on Sunday, January 12, 2013 when I read a sermon titled “Want What You Have.” My first reaction upon seeing that title was that I was probably not going to connect with this sermon’s message. After all, what I have is three and a half more years of living in a federal prison. Who could possibly want that? Well, never judge a book by its cover nor a sermon by its title.

This particular sermon was based on the works of Rev. Forrest Church, the former minister of All Souls Unitarian-Universalist Church in New York and a religious scholar of some renown.

As I began to read, I was informed that “Rev. Church had written an essay which bore the title “Want What You Have” when he was in the end stages of his life, suffering from terminal cancer. I was taken aback with this news as I stopped reading to consider how anyone could advance such an idea – want what you have – when what he had was a virulent disease that was killing him. I read on and soon realized that I was myopic in my grasp of Rev. Church’s message. His thesis challenged me to look at the bigger picture and see that what I had was more than just a life in prison. What I had, in fact, was an unparallel opportunity to learn and grow.

When my life deteriorated to the point of leading me to become a convicted felon for the first and only time at the advanced age of 65; the one thing that became blindingly clear was that I was in serious need of a mid-course correction. My problem was so serious that it would require much more than a simple fix. I needed to have my entire life reset.

In order to achieve a reset, I needed to go back to square one; to lose my home, my family, all of my possessions; my freedom itself.

I must confess to the fact that I had become a master of the dubious art of distracting myself from any meaningful contemplation that might result in my becoming a better human being. I had my giant screen television, an endless stream of movies and my beloved iPhone, which ensured that I would never again have to endure another nanosecond of boredom. I had the Internet to take me anywhere I wanted to go, including the most degrading and debasing places possible. All of these things conspired to sap away my basic humanity. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone.

The biggest loss, of course, was my marriage and the love and esteem of people who meant everything to me. Some of those relationships survived; others did not. Some of the people whom I loved to the depths of my soul are lost to me forever. But a reset can’t always be pretty. It can come with a very high price tag. It doesn’t happen in a day, a week” a month or even a year. It takes time, patience, attention and a fierce desire to be a better person than I have ever been. I finally have the time and motivation to focus laser-like on that goal. The seeds ‘for this reset were sown the moment I first stepped into the U-U church while I was still under house arrest. The work has continued at a steady pace ever since.

I have almost reached the midpoint in the six and a half years that I must spend in federal custody. I know to a certainty that I am already a better man than I was on the morning of April 15, 2009. But I still have some distance to travel before I will be who I want to be – the man I always thought I was. That’s who I want to become.

I am a work in progress.

I am grateful for the time, energy and motive to become that man. That is the immutable gift that has been given to me.

So. Do I want what I have?

Absolutely!

“ALL IN THE FAMILY”

On October 12, 2012 By Tony CassonIn All In The Family, Inmates - In Their Own WordsLeave a comment

By Anonymous

“Good night, Sweet Prince.
May a chorus of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
William Shakespeare

Tony Casson has written eloquently in this space about the American mania for incarceration and the many ways that it affects both those who are locked up and those who love them and have been left behind to fend for themselves. So I thought it might be fitting that I write about my own experience being cut off from my family.

I am originally from Southern California and moved with my wife and son to Little Rock, Arkansas in 2007 to be closer to our grandchildren. My daughter and her family remained in California as did my brother, sister and nephews.

After I was arrested in 2009 and sentenced early in 2010, I was sent here to Oakdale, Louisiana, even though there are prisons closer to both Arkansas and California. The Bureau of Prisons claims that they recognize and support the importance of family in the rehabilitation of inmates and for that reason, they maintain a policy of locating prisoners within 500 miles of their families. Since Little Rock falls within that radius, the BOP is technically adhering to policy.

However, not long after my arrest, my wife announced that she would be divorcing me. (That divorce was finalized on September 25, 2012). She has never visited me since I was locked up. My son has moved back to California, so effectively I have no family left in Little Rock. Since coming to Oakdale, I was visited by my daughter once in September 2010. My sister visited in February 2011 and my first wife, the mother of my daughter, came from Colorado to see me earlier this year. Those are the only visits I have had in the nearly three years that I have been a prison inmate.

When I first arrived here, I inquired as to how I might obtain a transfer to FCI Terminal Island in Southern California where I might be closer to my daughter, my brother, my sister and nephews. I was told that I had to remain here for 18 months before any transfer request would be considered.

As soon as that year and a half was up, in November of 2011, I filed for the transfer. Owing to a series of bureaucratic foul-ups and a change in staffing, my request languished in a desk drawer for two months. Finally, in January of this year, my application went to the BOP and was denied on the basis of overcrowding. I had heard that many such requests were being turned down for that reason, so I had enlisted the aid of a friend on the outside to monitor the census at Terminal Island on the BOP website. Six months prior to my application, there were 1,128 inmates housed there. During the week in which my application was denied due to “overcrowding,” the count stood at 1,054. I was told I would have to wait for another year before I could reapply. I was disappointed, of course. But it wasn’t the end of the world.

Seven months ago, my brother informed me that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer. He began a series of aggressive chemotherapy treatments, though the doctors had pronounced his situation “dire”.

I know if I had still been a free man, I would have been on the first available flight to California to be there for him; to help him through this excruciating experience in any way I could for as long as necessary. So my first reaction was anger; anger at myself for having put myself in a situation where I could not act on my instinct to go to my brother; anger at the Bureau of Prisons for refusing my request for spurious reasons. Thanks to them, I would never see my brother again.

I write these words at 9:19 pm on Friday, September 28, 2012. Less than ninety minutes ago, I was informed that my brother had died at 4:45 this morning. My nephew had called the chaplain’s office at 10 am, only to be told that the chaplain was “in a meeting.” He called again at noon and was told that the chaplain was still unavailable. My nephew asked that he be permitted to leave a message for me. I got the message eight hours later.

I am raw. I am distraught. I am profoundly angry. But I have no place to put that anger except on these pages.

When I knew the end was near, I wrote some words for my nephew to read at his father’s service because the federal prison system does not allow us to attend the funerals of our loved ones. I called my brother six days ago and read my words to him. Since they were written to him, I thought it fitting that I share them with him while he was still able to hear them and so I did. He thanked me and we shared an emotion-filled moment together. It turned out to be the last time I would get to spend with him. I don’t think he would mind if I shared those words with you here:

TO MY BROTHER

It seems impossible that you are no longer there. You’ve always been there. From the first second I slipped into this world, you were there – my big brother. When I travelled a winding and often dark road as a child, you were right there with me, sharing both the laughter and the sorrow; the smiles and the tears; the triumphs and the pain.

Even when time and distance separated us, you were still my brother and the bonds that were forged early in our lives held us fast.

What I will carry with me always is that you were a good and decent man. In my estimation, there is no better thing in this world that anyone can be.

No one in this life makes all the right choices, but you always aimed for that lofty goal. When, as a single dad, you found yourself unable to provide your sons with the level of care and structure you wanted for them, you made certain that they were cared for by someone who loved them every bit as much as you did. The fact that it was the right decision is borne out of the reality that they grew to manhood with the same qualities of gentle kindness and innate decency that you carried throughout your life.

It is one of the great regrets of my life that I cannot be there today with the rest of those who have loved you, sharing in the celebration of your life and the grief over your passing. And so I send these words in the hope that you are present in the spirit and bearing witness to the outpouring of love for you that is well earned and deserved.

I believe that the life energy that inhabits us all and that leaves us at life’s end is recyclable. If I’m right, you’ll be back – and so will I and so will everyone here today. It will be a whole new party and we’re all invited. Until that time, rest well, my dear brother. I love you – now and always.

“Unnecessary Harm And Confusion – Fast And Furious, The Sequel”

On October 5, 2012 By Tony CassonIn Fast and Furious, Letter to "Our Leaders", Volume 31 Comment

“For this lawlessness is already at work secretly, and it will remain secret until the one who is holding it back steps out of the way.” – 2 Thessalonians 2:7 NLT

“For my part, I think it less evil that some criminals should escape than that the government should play an ignoble part.” – Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Olmstead vs. The United States (1928)

Attorney General Eric Holder said recently that a 471-page report by Inspector General Michael Horowitz made it clear that he took immediate action to stop the tactics used in the seriously flawed “Fast and Furious” gun-walking operation once he learned about them. In fact, according to the September 20, 2012 Wall Street Journal, Holder denounced those who were “so quick to make baseless accusations that turned out to be without foundation and that have caused a great deal of unnecessary harm and confusion.”

The “unnecessary harm and confusion” that may have been caused is nothing compared to the totally unnecessary harm and confusion those 2,000 illegal weapons Holder’s employees negligently allowed to fall into the hands of dangerous criminals will cause to untold individuals and their families.

When will this nation learn that anytime those who are charged with upholding the law place themselves above the law and employ tactics that border on criminal acts to catch individuals in criminal activity that they created, the public winds up paying an exorbitant price? No matter what lofty goals were envisioned; no matter what eloquent explanations are given, placing 2,000 “mostly variants of AK-47 rifles” into the hands of men predisposed to use them is an act that I feel confident saying Justice Holmes would classify as “ignoble.” And that would be if he were being beneficent.

For any agent of the United States government to promote illegal activity to combat it goes far beyond being “ignoble” and approaches an act that teeters on the edge of criminality.

The congressional probe of Operation Fast and Furious was led by Senator Chuck Grassley of Iowa and Rep. Darrell Issa of California. Both expressed “outrage and indignation” over the incident and called on Mr. Holder to “hold people accountable.”

Jason Weinstein, a top aide to Assistant Attorney General Lanny Breuer, resigned from the Justice Department on September 18. Kenneth Melson, former ATF Acting Director, retired from the Justice Department on September 19. The ATF, according to the Journal, said it would “use the report to pursue disciplinary investigations which could result in firings or other administrative sanctions.”

Perhaps Senator Grassley and Representative Issa can now be persuaded to “express outrage and indignation” regarding an even more “seriously flawed” operation being conducted by the Justice Department. I refer to the ongoing efforts to ensnare those who would look at child pornography. I say “seriously flawed” because the current approach to solving the problem of the spread of child pornography, can never achieve results other than negative ones that cause ‘unnecessary harm and confusion.” These results include the totally unnecessary incarceration of tens of thousands of individuals; the effective destruction of their families; and – most important of all – the inadvertent aiding in the distribution of child pornography not only to adults but to children as young as 11 years old. Eleven years old is the average age at which children are exposed to Internet pornography and, sad to say, if one can find pornography, one can find child pornography.

At the Reform Sex Offender Laws (RSOL) National Conference in early September in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Senator Cisco McSorley of that state said, “I am sick and tired of politicians who won’t take a stand on controversial issues.”

Perhaps Senator McSorley can get together with Senator Grassley and Representative Issa and stand up to do the right thing, which is to demand that the Justice Department and Internet Service Providers move immediately to end the “unnecessary harm and confusion” that this preventable pandemic causes in America each and every day. The victims suffer; the families of victims suffer; the families of those incarcerated for viewing these images suffer; those arrested suffer and society itself suffers immeasurably.

Given the fact that much of what transpires today is preventable, I am not sure that “harm and confusion” even begins to come close to describing the avoidable carnage wrought by another “pattern of serious failures” in this tragic chapter in American history. More jail time is not the answer.

More people in jail is not the answer. The answer is to eliminate the images; to stop them from entering this nation’s homes in the first place; to use available technology to prevent, not promote illegal activity.

Justice Holmes also heard another case in which he made a comment I find particularly relevant. The case was Schenck vs. the United States (1919) and it was a famous one that concerned an individual’s right to free speech. Justice Holmes said that the Constitutional right of free speech did not give an individual the right to stand up in a crowded theater and shout “fire”, creating a panic.

Any time discussions are entered into concerning the blocking of anything on the Internet, the subject of free speech emerges. Let us consider the words of Justice Holmes in “Schenck”: The question in every case is whether the ”words used are used in such circumstances and are of such a nature as to create a clear and present danger that they will bring about the substantive evils that Congress has the right to prevent.”

In this case, child pornography constitutes “the words.” The “clear and present danger” to this nation by child pornography can hardly be disputed. The “substantive evil” that child pornography brings into this country’s homes is not only the right of Congress to prevent, it is Congress’ duty.

Let us hope that Mr. Grassley, Mr. Issa, Mr. McSorley or any of the other men and women elected to serve the people of this country stand up and address this problem in the right way.

They have the power to lock the door on child pornography. And they must.

“Talk To Me”

On October 3, 2012 By Tony CassonIn Inmates - In Their Own Words, Volume 31 Comment

“The heartfelt counsel of a friend is as sweet as perfume and incense.” – Proverbs 27:9 NLT

“Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.” – John Milton

I have never addressed the subject of the comments of my readers. Or the lack thereof, which is more of the impetus for this little blurb than those I do receive.

First, I want to make sure that you all understand that I do not actually post any of these articles myself. My beloved son, Anthony, my beloved brother-in-law, Larry, and my beloved friend, Diane are responsible for that. I cannot go online and see anything, but your comments are passed along to me and I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to write them. Even those few, (thank goodness) that have not been favorable, I do read, so please write them.

They will all be posted by one of my “editors” unless they are suspected of being “phishing” or presenting a danger to others’ computers. While comments critical of my point of view will get posted, any that are simply hateful invective most assuredly will not. And most definitely any that tell about how an article may have helped or affected someone are welcome.

I am generally a very upbeat, positive, forward-moving individual who doesn’t need to be verbally stroked. Okay, I’m a liar. Stroke me, please. Rub my literary tummy and scratch behind my metaphorical ears. Say anything, but say something, for when people are silent, situations such as those facing this country today are allowed to grow and alter the course of tens of thousands of lives, dangerously and permanently.

To those who have taken the time to offer support, encouragement and even disagreement – I thank you.

And for those who may be wondering, Diane is not my wife, sister, mother, aunt, cousin or other relative. She is just a lovely person who makes her opinions known. I do not pay her. (I should, for all she does. However, I am but a poor ward of the government). And if any of you are feeling guilty for not speaking up, you can make it up to me by sending me a birthday card. I will be 59 on October 25th and 59 cards would be nice.

So let’s see – if all my readers and all of my family and all of my friends send cards, that would be… ummm… plus six, carry the one… okay! I’ve got it! I would be short only by about 42 cards. But what the heck!

Only gold is golden. Silence is simply silence.

God bless you all.

“I Am Grateful , Too”

On June 19, 2012 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 June 12, 2012 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 May 17, 2012 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 April 30, 2012 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 April 20, 2012 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 April 19, 2012 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.