Dear friends,

Over the past few days I've been overwhelmed by the deluge of cards, letters, email & Facebook messages for my birthday. The loving and caring thoughts you all sent me lifted me out of the funk I was in. I've been floating on that cloud all week. So THANK YOU all so much! I will do my best to reply to all email messages and letters.

I'd like to acknowledge these additional letters/cards which arrived since my last update: 

Alice G, Virginie J, Sally F, Konstanze, Kathy I, Elizabeth C, Andrew P, Judy Y, Sergio L, Jojo H, Casey C, Monique & Michel, Lynn R, Ed B, Esther B, Anne Marie J, Campbell M, Robbine G, Lisa H, Andrea D, Allen H, Kim H, Mark K.

Although they do not allow us to hang anything on the cell walls, I carried them around with me, and shared a few of them with friends.

I also received two very touching presents from a couple of friends in here: a beautiful handmade wooden cribbage board and a poem entitled "Swing," which I will post later in this letter. So it turned out to be a wonderful birthday. And I'm grateful to be alive and healthy for another year. I am grateful for all the wonderful blessings that still befall me, despite being behind prison walls.

I achieved a small milestone last week - I passed my Horticulture Pesticide Exam (with a 96%), which means I will be certified in the State of Texas for the next 5 years to be a commercial pesticide handler. I really do not have the least bit of interest, but it is one more option for me, wherever my future takes me. In a few weeks we'll also be taking the "Master Gardner" exam - another State exam which will carry certification for working in the Gardening/Landscaping business. I could see myself working P/T in a nursery since I enjoy plants/flowers so much. At the very least I'll have more knowledge with which to tend my garden when I'm home.

My Horticulture instructor refers to me as the "hippie" since I am from Austin, and, as we all know, there are only hippies there, LOL. He's only half teasing me because I'm sure he also respects my strong stance on environmental conservation. (He's from Austin too.)

A few people expressed concern that my last letter sounded less optimistic than previous ones. I appreciate your concern but please don't worry - it's just part of the way I process this experience. Besides I'm learning that it's best to accept, and not run from or be in denial of the darker moods, as long as I don't get overcome. They always pass. And I often learn something.

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I'm discovering that there are quite a few inmates here that do quite a bit of writing. This shouldn't be too surprising considering our circumstances. Many famous writers throughout history have spent some time in prison. We are driven to write for many reasons - partly, to give our friends a glimpse into this unusual world. We also write to reflect on our lives, much like a journal. Or we may just write when we want to get something out. It hurts less when you put things into words and you acknowledge the pain.

So I'd like to introduce you to a few of the talented writers I've met behind these prison walls.

First I I'd like to share a poem that my friend Brian (the ex-history prof) wrote in honor of my birthday:

It's called "Swing"

 1.
Slide trombones joust
Ellington saxes
    blue,
rhythmic jouncing
Basie band Stompin'
Jumpin'
    at the Savoy
    at the Woodside,
And Ella,
Ella
is sorta swell
  (a fine thing
  her basket
  green and yellow).

 2.
 The floor
turns under
treadling feet.
Pendulous dancers
swaying, touching,
spinning, hands
   flouncing.
Shimmy shoulders shake.
Heads and hips
like flywheels,
   stepping in
   and out, releasing -
 warp and weft. 

3.
Shuttle flying,
striding like
Oscar Peterson,
   skeining
time and space.

 4.
 Piano pedaling,
Ray Brown walkin'
   the bass -
   walkin' and talkin',
   feathered breaths
resonant. Super
string theory
vibrant, mellow
fingers dripping
peach marmalade
(a sweet jam),
a lively expiration,
willing and joyous
and now.

   - Brian Butler (Bastrop FCI)

This poem really hit me deep. I get pretty choked up whenever I read it. You're welcome to share it with anyone, but out of respect, please be sure to credit the author.

Another talented writer here in Bastrop is Steve Wilson. He has been on top of the world, and sunk to the depths. And he's been putting his life experiences and writing talents to good use by writing a blog and sharing it with many friends on the outside, much like I do. He writes about love and life, pain and regret, experiences in here, and on the outside. He's traveled to 81 countries, so he brings a worldly perspective. Steve has a unique style, which is sometimes like prose. You can check out his blog at: stevewilson777.blogspot.com.  Two of my favorite pieces are: The Power of Regret, and Love in the Rubble.

We also have inmates with other unusual "talents".... Meet Sean. Who does the "monkey dance." You ask, what is this new dance craze? Climb up to almost the top rung of a 3-story bunk bed. Then jump up and down frenetically while imitating the sounds of a monkey. It helps if you have a big round belly that jiggles while you jump. If you're picturing this, you have just experienced the colorful sights and sounds of prison life for a brief moment :)

Since Sean will be getting out in about a week you may be lucky enough to experience this live, in person!

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A question was asked of me: How do we meet new friends here?

First of all, you have to keep in mind that we're around the same people 7 days a week and, if they're in our unit, then 24/7. We all seem to figure out who to gravitate towards. It's just an instinct one develops here. Tough guys/bullies/gangbangers find one another. Educated/sensitive guys find one another, religious guys, etc.

But people suddenly disappear as quickly as they appear. Without any notice someone can be packed up and moved out - into the "hole," transferred to another institution, or sent home. Enjoy your friends but don't get too attached to anyone, is the lesson here.

Did you know that Santa's elves work in prisons? Just step into our Building Trades class and you'll see over a dozen elves, dressed in their khaki prison finest, making little wooden toys for those good little boys and girls :) You'll see checkerboards with red and black painted wooden checkers, trains, cars, and rocking pigs (they're cute, really). I think it's a wonderful way to put our time to constructive use.

I plan to take Building Trades next year, so I can be a prison elf too.

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I hope I didn't offend any of you poker players out there with my poker commentary in the last letter. It was aptly pointed out to me in a letter from a poker-playing friend - the game itself is not the culprit. In fact, after playing a few times when visiting a friend in SF, I was inspired to organize a few games myself. I am well aware it has much redeeming value. I only meant those comments to apply to the context of prison and how it fits in here.

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I know it is often said that we learn from not only from our mistakes, but also from our adversaries. I am beginning to understand how the many trials and challenging moments we are confronted with here in prison can be our teachers. There are so many more opportunities to be around uncaring, crude, loud, and hateful people. On the outside we can choose to avoid these kinds of people. Here we can't get away from them. We might even live with them! Or take orders from them.

Yet, I see this as a way of learning patience, tolerance, and compassion – easier said than done. I often get angry or indignant when I see bullying or hear verbal abuse or am the object of abuse or rudeness. But then you try and see those people as human beings, and that they too are carrying around pain and suffering. Perhaps they had harsh uncaring childhoods. Then you begin to see them through different filters. Like I said, prison is a unique set of circumstances for opening one's mind. It's a choice I've decided to make.

A few favorite quotes, sources unknown:

"When we're open we let go of our opinions and enter a larger perspective"

"You can (also) find meaning in your life that relates to being, not (just) doing"

Three birthdays to go! Happy holidays to one and all. 

Bill