37 and a half to life

I can't wait til Friday. I can't wait 'til summer. I can't wait for school to start. I can't wait for vacation... it seems like we spend our lives waiting for something. When I was pregnant I would count the days until my next doctor's appointment because I'd get to hear my baby's heartbeat and it also meant that I was closer to meeting him or her. Once that baby was born I couldn't wait to lose the baby weight (which never seemed to want to leave me) and get to wear 'normal' clothes again. I couldn't wait to hear the baby say ma-ma and take those first steps. And so on and so forth. I hardly got to reflect on what just took place because I was already thinking about what was to come. Writing down my experiences has forced me to look back and to think about what has occurred and to process what is happening in my life as I am waiting. The waiting for me is the background of my life. As I am moving forward or standing still, no matter

I can hear Mariah Carey singing "All I want for Christmas is youuuuuuu, baby!" For the last month or so this song has hijacked the airwaves everywhere I've gone. Every radio station played it and every Christmas playlist featured it at least once! Resistance was futile, so this year, this song took over my brain... I couldn't escape it. I hummed, danced and sang along to it as I wrapped presents, washed dishes and even while taking a shower (usually my quiet time). The song grows on you!  And then... I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. I want, I want, I want... I guess that's the part about the season that I don't love- that's the Grinch in me, I guess! I think there is so much need in the world and we talk about what we want. I know, 'tis the season for joy and happiness and giving, but I feel so bad for those who cannot be with their families, and they NEED them. I can't help but to think ab

Last night, my husband called and we had a lively conversation. He was in good spirits as we discussed the kids, current events, future plans, etc. It was a normal conversation and then he announced that he had to go. We said our goodbyes and right before hanging up, he said, " I'm proud of you !" Then he was gone. I sat there, phone in hand, thinking to my self, "how in the world, does someone like that exist in such a negative environment?" Actually, negative is putting it mildly. What I really believe it to be is TOXIC. He's proud of me. I should be telling him that I am proud of him !  For staying alive, sane, healthy. It should be the first thing I say to him every time we speak, but instead, he's saying it to me. Wow. He is in hell and yet he finds the way to, not only keep his own spirits up and stay positive, but to bring me encouragement. His actions speak volumes about his character. I have known him to share every last bit of a long awaited p

When I began writing about my experience, my husband asked, "what about me?" "What about you?" I replied. He then admitted that he wanted to be "featured" on some of the posts. I told him I had shared some of his poems, but he wanted to write in a more direct way. It is very difficult for him to put his experiences into writing sometimes. How can you process something while it's still happening? Still, he wants others to know...  So a few days ago he put the following in the mail. He calls it "We Rise Above The Clouds of Deception" Meaning: We have learned to take our pain and turn it into the fuel we will need to move forward in securing a strong and positive foundation for our links to the future (children). This can only be accomplished by internalizing life lessons and blessings. They prepare us for upcoming trials and tribulations and give us a clear perception of the truth. So we see people and things for what they are and not for wha

A couple of weekends ago, my youngest two children and I went to visit my husband. On that Saturday morning, I woke up at 3:30 am in hopes of having everything ready for our trip. I packed not one, but TWO pair of shoes for the diva, bathing suits for the pool at the hotel (kids need to have fun), meds, snacks, electronics, IDs, cash, etc. I got myself ready and, coffee in hand, headed out with the sleepy-eyed kids. We made the 5+ hour drive. Once we arrived, we sat in the hospitality center (a dingy, portable room, posing as a welcome center/waiting room). It was full of people waiting to see their loved ones. We were number 63 so we would be waiting for at least another hour to be let in. Thankfully, the kids were able to entertain themselves with my phone (they have lockers to secure personal items before entering the facility). When our number was finally called, I gathered our items; money for the machines, IDs, pictures to show my husband, then locked up my phone and car keys.

For the past decade or so I have been thinking about how I might turn this experience into action. There has always been something keeping me from being able to give more of myself to anything other than my family. Between sports and other extracurricular activities my evenings have been pretty busy. Throw in prison visits and other weekend commitments and that left me no time for anything else. Then, five years ago, our surprise baby made her debut. It was the middle of October of 2012 and she was the cutest little thing! Everyone loved her right away. And even though she was unexpected she was not unwanted, she completed our family. So, big brother (who was still only two years old himself) was thrilled with the addition and life was pretty good. Then, five weeks later, our world changed when he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It was the worst time of my life. Even worse than when my husband lost his freedom. This diagnosis sucked the joy out of me and I was suddenly drown

It's been a couple of weeks or so since I last wrote. I've been doing a lot of thinking after having a brief but unsettling conversation with my father last week. First, I'll explain how we got to that point...  Following the destructive path of Hurricane Maria, my family moved forward with plans made long ago to celebrate my Titi's 75th birthday in Florida. The occasion took greater meaning when all 9 of my mother's siblings would attend. It had been decades since all 10 had been under the same roof... not to mention cousins and their kids (and in some cases, THEIR kids!) how could I miss that! Family came from PR, NY, NJ, CT... This event had turned into a bonafide Family Reunion!  I traveled by airplane with my 7 year old diabetic son and 5 year old first time flyer. I was nervous because I hadn't flown with my son since he had been diagnosed almost five years ago. I didn't know what to expect since we have to travel with so many supplies and medicine

In recent years I have heard these words come out of my husband's mouth, "you, know I'm damaged, right?" he'll say. I know exactly what he means. He's not the same person he was 24 years ago and not always for the better. He is conscious of the toll prison has had on him both physically and emotionally. When we are on a visit, his eyes are often scanning the room. He is very aware of the environment, noticing things I never would have. If he senses that I'm getting annoyed, he'll apologize and explain that it's about survival. Then he wonders what life at home will be like. I have always said that we will need help, professional help. For many years he declared that nothing was wrong with him and therefore nothing needed fixing and he would not be participating in any head shrinking of any sort! I always stood by my opinion... we are going to need help. Since he has been 'noticing' that he is 'damaged' he has been open to talking

The last seventeen days have been heavy. That's the number of days I spent without knowing anything about my husband. Add one more and that's how long it has been since Hurricane Maria hit my birthplace, Puerto Rico. The sadness in my heart has been unbearable. Not knowing whether my family members were alright; having no way of communicating with my aunts, uncles, cousins on the island was unnerving. Then, not being able to share my feelings with my best friend and worrying about him as well... that was heavy! I had a headache that lasted precisely seventeen days. Today, I'm happy to report, I am headache free! My family has reported (little by little) and everyone is fine. Material items can be replaced, but more importantly, everybody is safe. Puerto Rico was battered by the hurricane. To this day, most of the island remains in the dark and many people have no running water. The conditions are scary. We, on the mainland, see the slow progress from afar. Facebook has be

Amid all of the sadness we have been feeling, collectively, I thought I would share one of many visitation tales that at the time seemed tragic but now make me chuckle. Two years ago, when my husband was "living" among the Adirondack mountains, I made plans to visit him for the day with our 13 and just turned 3 year olds. The previous night (Friday) my nieces and nephew were visiting, so the house was 'lively'! I cooked dinner while entertaining children and also threw together our travel bag for our trip. The bag contained birth certificates, clothes, shoes, snacks, toys for the way, etc. Early the next morning (at about 5 am) I rose up the teenager, picked up the sleeping tot, put her in her car seat, and set out into the dark road. Driving next to an obviously grumpy, sleepy and perhaps angry teen-aged girl is the stuff nightmares are made of. I apologized to her, knowing the sacrifice she was making by even being here, to which she responded, "uh huh!&quo

A week ago, I had the pleasure of meeting a man named Joseph Heath , one of the lawyers that worked for many, many years to help some of the victims of the Attica Uprising. Recently, a book called Blood in the Water  written by Dr. Heather Ann Thompson , was released. It deals with the uprising, cover-up, charges and lawsuits that followed. As part of a series on the Attica Uprising, Mr. Heath was giving a presentation at SUNY Geneseo and I was invited by my good friend and faculty member, Michael Oberg . I was humbled and honored to be among so many intelligent and dedicated people, including the students, who represent our future. My hope for them is that they will learn from the past and not repeat the mistakes of their fathers and grandfathers. It was breathtaking to see them hang on to Mr. Heath's every word, as he spoke about the horrors of the uprising; the torture the inmates endured, even showing us pictures of swollen, bloody faces. I couldn't help but to think abou

Today is Wednesday. The last time I spoke with my husband was last Thursday. My 'wifey' senses were tingling. Something was not right. Last time we spoke he told me that Ben Stiller and his crew were in town, filming a movie based on the infamous escape. The prison was put on lock down and as a reward, everyone was given ice cream. "They treat us like kids," he complained. "But you still ate the ice cream?" I asked in my smart aleck voice. "Of course!" he replied. And that was that. I was hoping maybe that movie was still being filmed, but knowing better than that, I made a phone call. A snarky sounding man asked me for his information and then replied "Well, he got himself a ticket and lost telephone and other privileges for 15 days, that's why you haven't heard from him!" I asked if he could still get visits and he said yes. I breathed a sigh of relief; I had just booked a hotel so I can go see him 10 days from now. I thanked

Most people in NY State (and many around the country) are familiar with the Attica Uprising of 1971.   Although I wasn't even born yet when it happened, I remember hearing about this horrible place called Attica when I was a teenager. Years later I would be visiting said place, with just a vague idea of what actually happened there decades prior. My husband, being inside, heard all about how it happened. It was like a folk tale being told and re-told among the inmates. He has never shared with me everything he knows about the events. As a general rule, there is a lot he doesn't tell me. I imagine that he's trying to spare me the worry that would follow if I knew too much. But I know enough. Attica, 2012 I was 8 months pregnant What I can say about Attica, from my personal experience, is that visiting was a pain, pretty much like everywhere else. The officers that processed the visitors were usually unpleasant and I have many memories of them being quite rude to me-

2015 Last night, my youngest daughter's school held a 'back-to-school' picnic. As I made my way there, along with four children (two un-pleased teenagers, one energetic seven year old and one excited four year old-armed with a stuffed animal and a blanket), my phone rang. It was my husband. I don't even have to look at the phone to know; I have a specific ring tone for his calls. Too many times have I missed a call... that's bad news! So, I answered and explained the current situation. We continued our conversation as I walked towards the picnic. I waved at the Principal, nodded at the PTA lady, mouthed "thank you" as I was handed a slice of pizza, all while talking on the phone. Situations such as this one are part of my life. I never get used to it, though. Truth be told, it's an inconvenience. I know, it sounds horrible! I'm lucky to be receiving a phone call, to hear that my loved one is ok. But the inconvenience is mutual; I am not givin

1995 As many women in their 40's, I've been through my share of style transformations, especially as trends changed over the years. One of my favorite ways to change my look has always been by way of hair. I have had long, blond, dark, shaved sides, curly, straight, with bangs, no bangs, bobs, asymmetrical, and even the infamous Rachel Haircut of the mid 90's. I think it's fun to take a risk and completely go for a different style each time. 1997 The last time I chopped my locks was in January, 2015. The cut was as low as it could have been without involving a set of clippers... it was short! It was also easy to manage; wash and go, that's it. During this time, my husband was going through an especially tough time. He was sent to the box over two hours away. It was another test. We had to re-assess our situation and figure out how to make our relationship work as a new challenge faced us. He was then transferred to a new facility in the Spring. That one

School is back in session. In preparing myself for a new school year I reflected on my experiences as a Prison Wife. I alphabetized my list, please feel free to come up with more words in the comments section. A Absence- Your loved one is not here, he is absent but not gone. Advocate- prepare to speak for him. Calling the facility and sometimes Albany to make sure he is safe and being treated fairly. Anger-  At an unfair system, at him, for putting you through this, at yourself, because you choose to stay and suffer. Attorney- If you can afford it, hire one! B Blessings- Count them any chance you get. They are everywhere you just need to recognize them. C Caring - The only way to get through the tough times. Children - The innocent victims of incarceration. We must nurture them and teach them so that they may not continue the cycle. Crazy- Many people will question your sanity. I am here to reassure you that you are sane, promise! D Dedication- Day in and day out