37 and a half to life

Today, my only son enters his teens. Just yesterday he was a baby, now he's a young man!  We named him Justice because we needed some in our lives. The day I came home from the hospital with him I received a call from my husband. He was going on the draft (being moved) because he would be going in front of the clemency board. Clemency... what? I didn't even know he'd put in for clemency, and neither did he. His mother had written a letter to the governor and that's how he got on the list.  I knew that he was excited but there was also urgency in his voice. Usually, people have months to prepare for clemency. He would need letters of recommendation and other documents to prove his worthiness. I sprung into action, calling people to write letters.  Once he was gone to Sing Sing, where he would see the board, I had time to process the grandeur of this opportunity. I imagined him coming home within months, just in time to help raise our son. I was elated when a parole offic...

 This past Christmas break I spent my downtime putting puzzles together. My 20-year-old daughter Tweeted, "why did my mom get me a puzzle for Christmas and she just did the whole thing herself??? I have to laugh." So I was a little obsessed with finishing the Frida Kahlo puzzle, it was so pretty! As soon as I finished it, I took a picture of it and took it apart, announcing to my daughter that all the pieces were there (insert cheesy smile).  Later the same day, my sister's children came over to visit. I asked my eldest niece if she'd like to work on a puzzle with me. She said yes and I quickly grabbed one none of us had ever put together before. It was The Polar Express! We immediately started strategizing and sorting pieces but we didn't get too far. The next morning I got to work on the puzzle, convinced that I'd be done by the end of the day... HA! To my surprise, this innocent-looking puzzle actually took over the rest of my days off, and then some. Just ...

October 21st marked 28 years since he's been gone, but not really gone. I recently found out that there's a term for what I've been feeling all of these years. Ambiguous Loss. I have been doing a lot of research lately, in an effort to make lemonade out of the many lemons I have been accumulating, I am pursuing a Doctorate degree. The reason? To learn as much as possible about the effects of parental incarceration on their children and how to help (as an educator).   God-willing, my husband will be home to see me graduate. And yes, he'll have to call me doctor! I have a lot of passion for learning and even more for educating others. My hope is to continue my journey and help de-stigmatize the prison experience in schools. How, exactly? That's the part of my story that I'll have to create. I am suddenly in a place where I have to think ahead, to look into a possible future. Something that is difficult for me. I'm more comfortable living in the moment, no more...

What a difference a day makes!  On Monday, the day after I was desperately awaiting to hear about my husband, I called the correctional facility. I asked to speak with his counselor, when I told her why I was calling, she transferred me to another counselor because "her computer wasn't up" (whatever that means). The second counselor told me that they don't deal with HIPAA forms. She transferred me to the medical admin. The woman who answered the phone didn't seem to understand why I was calling. She announced that she couldn't tell me anything, I felt like I was in the "Groundhog Day" movie and began to explain all over again. The woman finally said, your husband can sign the HIPAA form when he gets back from the hospital. I shook my head and took a deep breath before saying, "I just want to know if he's OK, now! and by the way, no one ever called me to tell me he was taken to the hospital." To which she responded, "so, how did you...

Everyone is feeling it right now. COVID 19 has taken over our lives and no one has been spared. This pandemic has catapulted the entire world into strange times. This invisible enemy, as many have called it, doesn't discriminate and is among us, making some deathly ill and barely affecting others' health. It may be inside me at this very moment and I don't even know it. That's what makes it so scary, so nerve-wrecking. So all we have to do is stay home. Those of us who don't have to take care of the sick or work at a grocery store or provide any other essential service... we help by staying home. I am working from my laptop; attending and running meetings online. All of the attendees sit in their own square, reminiscent of the Brady Bunch opening , it's kind of comical. I also get to facilitate the home or distance learning that my kids are engaged in. All of them (2nd, 5th, 12th and Sophomore in college) work on their devices and attend classes in the s...

I know, I'm about to say the most cliche thing ever... gray is not just a color but a feeling. There, I said it! Now I'm going to explain why I've decided to be Captain Obvious and talk about something that artists have long been capturing in paintings, poems and songs... the feeling of GRAY. Dannemora has been 'home' to my husband for the past 14 months. It is infamous for the ' great escape ' that took place a couple of years ago. This place sits in the middle of nowhere, near the Canadian border close to Montreal. The nearest town is Plattsburg, which has a college and is populated with younger people and features hotels, stores (WalMart AND Target), restaurants, and even a small shopping Mall. Dannemora itself features Clinton Correctional Facility, which also houses CorCraft . There are houses, a Dunkin Donuts within the general store, a gas station, a post office, and... that's it! This past Thursday I set out to visit my husband. I last saw ...

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...

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 ...

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- ...

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...

My last post was about children, particularly those affected by incarceration. On that note, I wanted to feature another poem written by my husband. It is part of a collection of spoken word poetry he calls 360 Degrees of Thought. Enjoy...  K.A with our oldest in 1993 Our Children Are Our Link to the Future Our children are our links to the future… I said, our children are our links to the future. Small minds doing big time, for believing in fake prophets with slick lines. My truth shines. Do you really want this life of mine? Jewels blind, but look fine blurring the vision of our children that fall behind. I know your kind, sucking blood is your profession; becoming wealthy at the price of our most prized possessions. Check the lesson; the power that you have is the ability to captivate the youth, but instead of speaking truth, three minutes and some seconds free styling in a booth. The damage you cause is having them cemented further in the concepts ...

When someone finds out that my husband is incarcerated there are usually several follow up questions; "how do you do it?, why wait for him?, where is he?, when does he get out?, what about the kids?" The kids are OK, more than OK, great, thriving! One is now married and has her Master's Degree in Education. Another is starting her Senior year of High School, the other three are getting ready for the new school year as a Tenth grader, Third grader and Kindergartener. But it has NOT been easy for sure. I have had to dedicate myself to my family, putting myself second on a regular basis. There have been many sleepless nights, also days filled with conflicting schedules and commitments. Not to mention vacations and weekends spent visiting prison. It takes a lot of planning and sacrifice. We are fortunate though. The support that my family and friends have given us has facilitated our ability to manage (sometimes better than others). Help has come in the form of rides, b...

The Black Lives Matter movement that has emerged as a result of police brutality against black and brown people is nothing new to many. The small world we live in, thanks to the internet and the media, has brought this reality to those who have lived oblivious to the situation until now. Racism is real. My husband has had to endure it his whole life, but more so during his time in prison. I have never had the misfortune of being judged by the color of my skin. I am very 'pale' (as my seven year old likes to say). I have never been racially profiled or followed in a store because most strangers think I'm Italian or Greek, never Puerto Rican... that is, until they hear me speak. I am proud to correct them and furthermore to announce to the world that I am a Black Woman; my ancestors were African, Taino (native) and Spaniard (European). We are one people, and as such, I feel the pain that plagues us when we are discriminated against. Our sons and fathers are dying regardles...