37 and a half to life

Who doesn't love a holiday? A day off work (hopefully) to spend with your family and loved ones, good food, fun times! My favorite is Thanksgiving. I love the crisp air of a fall day, the smell of turkey baking in the oven, the excitement for the beginning of a season. What I love most is spending time with my family... corny, I know. My parents might visit from Florida and my brother from NYC. We get to be silly like the good old days. Then come the waves of sadness. They strike me when I least expect them. A joke about the turkey being too dry perhaps... "At least we have food to eat, I wonder if my husband ate today?" I might think to myself. Darn those waves, ruining my fun! The truth is, these thoughts are like white noise in my brain. There isn't much I experience without thinking about him. But holidays have a way of turning up the volume. The most difficult one for me is New Year's Eve/Day. At midnight, everyone kisses their significant other in celebr...

First of all, I do not kiss and tell! I do want to take you inside an actual conjugal visit (aka Trailers) but there's no need to cover your eyes :-). The truth is much more mundane and emotional than anyone could ever imagine. I have to confess that I envisioned a romantic getaway-type scenario. Having no idea of what to expect, I imagined the "place" to be very dark and small, intimate even. In my mind, there would be candlelight and romance. In order to qualify for a visit (Family Reunion Program) we had to be legally married, check. My husband had to meet certain criteria such as, maintaining a clean discipline record, submitting to drug tests, completion of required programs (check, check and check!), just to name a few. Once all of the paperwork was submitted, we waited. Albany gave the go-ahead and we were given a date. That's when the planning began. There was a list of allowed items (food and personal). The list of NOT allowed items was arbitrary and confus...

Any Prison Wife will tell you that a phone call from their husband is a big deal. Some wives are fortunate enough to speak with their husband everyday, and some even get multiple calls per day. This phone call can make or break your day. It all depends on what comes through from the other side. In my current situation, I get three, maybe four calls per week. I look forward to those calls but they are not enough. We get to talk for about 10-20 minutes and the time flies! I keep a mental list of the things I want to talk about, sometimes I even write it down! When the phone rings and I see that it's him, I get excited and start to think about what to say so that no time is wasted. As I answer the call I hear a familiar voice (no, not my husband) announcing that I have a "pre-paid call from ____, an inmate at ______, a New York State Correctional Facility..."The "lady" who precedes the call is also the one who gives you a 60, then a 30 second warning that the cal...

I have received quite an education during my years as a Prison Wife. Each visit is a lesson, an experience added to my collection. Some cliche sayings come to mind as they relate to visitation. I guess you can say that I've had some time to make the connections... Hope for the best, prepare for the worst - It's surprising to see the reasons why some people are denied visitation. The best way to increase your chances is to be prepared. For example, having extra clothing and identification documents in case they (correctional officers) give you a hard time. Getting in is a lot of work! Count your blessings - As sad as it may seem to the average person, for me, sitting at a table having a conversation with my husband feels amazing. Spending time with the one I love, especially when we are both feeling so disconnected, is such a blessing! Sometimes all I need is to hold his hand, to feel his energy. The best things in life are free - Agreed! I couldn't put a price on the...

Visiting someone in prison is a unique experience. I would say it's even unique each time because rules change so often and/or are enforced in different ways based on who's in charge. Visitation rules are open to officers' interpretation, is what I have found over the years. My first attempt at visiting my husband was short of a disaster. I had recently purchased a new-to-me car. It was a Ford Probe; a fast, sporty-looking, very 90's, complete with pop up lights, low mileage (yessss), white car. I placed my 18 month old daughter in the front passenger seat (as was customary and totally legal then) and headed to where my husband said he had 'landed.' With no GPS available, I followed directions to the prison. As I approached the immense, brick building, I felt a pang of excitement in my gut. I couldn't wait to give my husband a proper hug. It had been almost a year since we had truly embraced! I took my toddler and climbed the numerous steps to the visitor ...

In late August, 1994, I would learn the fate of my husband and thus, my own. Leading up to that day we hoped that being a first time offender, the sentence would be reasonable. He had been convicted of 'Sale of a Controlled Substance' (namely, 3.84 oz of cocaine). That didn't seem like it was such a horrendous crime, though we understood it was a crime. Oh, and yeah, there was also that pesky 'Robbery' charge, too. That one was surely bogus; he wasn't there when it happened so he was convicted of being responsible for the actions of others (those who actually committed the robbery). Video evidence showed that my husband wasn't present, it was proof! Lessons were learned during those previous 10 months. One being that NYS Drug Laws (Rockefeller) have different sub-sections and one of them was invoked to substantiate the charge. It was unfair. So here we were, sentence day had arrived. Alongside my young daughter I sat in the courtroom, awaiting the judge...

June 20, 1994 was the first of a five day trial. My mother in law came to stay with me for the week and I was so grateful to have someone to live through the experience with me. My husband was dressed in a pair of khaki slacks, vest and shirt; he looked like himself again. Each morning he was allowed to get into his civilian, free-person costume and each evening he would change back into his green, punitive uniform. The third day of trial was his birthday. He turned 24 year old, but there would be no congratulations, no hugs, no celebration, just hope. Most of the trial is a blur to me. The anxiety I was experiencing was so overwhelming, I couldn't focus on the words being said. What I do remember is the overall message about my husband being a "bad guy." The person they kept describing did not sound like him at all. Had he been half the 'thug' they claimed, he would have posted bail with no problem. Instead, he sat in County Jail for eight months. Time he could...

I was 13 years old when I met the boy that would later become my husband. My family had moved here from Puerto Rico less than two years prior. He was the first "African American" boy I had ever talked to and he thought that was hilarious. In broken English I would tell him all about my newcomer, teenage issues and mishaps and he thought I was funny. He would give me advise and took on a big brother role in my life. Our friendship grew over the next few years and one day we both realized that we had feelings for each other. In 1993 I became a mother. I gave birth to a beautiful, rosy-cheeked baby girl whom I loved from the instant I saw her! Her father was my best friend-turned-love of my life, but ours was tumultuous situation at the time. He was not the boy I once knew, his humor was gone and happiness escaped him. We became strangers. Nine months after the arrival of our daughter he was arrested. The details seem so distant now but the events of that day would forever c...

When I introduce myself to a stranger I always state my name, but what follows depends on my audience. "Hi! I'm Wanda, I am... a daughter, a sister, a 'single' mother of five, an aunt, a college graduate, a teacher, bilingual, from Puerto Rico, Catholic, my son's pancreas, soon to be a mother in law, A PRISON WIFE!" For many years only a small number of people were aware of that last title. I wanted to appear to be as normal as possible. In my mind, having a husband in prison was the farthest from normal. I worried that people would not take me seriously or would think that I was a bad person. Four years into my journey I received a bachelors degree and became a teacher. That's when I really became secretive about my relationship. Fast forward almost twenty four years... here I am, ready to publish my experiences and expose myself to the world (or at least to those interested in reading about my misadventures). I have recently come to a realization; what...