Summer Jaynes, who is now serving a prison sentence in a medium-security prison, wrote me a letter recently. She's struggling. She's been away from her three children for a few years now. And prison is a rough context. She asked me to listen to Eminem's song, "Beautiful." She says, "Try to listen to it please. Tell me what you think. I feel just like that song all the time." I wanted to share the song and her words with all of you. I recommend just listening to the song, not watching the video, because the video slants the song to be about the city of Detroit, but Summer is clearly hearing other things in the song.
p.s. If you want to write Summer a note, just leave a comment (or email me) and I'll get it to her.Thursday, April 21, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
My World
by Summer Jaynes, currently serving a sentence at the Rockville Correctional Facility
I look around, and what do I see? Cages with many different faces, some are reading, some are crying, some are spaced out, thinking of their past.
These are women in prison, all over Indiana. Do you think people will miss them? Some are gay, some are straight, some turn gay for the stay because they are so lonely. They fight for no reason, they just needing some kind of drama in their lives. We are isolated from the "real world." We make our own world inside these gates. In here, our past, present, or future don't really matter any longer because we're stuck stuck in this world behind the fences.
I have a bunky; we all do. I wonder what she's here for, how much longer does she have? Do I dare ask? No, because who gives a rat's ass. The judge wants us all to change, wants us to be better women, but how can we? There are no classes. If we're sick, they shake their heads and say, "too bad, take aspirin." They don't care, as long as we're out of their hair...
So what would I say to all of you on the outside looking in? Don't turn your back on those who have sin.
I look around, and what do I see? Cages with many different faces, some are reading, some are crying, some are spaced out, thinking of their past.
These are women in prison, all over Indiana. Do you think people will miss them? Some are gay, some are straight, some turn gay for the stay because they are so lonely. They fight for no reason, they just needing some kind of drama in their lives. We are isolated from the "real world." We make our own world inside these gates. In here, our past, present, or future don't really matter any longer because we're stuck stuck in this world behind the fences.
I have a bunky; we all do. I wonder what she's here for, how much longer does she have? Do I dare ask? No, because who gives a rat's ass. The judge wants us all to change, wants us to be better women, but how can we? There are no classes. If we're sick, they shake their heads and say, "too bad, take aspirin." They don't care, as long as we're out of their hair...
So what would I say to all of you on the outside looking in? Don't turn your back on those who have sin.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Where I Was Raised
by Deanna Thompson
Raised on 900 acres in the head of a hollar. Wow, what a wonderful life. Indian burial grounds, caves with carvings on the walls, moss-covered rocks, fresh spring to drink from, copperheads and rattle snakes, lots of animals. We had horses which were used to go into the mountains and herd the other livestock in. We had goats and sheep to keep the mountains ate down. They were great bush hogs. Goats' milk was also very good for sick people and animals. There was one ram, and when I say ram I mean he had curled horns and he was mean. When you seen him coming in you stayed out of the way really. Getting hit by him once was enough.
We also had domestic hogs and razorback hogs. We built a pen across the creek for the razorback. Boy, they were mean. That way they had a constant supply of water. They were the ugliest animals I have ever seen. The regular hogs of course were used for eating. When we would kill hogs we would do three at a time. We had a little log smoke house and every part of the hog was used for something. We made sausage out of the tongue, brains, and some other parts. Believe it or not we even used the testicles, that was my grandfather's favorite part. The pork rinds were my favorite and of course the bacon and ham still is today.
Chickens, turkeys, guineas and pheasants were also on the farm. Once a month we would kill 10 chickens. We would ring their neck and them em under a bucket, put a rock on top so they didn't knock it over. When they were done flopping we would pluck the chickens. We kept all the underbelly feathers for mattress tops and pillows. They couldn't have lond ends because it would poke through the fabric. Throw the rest over the creek bank. Then we would scorch the bird. That means burn off the skin of the bird before you clean it. Then you would have to cut its head off, gut it, and cut it up, bag em and freeze em.
The cows were pretty much like the hogs. We would hang em in the smokehouse after they were gutted. The brains, heart, liver, and extras were once again used to make sausage. One thing that was different with hogs were we made hog hocks or pickled pigs feet.
Then there was the chores! Lots of em. I would get up when it was still dark out, eat breakfast, go to the barn, feed all the animals, put the horses on the run, let them out to the right pasture, go home, wash up, and get ready for the day of school. After school chores, garden work, homework, then on my horse I would go til it was bed time.
I loved sitting in the middle of the creek at the ol' swimming hole! It was a 3 to 4 ton rock in the middle of the creek with a big swimming hold at the bottom. We would run, belly-dive and go allt he way to the bottom in the pool of water! It was awesome. The rocks were so slick from the water running over them all the time. It is the best slip-n-slide ever!
My Mamma would say, "Baby, get the jugs and go get us some water." Sometimes she would mean from the spring and sometimes from the well out front. It was an old rock well that had a rope bucket and pulley. Awesome now that I think about the way I was raised.
I have hated milk for all my life. Like I said our cows grazed the mountainside. On the mountainside was wild onions. Guess what the milk tasted like? Have you ever had cereal and onion? Gross, let me tell ya. Needless to say I'm not fond of milk by any means.
Raised on 900 acres in the head of a hollar. Wow, what a wonderful life. Indian burial grounds, caves with carvings on the walls, moss-covered rocks, fresh spring to drink from, copperheads and rattle snakes, lots of animals. We had horses which were used to go into the mountains and herd the other livestock in. We had goats and sheep to keep the mountains ate down. They were great bush hogs. Goats' milk was also very good for sick people and animals. There was one ram, and when I say ram I mean he had curled horns and he was mean. When you seen him coming in you stayed out of the way really. Getting hit by him once was enough.
We also had domestic hogs and razorback hogs. We built a pen across the creek for the razorback. Boy, they were mean. That way they had a constant supply of water. They were the ugliest animals I have ever seen. The regular hogs of course were used for eating. When we would kill hogs we would do three at a time. We had a little log smoke house and every part of the hog was used for something. We made sausage out of the tongue, brains, and some other parts. Believe it or not we even used the testicles, that was my grandfather's favorite part. The pork rinds were my favorite and of course the bacon and ham still is today.
Chickens, turkeys, guineas and pheasants were also on the farm. Once a month we would kill 10 chickens. We would ring their neck and them em under a bucket, put a rock on top so they didn't knock it over. When they were done flopping we would pluck the chickens. We kept all the underbelly feathers for mattress tops and pillows. They couldn't have lond ends because it would poke through the fabric. Throw the rest over the creek bank. Then we would scorch the bird. That means burn off the skin of the bird before you clean it. Then you would have to cut its head off, gut it, and cut it up, bag em and freeze em.
The cows were pretty much like the hogs. We would hang em in the smokehouse after they were gutted. The brains, heart, liver, and extras were once again used to make sausage. One thing that was different with hogs were we made hog hocks or pickled pigs feet.
Then there was the chores! Lots of em. I would get up when it was still dark out, eat breakfast, go to the barn, feed all the animals, put the horses on the run, let them out to the right pasture, go home, wash up, and get ready for the day of school. After school chores, garden work, homework, then on my horse I would go til it was bed time.
I loved sitting in the middle of the creek at the ol' swimming hole! It was a 3 to 4 ton rock in the middle of the creek with a big swimming hold at the bottom. We would run, belly-dive and go allt he way to the bottom in the pool of water! It was awesome. The rocks were so slick from the water running over them all the time. It is the best slip-n-slide ever!
My Mamma would say, "Baby, get the jugs and go get us some water." Sometimes she would mean from the spring and sometimes from the well out front. It was an old rock well that had a rope bucket and pulley. Awesome now that I think about the way I was raised.
I have hated milk for all my life. Like I said our cows grazed the mountainside. On the mountainside was wild onions. Guess what the milk tasted like? Have you ever had cereal and onion? Gross, let me tell ya. Needless to say I'm not fond of milk by any means.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
First Bad Memory
by Summer Jaynes
I'm at my father's house with my two half-sisters. I'm four, they are a few years older. It's night time. My dad is drunk, I can tell by the way he's slurring his words and talking mean to my step-mother. My dad is 6'2'', 200 pounds, black hair and eyes. My step-mother is bleach-blond, 300 pounds, 5'7''. He's yelling at her, she's crying. The house smells like old bear and cigars, me and my sisters are hiding in my room. We hear them fighting. Now I hear thumps on the wall and she's screaming. I open the door and see my father's angry eyes full of hate. He's dragging her by the hair to his room. She has blood all over her shirt and is screaming, "No Bobby please!" I shut the door and start crying. My sisters are crying also. There's more thumps and screaming from behind the closed door. After a while it's dead quiet. I think it's been hours now, maybe they are asleep. We come out of the bedroom and start picking up the ash trays and other things that was knocked over in the living room. We put a movie on and make a palit*. I go use the bathroom and I see my step-mother crying at the sink. I walk around her and use the bathroom. She's washing her face, there's dried blood. "Come here, Summer." I come and she holds me and just cries. She then goes to her room and shuts the door. I run down the hall and get under the covers and watch the movie with my sisters. Later we all fall asleep. I wake up scared. I think I see someone in the window, it's the monster or the devil. I don't want to wake daddy and I know my sisters can't help. I run to the phone, I only know one phone number, my Grandma's. I call her, she's hoarse, you can tell I woke her. I cry into the phone and tell her the devil is outside, I see him poking in the window. I'm crying hysterically now, trying to be quiet so I don't wake no one. My Grandma tries to soothe me. She tells me to get a Bible and open it to any page. I do also get a pillow so I can lay by the phone. She talks to me and calms me down, telling me no one can hurt me. I must fall asleep like this because I wake up in the morning to the phone buzzing.
I'm at my father's house with my two half-sisters. I'm four, they are a few years older. It's night time. My dad is drunk, I can tell by the way he's slurring his words and talking mean to my step-mother. My dad is 6'2'', 200 pounds, black hair and eyes. My step-mother is bleach-blond, 300 pounds, 5'7''. He's yelling at her, she's crying. The house smells like old bear and cigars, me and my sisters are hiding in my room. We hear them fighting. Now I hear thumps on the wall and she's screaming. I open the door and see my father's angry eyes full of hate. He's dragging her by the hair to his room. She has blood all over her shirt and is screaming, "No Bobby please!" I shut the door and start crying. My sisters are crying also. There's more thumps and screaming from behind the closed door. After a while it's dead quiet. I think it's been hours now, maybe they are asleep. We come out of the bedroom and start picking up the ash trays and other things that was knocked over in the living room. We put a movie on and make a palit*. I go use the bathroom and I see my step-mother crying at the sink. I walk around her and use the bathroom. She's washing her face, there's dried blood. "Come here, Summer." I come and she holds me and just cries. She then goes to her room and shuts the door. I run down the hall and get under the covers and watch the movie with my sisters. Later we all fall asleep. I wake up scared. I think I see someone in the window, it's the monster or the devil. I don't want to wake daddy and I know my sisters can't help. I run to the phone, I only know one phone number, my Grandma's. I call her, she's hoarse, you can tell I woke her. I cry into the phone and tell her the devil is outside, I see him poking in the window. I'm crying hysterically now, trying to be quiet so I don't wake no one. My Grandma tries to soothe me. She tells me to get a Bible and open it to any page. I do also get a pillow so I can lay by the phone. She talks to me and calms me down, telling me no one can hurt me. I must fall asleep like this because I wake up in the morning to the phone buzzing.
First Memory
by Summer Jaynes
I believe I was four-years-old.
I was at my Grandma's house, it was a sunny afternoon, there was a breeze. I'm climbing a cherry tree she has in her yard. "Pick the dark red ones, Summer. Do you know which ones are red?" "Yes!! Just like your favorite bird right Grandma?" "Good job."
I look down and see my Grandma standing there in shorts and a T-shirt. She's a heavier woman, her long black hair is flowing in the air. Her smile is so kind and her black-brown eyes are full of love. I look back at the cherries and start picking them, putting them in my sack. I eat some of them and I hear my Grandma laughing her heartfull laugh. "Summer, don't eat them all, you'll get a stomachache. You want a pie, don't you sweetie?" I just laugh and keep picking them til my sack is full. Then we walk in the house and wash them in the sink. I pull a chair up to the counter so I can watch her make the pie, stealing cherries while she's getting things ready.
I believe I was four-years-old.
I was at my Grandma's house, it was a sunny afternoon, there was a breeze. I'm climbing a cherry tree she has in her yard. "Pick the dark red ones, Summer. Do you know which ones are red?" "Yes!! Just like your favorite bird right Grandma?" "Good job."
I look down and see my Grandma standing there in shorts and a T-shirt. She's a heavier woman, her long black hair is flowing in the air. Her smile is so kind and her black-brown eyes are full of love. I look back at the cherries and start picking them, putting them in my sack. I eat some of them and I hear my Grandma laughing her heartfull laugh. "Summer, don't eat them all, you'll get a stomachache. You want a pie, don't you sweetie?" I just laugh and keep picking them til my sack is full. Then we walk in the house and wash them in the sink. I pull a chair up to the counter so I can watch her make the pie, stealing cherries while she's getting things ready.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Reality Kicks In
by Isaac Pena
(Editor's Note: Isaac is one of our former students who is now in prison. He wrote this from the holding facility, where prisoners are sent while it is being decided where they will ultimately go to prison for the long term.)
I am sitting in Plainfield, Indiana, listening to murderers, thieves, and gang bangers talk and scream about gang politics, prisons, and sentences. And here I am a first-time felon sentenced to 14 1/2 years staring out of a window with steel bars all over it looking at the first sunset I've seen in 15 months. It's so beautiful! I thought my transition point in my life was 15 months ago when I got booked into county jail, but here I sit wanting to be someone, a contributor to society. I want the precious privilege that I took for granted for so long and what a lot of people are taking for granted right now...
Freedom...
(Editor's Note: Isaac is one of our former students who is now in prison. He wrote this from the holding facility, where prisoners are sent while it is being decided where they will ultimately go to prison for the long term.)
I am sitting in Plainfield, Indiana, listening to murderers, thieves, and gang bangers talk and scream about gang politics, prisons, and sentences. And here I am a first-time felon sentenced to 14 1/2 years staring out of a window with steel bars all over it looking at the first sunset I've seen in 15 months. It's so beautiful! I thought my transition point in my life was 15 months ago when I got booked into county jail, but here I sit wanting to be someone, a contributor to society. I want the precious privilege that I took for granted for so long and what a lot of people are taking for granted right now...
Freedom...
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Home
by Megan Slone
Beep. Beep. Beep. I reach over and slap the alarm clock. It's six a.m. and time to start getting the family around for church. I look over at my husband snoring soundly next to me and wonder how on God's green earth he manages to sleep through that beeping every morning. Then I receive a swift kick to the bladder. "I know," I say, "I'm going." I throw the blankets off and roll my very pregnant self out of bed and waddle to the master bath.
After using the restroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face, I head down the hall past the new nursery, to the second bedroom. The door is open just a crack, enough to poke my head in and peek at my beautiful baby girl Brooklyn. She is getting so big, it's hard to believe she turns three in June. All I can see is her bouncy red curls falling crazily around her angel face. Off to the kitchen, I walk past the guest room down the stairs and through the living and dining room. I start the coffee pot and sit down to stare out the window, it's going to be beautiful out.
***
"Chow!" My eyes open instantly. "Great, another sleepless night," I mumble to myself. I sit up and get off my flat ass mat I call a bed and walk to the line of half asleep women just to hear them griping about the break-your-teeth-out cereal we're having again. I grab the nearest seat after I make my way through the line. I open my bowl to find out they must have ran out when they got to my bowl cause it's only half full. "Ugh, why do I even bother?" I force my way through every bit, hoping I don't chip a tooth again and throw my bowl in the tote.
I go back to the bunk I call home and lay down. After tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable I come to the conclusion that I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep with everyone else wide awake. So once again I get up, I grab my mug and pour some freeze dried instant coffee bullshit in and head to the hot pot praying that it has hot water or water period. After getting my coffee I go sit down at the picnic table and look up towards our family skylight which is really just a whole in the roof with a piece of plexi glass and metal bars covering it and wonder what it looks like outside.
Beep. Beep. Beep. I reach over and slap the alarm clock. It's six a.m. and time to start getting the family around for church. I look over at my husband snoring soundly next to me and wonder how on God's green earth he manages to sleep through that beeping every morning. Then I receive a swift kick to the bladder. "I know," I say, "I'm going." I throw the blankets off and roll my very pregnant self out of bed and waddle to the master bath.
After using the restroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face, I head down the hall past the new nursery, to the second bedroom. The door is open just a crack, enough to poke my head in and peek at my beautiful baby girl Brooklyn. She is getting so big, it's hard to believe she turns three in June. All I can see is her bouncy red curls falling crazily around her angel face. Off to the kitchen, I walk past the guest room down the stairs and through the living and dining room. I start the coffee pot and sit down to stare out the window, it's going to be beautiful out.
***
"Chow!" My eyes open instantly. "Great, another sleepless night," I mumble to myself. I sit up and get off my flat ass mat I call a bed and walk to the line of half asleep women just to hear them griping about the break-your-teeth-out cereal we're having again. I grab the nearest seat after I make my way through the line. I open my bowl to find out they must have ran out when they got to my bowl cause it's only half full. "Ugh, why do I even bother?" I force my way through every bit, hoping I don't chip a tooth again and throw my bowl in the tote.
I go back to the bunk I call home and lay down. After tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable I come to the conclusion that I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep with everyone else wide awake. So once again I get up, I grab my mug and pour some freeze dried instant coffee bullshit in and head to the hot pot praying that it has hot water or water period. After getting my coffee I go sit down at the picnic table and look up towards our family skylight which is really just a whole in the roof with a piece of plexi glass and metal bars covering it and wonder what it looks like outside.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
