It continues to be hot--all seasons bring their trials, but it cooled off a bit during the night. I woke up--yet again-- at 3AM and did my usual "walkabout." We keep the air-conditioning set to go on at 78 degrees. I thought of the women at the prison with none of these options: walking around and staying cool. After checking email--no messages from the kids, I settled down on the couch with the cat and the dog and turned on the television.
CNN. Repeat of Piers Morgan's earlier show. Guest: Hugh Hefner. I don't want to like him. Hef's been an almost constant background presence throughout my life: on the American scene, seeming to skulk, vulture-like with a haughty, detached look, always surrounded in photos by the kind of blonde most women will never be--or want to be. When you hear their stories most women, it seems, are in prison because they did something stupid for a man. But, in the middle of the night, The Playboy was making some quiet,calm sense. He didn't have the pipe in his mouth, but you could see the place it might fit as he talked.
"We need to get back to who we were," he said when Piers asked him about the present power struggle between President Obama and the Republicans. Soon, they contrasted our present state to that of China's. Hef and Piers agreed China is what we used to be: high ideals, desiring competition, open to change and suggestion. We shouldn't fear China--we have inspired them; they are trying to be like us, Piers and The Playboy seemed to be saying.
I suddenly remembered I had been awakened by a startling thought: Have we Americans--and other countries following our example--become slaves? And, if we have, who or what are we slaves to? Materialism? Credit? Wanting what we want when we want it?
Betty Ford is in her grave. Cokie Roberts told us Mrs. Ford wanted us to remember what government officials--those we elect to make decisions for us--were like in our past. A mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother has died.
President Obama and Congress are dancing around the ring, jabbing and stabbing, meeting again for the fifth day in a row. Now, as I write, on C-Span I hear the Chaplain of the House of Representatives praying for peace and calm for its members. Now I hear the Pledge of Allegiance being recited...one nation under God.
Our present American economic situation, the up-ticking of indebtedness was bringing it all home--and it was waking me up! I went to the folder where I keep the writings of the ladies who are only half-an-hour away and are, most likely, awake as well.
Here's a poem by inmate Maisha Mahalia that spoke to me in the night:
A Changed Mind
I'm not working for the State for free.
I refuse to let this place change me.
These are the thoughts that controlled my mind from the start.
Then when my Grandma died, it did something to my heart.
I hate to get up for Stand Up Count.
I don't want to hear what the Officer's talking about.
I began to see it's not working for free, but for Freedom.
I realized I need to follow the rules and listen to some.
I realized I have to change the thoughts in my mind.
To learn not to let The Time do me, but to do The Time.
I will not change the way I think that I have for years.
I can't let this place break me, bring me to tears.
So what if I had to shed a few tears and let others see?
Tears help me let go of pain, anger and set my soul free.
Sometimes you need others to lean on, to vent what you feel.
You need someone who isn't fake, but knows how to be real.
I can never get a peaceful sleep or moment's privacy.
I will not let this place take away my independency.
Your Time can be hard and make you angry and hateful--
Or you can use Your Time to learn and be grateful.
Grateful that you are alive and get to see another day.
Thankful God spared your life so you can turn the other way.
Being in prison is not where I would choose to be.
But, honestly, prison has made me a better me.
Some real wisdom in these words.
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