About Us

Okay, I hope no one is offended by the Blog topic, if you are you may need to forego any further reading.  First, I will admit that we are still fortunate, relatively speaking, in the current placement that Greg has for his incarceration.  Craggy Correction Center, in beautiful Asheville, NC  is scenic and much less rigid than other facilities.  Much of this is due to the 90 day Drug and Alcohol program that only allows those who behave impeccably to be allowed to participate or you are simply shipped out. 

Mostly, I have adapted to the atrocities Greg faces daily, normalized them, the kind of thing that allows us to watch bloody slaughters at the cinema without running from the theatre screaming.  I don’t have to like it, or even keep my eyes all the way open, but I can endure it and move through the rest of the day.  I find it interesting that the things that would keep me up at night and send me to the loony bin have found a home in my subconscious so that I can get through the days.  The little bully stuff makes me want to scream and stomp my feet.  I wonder if it is because I can mention these things without losing my mind.

In the last two weeks Greg has gotten harassed and threatened by the CO’s due to mail content.  I sent a print out of a Prison Cookbook Greg requested that was only available on Kindle.  Okay, this complaint was legit that I theoretically couldn’t legally copy and print the pages but I sure couldn’t mail the electronic version…  The CO let that slide then proceeded to tell him that he was on a thin line due to the Prison Legal News content that I send to him since it is NOT his subscription.  Greg did explain that he subscribes to the print but it comes infrequently, they threatened to write him up if I send any more.

Okay I stop doing that.  For months we have been sending clipped newspaper articles of interest and daily Sudoku and crossword puzzles, kind of like the prize in cracker jacks, with every letter (sent daily).  This week they told him it was not fair that he can get these, since the other inmates don’t get them so if we don’t stop, he will get written up.  WHAT?  The thing is, I am more incensed about this than most of the other stuff that I should really be mad about. I promptly went home and mailed him two puzzle books, my FU to the CO, but really, what is the point?

I don’t go on and on about the “red door” that dudes get beat up at because it is off camera but the CO’s see that and do nothing.  I don’t lose my mind that every visit he is strip searched because he has the gift of seeing his mother and dad tainted like a foul after dinner mint, by a CO with blue rubber gloves.  I don’t lose my lunch over the fact that Greg gets stressed out every visit that he may really have to pee and then the visit is over, he can’t leave and come back, just leave.  So he stops drinking any liquids the day before…  I don’t get upset that he doesn’t get sleep because there is no time and no silence, I don’t scream that I see he learns more every day to wheel and deal and negotiate in ways that will not serve him out here and that I have no idea if when he gets out is he will even remember the norms of this society. I don’t cry in fear that he may not live to find his way out of there.

Instead I am so damn mad that I cannot send him clipped out crossword puzzles.  Why would this little piece of humanity, a tiny act of kindness not be allowed to him?  Why is it that the punishment has to be so very thorough that a sweet sentiment is more than they believe he deserves?  They took his freedom not his humanity.  I want to yell, you idiots, his name is Greg, not inmate, he is a human, not your kicking post, if you need to prove your manhood by ripping down this decent young man, then you will never be a man and what you reap you will sow.  I am sure these were the guys that bullied others in school who had the mommas rush in and say, my son would never do that, boys will be boys, and then job after job they were fired until they learned about the very lucrative CO position.

Okay , I haven’t ranted in a while.  I have had a lot of pretty good days.  We are heading into the end of Greg’s time at Craggy and we fall back into uncertainty, we won’t know where he will go, or what night he’ll be moved in the night without warning, transported until they stop at a metal cage for him to wait until he connects with the van that ultimately leads him to the next “opportunity” for redemption, harm, the unknown.  We are soon back into our fear place of not knowing.  I can’t go there, not yet.  We talked about it Sunday; Greg finds this his truth too.

Most days we are okay.  I found that it gets better, like acne, some days I hide it better than others, some days it flares up angry and red and other days I am just grateful that no one else sees it but I know it is in remission and will be back.