Gifts

Step Into the Light

January 5, 2023

By Steven Walks On The Grass

I wasn’t really sure what I was going to write about this week until this week. I had a wonderful New Year weekend. On Sunday I was blessed and honored by an old friend and his wife. As most of you already know I enjoy making music, singing and writing lyrics. Well, many years ago I met a very gifted young man named Butch Reno and we discovered we were both into music. Now Butch really doesn’t think it, but he is a very gifted guitarist and probably the only person in my entire musical career life that I’ve been able to just sit down with and the music we write together just happens. It’s amazing neither he or I really have much purpose or intent, much of a road map, we just sit down and it happens.

About 24 years ago, probably the last time Butch and I were together, I remember us sitting on the living room floor, Butch with his acoustic guitar and me with this stupid little tape recorder. In moments the music just happened. The words I sang, Who Am I, were a raw, emotional cry for help. When we finished I gave the tape to Butch and said, “Here Buddy, this is yours.”

https://www.facebook.com/butch.reno/videos/10153651326114112/

Fast forward – God, I wish it had been a fast forward – after all those next years I spent in prison, I reached out to Butch again, just to touch base, let him know I’m home and see if maybe we could get together to reacquaint ourselves and catch up on what life has given or taken from us. Looking at Butch’s Facebook page and talking with him, I learned that he had married his beautiful wife Angie a few years ago and that they had lost their infant son at birth. I can’t even imagine the pain of that. I can’t imagine how he and Angie got through it other than sharing their grief and the help of friends and family. In time they managed to move on, not forgetting, not for one second, but continued to live.

So Butch and I talked several times and we decided that I would send some voice clips of vocal tracks over this phone thing, and he would try and put some music to it. We would try once again to rekindle the creative juices that just erupted anytime he and I were in a room together. Well it kind of worked and it kind of didn’t. I fired off several sets of lyrics to him; he fires off several guitar pieces to me, but we didn’t build anything. It wasn’t quite the same; something was missing.

Then when I was finally allowed to go out on Sunday visits, I asked Butch if he and Angie could pick me up so we could go have a cup of coffee or something. So Butch and Angie graciously came and took me to their home for a visit and some magic. Butch handed me a tablet with a few lines of a verse he had written and a sketch of what he wanted the bridge chorus to be. He said the song was about looking out the window after his son died, feeling completely lost and trying to find himself. Just the simple fact that Butch shared this with me, opening up all his vulnerabilities as a man in his grief and the pain in the words he wrote, however brief, showed me they were incredibly important and I knew this had to happen.

So I suggested he go get his guitar and show me what he’s got in mind; he did and the result is magical. We managed to get two verses and two choruses in before I had to leave. This song is important and needs more verses to adequately tell of the heartache, the anguish and the confusion Butch felt in those moments and his journey back to himself. I’ve got a couple more verses and choruses in mind to add next time we meet.

https://www.facebook.com/100086270802569/videos/581813430465526

Few have ever felt pain so blinding in your soul and in your heart that nothing can make it better. All you can do is cry out your anguish and feel your pain, for the only place you can find any comfort is in your own pain and suffering. Being asked to write this song with Butch and given free lyrical license to write what I think needs to be written is surely one of the most humbling and highest honors I’ve ever received. The feelings come from the heart of a man who has suffered as I have suffered. Though the causes were totally different they were both devastating and life changing in their emotional impact.

Angie and I had never met, but Butch had spoken of me often and she had heard the original tape of who am I that we recorded 24 years ago and I’m sure she’d heard the story of how we just sat down and unlike anything that’s ever happened with any other artist that either of us has worked with, magic happened and it happened again that last Sunday. Finally I was free, I was able to create and sing and smile again. The smiles came from my heart and from the gifts given to us by the Creator, the talent to maybe hold a note, or to be able to play that note on a guitar, or to be able to think about that note and then play it or sing it, to create lyrics that mean something, that heal, that help ease the pain and share our burdens.

Butch and Angie, I owe you both a debt of gratitude and I’m humbled by your friendship, kindness and trust with something as important as this particular song. I hope to go back real soon so that we can finish. Like Butch I’m just grateful to have a good woman by my side. That in itself is a gift. We’ve talked and are in agreement that we both want to work on writing more original songs. We’re not looking to go out there and play a bunch of clubs and bars and all that crap with bands. I know I’m over all that.

What I’m not over and what I do want to do is write twelve or fourteen songs with Butch, polish them up and then just go into little places that normally would not have entertainment and just sit down and do an acoustic set for free for the folks there. In this way we can enjoy performing and share what we both know are gifts from the Creator.

Long Road Home by Steven Maisenbacher

What a World

Step Into the Light

December 29, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Well, another installment in the never-ending saga of what the hell are these people thinking? Once again I am out of the long-acting insulin. I’ve been telling them for 3 weeks that I need more insulin. They say they will take care of it until all of a sudden I’m down to my last dose. So when I tell them they want me to go to Walmart today and buy an emergency bottle. Evidently the BOP’s health insurance must authorize every prescription refill the doctor from Central Counties Health Centers sends to the pharmacy.  This is stupid to begin with if the prescription is valid the first time with refills it should be valid the second time, right?

Is it just me or is this world ridiculous? I’m not really trying to trip on that too much I’m just going to march myself over to Walmart and get the emergency bottle of insulin and let that be that until they can figure out how to keep a brittle diabetic from going into shock or a coma. This is the third time since August 31st that they’ve run out of my insulin! Yes, these are the people responsible for keeping me healthy and safe – you know the same ones who let a guy run into my room in the middle of the night to hide from a gunman outside looking for him. But we’re not going to go there; we’ve already been there and it did no good.

What I do want to talk about is change. We’ve all heard the clichés: change is good, change is inevitable, change is always for the better, the spice of life, yada yada yada. But change can also bring stress, pain and discomfort. I know I’ve gone through stressful changes often enough. Right now someone I love more than anything is going through this kind of change, uprooting her life to be with me. It isn’t easy and it’s kicking my butt to know there’s nothing I can do to help. I can’t alleviate her stress, I can’t make it any better or any faster or any less difficult. All I can do is be supportive.

You see, I’m going to always be supportive of her. I don’t care if she’s right or wrong, I’m going to support her. If she’s wrong, we’ll talk about it later, but until the smoke clears she’s right. To me that’s the idea of what a man and a woman’s relationship should be – support for each other, under any circumstances, in any situation, and at any cost. Those who follow my story are probably getting to know me fairly well, or at least the way I think and the way I see things, my perspectives on life.

Now here are a few new ones. Number one, there’s nothing that a man won’t do for the woman he loves; there’s nothing he won’t give up or work to change or try to make better in order to please her. Number two, I’m in love with the most beautiful woman in my world. Number three obviously refers to number one. So watching my beautiful woman go through these stressful changes, knowing that she’s doing it as much for me as for herself, without being able to help, without being able to physically hold her, comfort her, tell her that it’s all going to be okay … well, it’s very hard, and I can only imagine how hard it is for her.

Walks’ wife Janice
Veteran, U. S. Navy
Former Patriot Guard Rider

But she’s a warrior – literally. She served this country, risked her life for this country and the values the people of this country hold. Not the stupid things the government tries to push off on us under the banner of “it’s good for you,” but the ideals of freedom, the right to practice your religion, the right to an education, the right to your own home and family and your safety as an American citizen. Yeah that’s my baby, and I thank her for her service. I thank all of our veterans for your service as well. Without your service we’d be in a world of hurt and for you to put in your service meant many changes in your life, changing your comfort zones, changing the very fact of your existence at that point. I honor you and I respect you.

Some other changes are needed too, like some of us need to change our attitudes. I’m certainly working on mine. I know I’m a work in progress and sometimes I feel like an experiment in human development but that’s okay too. I’m heading for a big change in about a week when I start college full time! I’ve got a full load planned for Spring semester, and I plan on carrying a full load each semester for the next year. I’m happy about that change because every minute I’m in that class I’m going to be absorbing new information, and that too means change – mental change, educational change, and change in my qualifications to fulfill my dreams of becoming a certified alcohol and drug counselor or a juvenile delinquency counselor.

I’m trying to give back some of what I took. I’m trying to change; I’m trying to send the wheel back around in a good way, just like my baby is trying to do the wheel of our love. Our relationship didn’t just start. It goes back decades. In fact, our personal belief is it didn’t start even in this lifetime. The ties are too strong, the bonds are too obvious and the love too deep to have been just this time around. We’ve been together before, we’ll be together again, and we’ll also be together soon. That’s the payoff for the pain of change in this instance.

I want to say one more thing about change. On Christmas Day there was a change in my shape. Bab, my sister-in-law made lasagna and I became distinctly rounder. And no I am not sorry at all. I ate like a pig on Christmas eve and then I came back here and did it again cuz Babs sent me back with a heaping plate full. Thanks to my family I had the best Christmas ever.

I’m not going to roll on and on about how everything changes but something I said last week is making a lot of sense to me right now. Not everything that’s bad is bad; sometimes good things come out of bad. Just look at what’s happening for me right now. I’m Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender. I will however embrace change – and my beautiful Janice when she gets here.

*** Founded in 2005, the Patriot Guard Riders is an all-volunteer organization whose members attend the funerals of members of the U.S. military and first responders at the invitation of a decedent’s family. The group forms a voluntary honor guard at military burials, helps protect mourners from harassment and fills out the ranks at burials of indigent and homeless veterans. Wikipedia

Long Road Home by Steven Maisenbacher

BRRRR

Step Into the Light

December 23, 2022

By Stephen Walks On The Grass

Well here we are again my friends. Another week is almost gone and this one is particularly fortuitous simply because it’s Christmas time. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I’m spending it with my family.  Here where I am now, in Springfield, Illinois, there’s a horribly, horribly cold-cold-cold front moving through. Some of the temperatures are near record-breaking.

At 5:30 this morning when I went outside for my prayers,  it was minus 7° with a 35° below zero wind-chill factor. Needless to say, I trust the Creator understood my haste as I did my directional prayers with my tobacco offering already in my right hand and my eagle feather in my left hand. So I made my offering immediately after my prayers. Then I high-tailed it back inside cuz it was Burrrr cold!

Now this is my first winter back in the Midwest after spending many years in the South, so I’m not really acclimated to temperatures like this anymore. I’ve been preparing for the winter for months now. In fact, Sings Many Songs got me this good thick coat. It keeps my whole upper body perfectly warm even with the -35 wind chill. And of course, the love of my life, my beautiful Janice, knitted me this beautiful scarf that saved my butt when it’s so cold that if I’d have gone outside without it I probably would have risked frostbite. This coat and scarf, simple as they may seem are two of my most cherished possessions. I’m not really a materialistic guy but for these I will be. See, you may see them as just a coat and a scarf, but I see them as gifts of love, meant to help keep me safe and warm and comfortable and able to approach the Creator without having to risk freezing to death. While I am willing to sacrifice in my Approach to the Creator, I don’t think he wants my fingers or toes; I think my heart and my soul and my mind are enough. I don’t presume to speak for the Creator but I do presume to speak to him.

The Creator has made clear and obvious efforts to change the life of a man like me and I’m quite sure he understands exactly what I’m saying here.  If you don’t think so, just watch a squirrel building its nest or the birds that fly south getting ready for winter. For every season there is a time to prepare and everything has its own season.  Every facet of our Lives has its own season. We just don’t get to choose when or where those seasons may fall; they are left to the wisdom of the Creator. All we can do is try to be prepared and allow our loved ones to help us in our Journeys as we should help them as we can and when we can. I’m not trying to go all philosophical or any of that, but what I am going to say is this: If you surround yourself with people who want to be better people themselves you will automatically become a better person. Consider the physics of that very scenario – goodness repels evil, and evil only exists because of goodness.

So if you put good and good together you’re not going to end up with evil or bad; you’re going to end up with better. That’s what the people around me make me – better. They help me find who I am, even in the blinding, freezing, raining, cold; they help me be better. And they definitely know, I love them and appreciate them and I don’t take them for granted.

I was speaking with a young lady today about praying. She said it seems like every time she tries to pray a million other thoughts come through her head. I told her I know, it’s funny because I struggled with this in the beginning of my spiritual walk. I figured out that to get my Approach to the Creator done, I needed to take a look at all the fleeting thoughts that came to me. After that I started counting each thought as a blessing instead of a hindrance to my prayers. Maybe there was something that I wasn’t giving enough attention to or maybe something that needed to be processed or something I don’t know or needed looking at more than I did initially and that’s why the thought was still there anyway.

I said all that to say this: Not everything that’s not good is bad. Look at the 35° below wind chill this morning while I was out there praying. It wasn’t bad. It was a chance for my loved ones to help me approach the Creator with a little comfort and warmth and it was also a visible, physical manifestation and expression of their love for me. Which reminds me of tomorrow and spending Christmas Eve with my family. Remember that lasagna I talked about over a year ago in a previous chapter? Well, tomorrow is lasagna day and my dream is coming true! Oh happy day! Thank you Bab! Your lasagna most surely is a fine expression of love. PS: Hope you have some Tupperware bowls.

So there’s only one thing I can do from this point on. Keep pushing. I’m Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender.

Long Road Home by Steven Maisenbacher

TURMOIL

Step Into the Light

December 15, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Well here we are again. Another week has gone by with all sorts of frolicking activities; this place is just insane. Let me relate what I’m talking about. At the beginning of this week a guy upstairs, a BOP inmate, had $600 stolen out of his locker. Only one other person knew where it was and that person was to be released that day – and in fact he was released.

Quite understandably, the guy whose hard-earned money was stolen got upset about all this. So he told his counselor that he wanted to go open a bank account so that his money wouldn’t be stolen again. She refused to let him go. This guy got so upset with the way these people were acting that he packed up his belongings and walked out of the facility. During the time that he was away unauthorized, one of the other inmates called him on his phone and said, “Look man, just go back and talk to her, they won’t do anything, they’ll understand.”

So he did and when he talked to his counselor, she smiled pretty in his face and offered him all the consoling platitudes. She then told him to go upstairs and unpack his stuff; they would figure something out. What a mistake trusting her was because she had in fact figured something out. He went upstairs and unpacked his property. Then as he came out of his room to go downstairs and outside for a moment, he discovered the Marshalls there waiting for him. They put him on the wall, handcuffed him, and took him back into custody to a County Jail somewhere. This all happened because he wanted to open a bank account so that the money he had worked for wouldn’t be stolen again.

The next day when they packed up his property the staff took his phone and went through it. Evidently they found what they believed to be numerous drug transactions and nefarious activities conducted with other inmates living upstairs here in the halfway house. So once again, they’re talking about confiscating everyone’s phones and going through them and making sure you don’t have any contacts in them with the very people you live around all the time anyway.

It seems to me that the turmoil in this place is brought on by the very people who run the place. They totally fail to really render any aid whatsoever to anyone trying to reenter society. In fact it has been my observation that they absolutely have done nothing to help anyone I’m acquainted with in reentry, myself included. Let’s go down this chain of thought:

I arrived here August 31st. For the first week I was confined to the building, and while I did have a telephone it took them several days to give it to me. They hassled me because I couldn’t prove where I got it. Well it’s kind of hard not to figure that out that when I had just gotten out of prison I bought the damn thing. Where’s your receipt? What did I know? I threw it away; why would I keep it? The phone worked that’s all I needed to know. I bought the phone while waiting at the bus station. It kept me in touch with Sings and family members and friends throughout my travels on the bus coming here.

Yes, after just getting out I did have some problems adjusting. My PTSD (anxiety, stress and fears) were kicking in just thinking of all the unknowns ahead of me. Like a dummy I told my case managers this and asked for help; I said I’d like to speak with a counselor. “Oh, no problem,” they said, and scheduled me for an interview with a psychologist for the company. From that simple request they also determined that I was to be held from getting any freedom of movement at all because I might be a danger to society due to my PTSD issues. So I had to see the psychologist at least two times and then possibly a psychiatrist before they would allow me to even go out to look for a job or be around the public.

So it took a month to see this guy twice. The first time I met with him he determined the PTSD was very real but that I was not a threat to society nor was society a threat to me. He arranged for them to loosen the reins just a little bit. So I start looking for jobs and we all know how that went. No one wants to hire an old guy with a walker and particularly not one that just got out of prison.

Then I finally got to go out to the community college. Yes, I dealt with that fear and was pleasantly surprised by the helpful way people treated me. I was to apply for my grant and once I got that I would go ahead and register, pick my classes, and meet with my counselors. In other words, do all the things I’m supposed to do to become familiar with the campus. Now before classes start in January I have to learn how to get on the computers. The people here know that I’m going to have to have a computer to do my assignments, but guess what, this place won’t allow me to have a laptop. The first reason or excuse was, and I quote: “We don’t want you to have that much access to the internet.” end quote. So I pulled my phone out of my pocket, put it on Google Assistant and said, Google what’s the temperature in Istanbul?

Now Google and I ain’t never been friends and it’s a well-known fact that I’m going to kick his little butt if I ever get my hands on him but he told me the temperature, whereupon I turned and looked at him and said how much more access to the internet do I need than this phone. The computer is for college assignments not to surf the web — which by the way, I don’t know how to do anyway come to think of it. I’m just beginning but I’m making progress with my computer skill thing now as you know if you read last week’s article. I do know how to get to the area where my assignments will be managed.

I also recently turned in my applications for at least 10 different scholarships I may be eligible for so I was told. Hmm, 10 different ones, I’ll be satisfied with one; anything that will help me get through my education to do what I got to do and that’s to be a better man and to give back. No, I don’t claim to be an angel, in fact I make a lot of mistakes; it’s all part of learning how to navigate in the world that I don’t know.

But what I don’t need in my reentry efforts is a bunch of people who feel entitled to take multiple thousands of dollars a year for a job that’s supposed to help me bridge this gap when in fact all they’re about is laying back In the cut looking for someone to make a mistake so that they can penalize them for it and arbitrarily take away anything that might mean something to them. There’s been a lot of weird things going on around here lately. Every day they are singling people out, it seems they are deliberately trying to get rid of people. At least that’s what my senses are telling me.

It has come to my attention that this place is in trouble because they are about to lose their contracts with the BOP next year. So the more people they can get through here for a minimum of 60 days, the more money they’ll be able to get before they do lose their contracts. It seems like they’re looking for any excuses.

With this on my radar, I decided I was not going to be blindsided by a whim of somebody that doesn’t like me and has been on my chain from the moment I walked in the door. I’ve talked to all my family and explained to them what’s going on. I’ve made arrangements for somebody to pick up my property just in case of the ugliest possible scenario.

The bottom line, however, is even with all that’s going on and all that could go on, I’m still going to keep chasing my dream. I’m still going to keep being me. I’m still going to keep going to college, even if it might be delayed — or might not.  I’m still going to keep loving the most wonderful woman in the world. I’m still going to keep loving the most wonderful family and friends that a man could possibly ever ask for, and I’m still going to be thankful for you for reading this.

Oh, and there’s one more thing I will never do. I’m Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender.

Long Road Home by Steven Maisenbacher

It’s Not a Secret Anymore

Step Into the Light

December 8, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Well there are some things that need to be said. The first one is yesterday I went out to the college and learned how to log into a computer. My tutor taught me how to get to the needed site, where my assignments will need to be posted, and how to log out. When he asked me how much I knew, I said, let’s start here: Where is the power button? LOL I took notes…lower left-hand corner in case any of you don’t know.

Getting that out of the way I felt very much a sense of accomplishment. It was amazing how proud I was at that moment. I had actually beat the computer that had me so cowed and in fear for several months. Now I know how to get on, put my lessons in, and submit them. This is important because I will not be getting any exemptions. I’m going to be treated like any other student and in hindsight I think I’d rather have it this way. I’m not special; I’m just a man.

I want to ask a couple questions. If you’ve read more than one sentence of my writings, raise your hand, and also note yes or no at the computer screen if you feel like I’ve put myself out there by, as someone I love said this morning, “Getting on the world wide web.” I never thought of it like that and I asked her if she meant with my stories I write? And she said, “No with that computer that you learned how to use yesterday.”

But that wasn’t what I thought of and it wasn’t what touched me to write on today. I want to tell you some things. First, everything I say on here I feel deeply, I believe to be true, and I pretty much don’t pull any punches. I’ve opened myself up, made myself vulnerable, handed you my heart-strong feelings on a screen and I’ve shared them with everybody and anybody who wants to read them.

For any who were interested I’ve related all the processes of everything I’ve been through, from getting ready to get out of prison, to finally acknowledging, “Yes I am getting out, this is happening,” and then actually dealing with moving towards the second that it happened. I’ve put my tears into this, I’ve put my failings in this and I’ve put my triumphs in this. And while they may not seem like much of a triumph to the world at large it has meant living in a world that remembers where I came from and how long I was there.

Twenty seven years ago I lost the love of my life. Truth of the matter is, she left because of me; because of my lifestyle, my attitudes, my propensity to commit crimes so horrible that no one should be allowed to do — and I wasn’t. As I’ve said before, I paid the price for that but I never told you about the greatest cost. My behavior cost me the woman I love more than anything in the world. She left because she was afraid of who I had become and who I would become if I was released.

Even with that she still supported me in front of the parole board as did her family by letters. In truth she was afraid that I would take her down with me in a hail of gunfire and I’m sorry to tell you that her fears were almost dead right on the money. I cannot blame her a bit for having left. After I came home the first time from the feds, I tried to find her. I gave a lump sum of money to an attorney and within a week he returned to report that she was dead. He said there was no record of her anymore, so she was dead and he suggested maybe I should move on with my life. The short and sweet of it, I went off the deep end; I wanted to die too. I just didn’t have the guts to keep going in a world without her.

As hard as this may be for some of you to believe, some men love their wives or lovers so deeply that there is no world without them. They may not tell you that when they have the remote on Sunday football. They may not tell you that you’re the reason they want to continue drawing breath and life. They may not tell you that you are in every smile and every thought and every action. But ladies, let me tell you something, that’s the truth of the matter. Most men won’t say it. They’re all stuck on that “Macho, I’m a man” thing, but the bottom of the matter is some men love that deeply.

So I picked up a weapon and I went out and committed a bunch of crimes hoping they would kill me upon apprehension. It didn’t work out that way. There’s nothing like having the law get the drop on you. Unless you’ve ever been in a situation like that you’ll never know what I’m speaking about in that instance. I hope to God, I hope by everything that’s sacred you don’t.

There’s nothing good in being bad. Let that one sentence stand on its own merit cuz it sure the hell can. The only thing in being bad is pain and anguish, loss and sorrow and hurting others. If you find anything good in that, turn this computer off and leave this page cuz this ain’t the place for you.

So, a month after I came home I received a Facebook friend request from someone with a name that struck me as odd and a face that looked hauntingly familiar so I thought I’d go ahead and accept. The information provided in the profile included things that intrigued me because there was really only one person who would know those dates and places. Then I saw a picture of a tattoo, the same tattoo I have on my left forearm. My wife, my ex-wife, Janice, designed it and had it put on her inner arm before I ever got it and in fact she gave the pattern to me. It was our credo and our little motto:

“Forever I have, Forever I will” …love you.

Immediately I responded with, “Where the hell did you get that tattoo?” There’s only one person in the world that I know of with that tattoo?!? She, of course, responded just as defensively. Months before, Janice had discovered my book, Long Road Home, on line and had read about my entire journey. Even before she reached out to me, she knew that I was a changed man but was still unsure about how I would accept her.

So let’s get to the Hallmark moment: This was indeed my Janice, the woman I’ve loved more than any woman ever. The same woman whose lost love was enough to drive me to near suicide by cop. Yes, some men love that deeply. I just happen to be one of them.

Now Janice has come back into my life – like a storm, a whirlwind, a hurricane! For you music lovers, yes she rocked me Like a Hurricane! She had been following me all those years, keeping tabs on where I was, and how I was, and when I was getting out. The same woman I thought was dead, the woman I spent 20 some years in prison loving so deeply that I couldn’t come out of it. I lived with the anguish of having lost that love without ever telling her how sorry I was for the things that I had done, for the person I was, and never having the chance to tell her I’m not that person anymore.

This woman has come back and she has given me the opportunity to tell her how sorry I am and that I understand why she left. I also understand that the lawyer that took my money and told me she was dead scammed and robbed me. There’s such a thing as karma and he has passed away as well, so I guess that money is gone, but I’d sacrifice that money a hundred times over, a thousand times over, for just one moment of her time, one “Good Morning,” one “I love you.”

As much as possible we talk every day. We are as deeply in love as two people can be and it’s not going to stop. This isn’t puppy love infatuation stuff, this love has endured for more than 25 years. Neither of us ever stopped loving the other. For her, enough to follow me all those years in her sorrow of having walked away. Me for all those years and my sorrow for having sent her away by my own behaviors.

Let me tell you something. I was wrong and she was right. I can’t get her to agree to that 100% but she sees my logic. Had I not been a bad man she would have still been with me all those years and I venture to say that had I changed before she left I would never have gone back to prison. Her love sustains me. She makes me want to be a better person just to make her proud to be my woman.

And now Janice, this woman, this amazing woman is in the process of turning her whole life upside down just to get back to me, to be with me! How powerful is that love? Have you ever felt love that strong? If not, I’m sorry; really, really sorry because until you do you’ll never understand just how powerful love can be.

So for the moment I’ll say this. Walmart wouldn’t hire me, so you won’t get to hear me say “Hi, Welcome to Walmart. Enjoy your shopping experience.” Evidently there are people more qualified to say that than I am. But that’s okay. Creator has my back and when the time is right I’ll find what I need to do. At this moment I’m waiting for a phone call from a company interested in the real qualifications on my resume. If after an in-person interview they decide to offer me a job I will be able to earn $18 an hour to train as a CNC (Computer something something) operator machinist. As you can see, I need the training. I can’t wait to go out to talk with them and then get to work. The work schedule won’t conflict too terribly with my college studies. I may have to rearrange my classes, but that’s alright. This is not a race, it’s an endeavor and besides that, Janice and I will need the income when we are remarried and move into our new apartment.

Forward Momentum

Step Into the Light

November 30, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Well hello again. November has been one hell of a month and a lot has gone on for me. It started with a bang with these people running out of my insulin. The obvious results of that fiasco you can see if you check out Chapter Nine, Who Cares?.  

Other significant things have happened since then – some wonderful, some not so wonderful, some just a pain in the hind end. The best part is I’ve finally been given a little more freedom and that makes me happy. The other day I was allowed to go to the post office to mail some Christmas gifts that Leontien, my wonderful sister in Europe, wanted me to send. It’s about eight blocks to the post office from here, so I decided to walk. I took the smuggle buggy (my walker) and proceeded on down 11th Street south to Monroe where I took a hard right and proceeded down the eight blocks to 4th Street to the post office.

While walking down Monroe it occurred to me that a very big building across the street looked hauntingly familiar. This federal courthouse is the same building that I was sentenced in and sent immediately to prison from 24 years ago. So I thought this would be a good time for me to take a break, sit down and reflect a little bit. I decided to take a couple pictures with my phone too.

After all, this is the first time I’ve been on this side of that building without being in a van, shackled and handcuffed, with a police escort on my way to a court appearance. I was free and I was doing a normal person’s business in a normal way. What a wonderful feeling! The people in every car that passed me had no idea of my tie to this building or the past that created that tie. To them I was just an old man with a walker heading somewhere. I’m okay with that.

I’m also okay with the fact that while sitting out front of that building across the street, I knew that I had done everything that building required me to do and now it is time for me to get on with my life and the everyday things that make that life worth living, one of them being sending something beautiful to my adopted sister, who’s a caring and giving human being herself.

After taking care of business at the post office, I turned to walk the eight blocks back to 11th Street. Along the way I stopped at the Cafe Moxo and ordered a Diet Pepsi. It occurred to me there as well that these people have no idea what I think or what I feel. To them I’m just another passing customer, perfectly entitled to be in their place of business for no other purpose than to buy something, and it felt damned good to be somewhere amongst people that didn’t know my past and didn’t care.

I happened to look towards the back of the restaurant in the cook’s area that’s open to the front and saw one of the guys that lives over here and is in the same program I’m in at the halfway house. I yelled back to him, “Hey, it’s about time you did something worthwhile.” He laughed and waved; I waved and went on about my business. On the way back to my domicile, I cut through the courtyard of the old State Capital Building, now a National Historical Site, and stopped to visit with an old friend and his family.

Now this was before Thanksgiving that I had this little walkabout to the post office. Then on Thanksgiving Day the Creator truly blessed me again, letting me spend time with my family. These are people I hadn’t been able to celebrate a holiday with in more than 25 years. To be sure, this fact wasn’t their fault; it was mine. But now it was my greatest pleasure as well to be there with them, to eat, to laugh, to see how they’ve all grown up and some of us old – well, old-er – but we’re not going to talk about that.

I have to say, Babs, that was the best day I’ve had in 37 years and it was all because of you! You kind of forced me out of my shell, my own self-imposed exile, worried that I really wouldn’t be welcome, or that my presence would make the whole day uncomfortable for some of us. But it wasn’t that way at all. Once again, you showed yourself to be the matriarch of our family and I thank you for that!

The food was awesome too and I wish I could have taken some back. But guess what? There’s going to be lasagna at Christmas! Some of you may not know, but my sister-in-law, Babs, makes the best lasagna in the universe and over the decades I have often dreamed of her lasagna. That dream will come true when I get to spend Christmas with my family.

One person will be missing on that special day, but that too is about to change. Since our long-distance reunion, things have progressed so far and so fast, but not fast enough. Janice, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. But you already know that and I know you feel the same way. So I got to go to Thanksgiving and I came back and we moved on.

Now, I’m not griping about anything, which is somewhat rare for me. Well, not really…what a lot of people think are complaints are just my pointing out the simple truth. They just sound like complaints cuz sometimes the truth sucks. But it’s not bad, the truth. Maybe my delivery isn’t always the best, maybe it’s a little bit blunt. Maybe it’s because I love the Creator more than deception, I love my walk on the Red Road and my belief in my spiritual betterment more than I do candy coating anything.

So this morning, I was scheduled to go out to the college to keep two appointments. Late yesterday I was informed by staff that I had a follow-up visit with the doctor this morning. So I went in and raised hell saying that it’s obvious that if I fail this semester it’s because they’ve managed to keep me from going to college to learn how to use a computer and do the most simple things to submit my homework assignments every week. The powers that be then allowed me to reschedule my trip to the college for tomorrow. So I go to my doctor appointment this morning only to find out I had come a day early. Yes, staff had mistakenly given me the wrong date!

Now, long story short, my morning was shot but staff did give me a pass to go on out to the college in the afternoon. But while I was waiting to leave, the best thing happened. . . I called Walmart and was able to talk directly with the HR lady to ask why a pre-arranged phone interview for yesterday never happened. After we talked a bit she asked me to come on in tomorrow for a personal interview. She sounded very positive and I’m holding that thought. Then on the bus headed to the college, I had a call to come for another job interview. So for sure, things are looking up on the job search – and I really, really need a job.

On another front, since “the accident,” which is what they are calling what happened when I was getting back on my insulin after they failed to provide my doses for 5 days, they knew I had been seeking a personal injury lawyer. I just got an email from the attorney asking if I received her letter in regards to “the accident.” Surprise, surprise. . .no I didn’t. So I told her that and she’s now sending it again certified registered return receipt requested with my signature only. Smile, looks like somebody else sees the fault in things that have happened.

So after I raised hell about not getting to go to the college yesterday and having to cancel appointments, and another snafu this morning, these people were gracious enough to allow me to go this afternoon instead and I appreciate that. I was able to get some things done out at the school. Everyone was extremely helpful and understanding of my situation. I know they will do everything possible to help me succeed with my goals. The job front looks promising as well, so I can’t complain. The only thing I know for sure is November is almost gone. Today is the last day and I got to share that month with everybody that gives a damn about me – my friends, my family, and you, my beloved Mitiwan.

A very wise person told me just this morning things are going to be what they’re going to be. My interpretation of that is: it is what it is – no more, no less – the Creator has my back, so let’s get on with it. Some people here can’t really get anything figured out in regards to me but that’s okay because I’m going to keep pushing and that’s what I need to do if I want to be able to continue to look you in the eyes or tell you in this matter, I am Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender.

Thanksgiving Truth

Step Into The Light

November 24, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Walks On The Grass

My earliest memories of this day are being in school. I might have been six or seven years old and the teacher had us all draw turkeys. What we did was lay our little fat pudgy kid hands on paper and trace around it with a pencil. Then we drew a little beard on the end of the thumb and an eyeball and made a little beak. Some of us even got adventuresome and tried to figure out if turkeys had ears and if so how did you draw ears on a turkey. At the end of the day we took our little turkey hand drawings home and proudly presented to mom. She put it on the refrigerator in honor of this day, Thanksgiving.

Now, universally, Thanksgiving is known as the day that the Indians and the pilgrims had a big feast and they were all friends and they were all happy. The truth of the matter is it didn’t go down like this but they didn’t want you to know that when you were a kid so what they told you was the pilgrims and the Indians had that feast and they were all happy and they were all friends that’s how everything went.

When the pilgrims came to this land after being thrown out of their own or left in exile, most were running for their lives because of their religious beliefs and the fact that they were being persecuted, jailed, beaten, put in stocks for what they believed, for their own approach to the Creator. They got here in the “new world” or what is now the United States and didn’t have a clue on how to cultivate food or hunt for meat in our lands, so they began to starve.

The Natives saw this and because we are a people of giving and understanding and kindness, we helped them. We welcomed them into our world, we fed them and we gave them food to take home to their families so that they would be able to eat another day. When spring came around we sent delegations of our people to their people to teach them how to plant and cultivate food in this new land they had come to so that they could praise and pray to their God without being persecuted.

Didn’t go over so well with them though. Too many were not willing to spend the work or the time to nurture the crops so when the crops failed and winter approached they began starving again in their villages. So once again we came to them with our arms open taking them into our world and feeding them, befriending them and making things right for them and again showed them the compassion of our God, our Creator or our concept of creation. Never once did we claim our way was the right way, only that we had learned with the help of our Creator how to live in harmony with the Creator and the land and learned to sustain ourselves with the crops that we grew with the blessings of our Mother Earth we were upon.

Again they were not satisfied, and as winter broached bringing its icy fingers and chilling winds, the pilgrims decided the best plan was to come and raze the villages of the Indians, to attack them and take what they wanted be it food, hides, tools or lives. After these raids the pilgrims went back to their village and they had a feast with the food of the people they had just attacked; the same people who fed them, sheltered them and taught them how with labor and care to grow their own crops, to hunt their own game, to sustain their own way of life in order to approach their Creator in their own way.

They don’t tell you this when you’re little; they don’t tell you the truth. After all, how do you tell a child that it’s okay to attack and harm another person just because they have more than you or they believe differently than you or they feel differently than you or they live differently than you even if the way they are living was right and just and fair and kind and giving and trusting?

I’m not trying to harsh your vibe on this of all days. Today I give thanks and you have no idea how blessed I feel today. I will go and eat with my family, my people who are good and kind, generous, trusting and flawed just like Indians. Maybe the first time I’ve been able to be with them in more than 30 years. I’m nervous and I’m scared. After all, the tables I have eaten around for the past 30 years were filled with people that act like pilgrims, including myself. With the help of the Creator, I brought about a change in myself. With the teachings and guidance of wise elders, I was nurtured like that corn plant; it grew up into a beautiful stalk and produced ears of corn that in turn fed all the other people around it, helping them survive and thrive.

That’s kind of how I feel now. I’m growing the ears of corn, trying to produce, to feed others with my knowledge, my understanding, my compassion. I just want people to know there are better ways than being like an ungrateful pilgrim, not that there’s a better way to approach the Creator but because the approach to the Creator is a personal Journey, there is no wrong way to go to God, humbly seeking enlightenment, whether it be the ability to help others and feel good in doing it or to help yourself and feel better when you do.

This is just an observation from an Indian who has spent over half his life acting like a pilgrim. This is my first Thanksgiving free of captivity in 30 years. Today I choose to be an Indian, in my thinking, my mannerisms, my approach to the Creator and most of all in my approach to you. I will give to you. I will feed you. I’ll take you into my home or into my world as it is, and I will protect you while you’re there with all that I am able. I will give thanks for you being there and thanks for me being able to be with you.

I won’t forget the sacrifices that it takes to be an Indian. I won’t forget the lives lost or taken on either side. I won’t allow the discussion to be about desperation or entitlement or selfishness. What I will do is say if you’re hungry come to me I’ve got some food. If you need shelter come to me, I’ve got three blankets. I don’t need three blankets, I’ll give you one of them. If you need someone to pray with, come to me. I’ll pray with you and be honored to do so. My approach might be a little different than yours but it’s still going to the same place – the same Being, the same Great Mystery. And if you trust me long enough I will show you that we can do this with kindness in our hearts, peace in our souls so finally we can give thanks together.

I understand that some Native people want to call this a national day of mourning but I think we should call it a national day of celebration for I have something more to be thankful for today. After all that’s been done to our people we have stood strong in our resilience. We have been able to produce loving families, doctors, lawyers, educators, writers, artists, entertainers and so many others who have helped our people in so many ways.

So you can mourn if you want to. That’s your business but this is coming straight from the heart of an old man. I choose to celebrate who I am and what I am. I’m tired of falling back on the same old stories, the same old angers, the same old excuses. I choose to celebrate my people and who we are and how we heal.

Please understand, I’m Walks On The Grass and I will never surrender.

Giving Thanks

Step Into The Light

November 17, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Family. They say you can’t pick your family. I don’t know if that’s absolutely true; sometimes your family picks you. I know that recently I’ve gone through some real serious events and those that reacted with words of compassion and anger against the machine that created the situations were family. They didn’t falter, they didn’t run for cover or opt out of helping me; they stood their ground over what had been done and what had not been done. They have gone through all the hoops, contacted people and encouraged me to contact others. They have given me strength when I really just wanted to curl up in a little ball like a wounded animal.

You know who you are but I want to name you anyway cuz you are my family: Bob and Babs, Mike and Karen, Janice, Leontien, and Sings. And there are others as well, special people who sent messages with words of encouragement or to express their outrage at what had happened.

Sometimes we take our families for granted; sometimes our families take us for granted, but one thing is certain they’re still your family. You don’t have to like everything they do or have done; they don’t have to like everything you do or have done, but that doesn’t change the simple fact that they are family.

I’ve learned that families mean unconditional love and forgiveness. I’ve learned that families mean encouragement in the face of all odds. I’ve learned that families are really all that matters outside of love, but that’s what the word family means to me – love. Often times I reflect on the sad person that I was and then I’m amazed that my family has stayed with me throughout.

Whenever I needed a helping hand they were there. Whenever I was being wronged they voiced their outrage and did whatever it took to make someone hear their screams of anger. Because they are my family and they love me and they care, just as I love them and care. I’m thanking the Creator in this moment for allowing me to finally have become the man that can realize what family even means.

In this time of holiday seasons we must let the past be the past. Nobody guarantees the future so we had better live life now. In this world that seems so full of anger and selfishness and disappointments, one thing is for certain, you always have your family and you can always cherish and nurture the love in your heart for them. When you gather for Thanksgiving dinner, smile and tell each one that you appreciate being able to be with them and to share this meal. And when you give your thanks to the Creator for this meal, give thanks also for your family.

Families will sacrifice, say things you don’t want to hear, say things you need to hear, and be there when you need them; that’s what families do. I know I’m truly blessed by the Creator to have my family and I’m very proud to be one of them.

In spite of all the madness of the past, they are still my family. I can think of no greater blessing, no greater reward for having finally found my way through the Creator, back to my family. I want you guys to know that I love you. I want to tell the whole world I love you. Just like I put all my heart out in these chapters, I want you to know that my love goes out in this chapter as well, to you with thanks for all that you do.

Bob and Bab you guys are some kind of special. I don’t even know how to put my feelings for you guys into words; all I can do is tell you that I love you and know that you’ll find your understanding of that in your own ways.

Mike and Karen you guys also are the best kind of family. You’ve always been there for me and you always will be. Just knowing that brings peace in my heart. I love you and I thank you.

Someone that I love deeply, dearly and profoundly told me this morning that she was humbled and honored to be loved by me. I need you to know, Janice, that I’m the one who has received the blessings in this; you have finally come back to me and we are family. Our love endured for more than thirty years. Even when we were apart, we were together. There is no stronger bond than that kind of love and I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again.

Leontien, you’ve been a sister to me for more than a decade. You stepped into my life just when I needed you. I had lost my sister years before and still grieved for her. You never had a brother so with your love and kindness you made me your brother and you shared your family with me. I’m glad to know your brilliant husband and it makes me proud when your beautiful girls call me Uncle Steven. You came across the oceans to see me while I was in prison. You said it was no big thing, but for me it was a very big thing. Your warmth radiates from your smile and your love illuminates the world around you just as you’ve illuminated my life and those around you and all you touch. Goes Far Woman, I’m so honored to call you my sister.

And to Sings, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’ve said it before but it’s still just as true in this second. In this moment you make me be a better man because I never want you to be disappointed in me so I will do everything in my power to keep that from ever happening.

There are a few more people that I want to mention. To me, they are family too. Even though some of my other family do not know them, you have heard their names from me often because these friends have stood by me for years. They have helped me and done so many things for me. They’ve kept me sane! Paints On The Rocks, you’ve talked me off the ledge more than one time. Karen, yours has always been a voice of reason as well. You guys have never denied me anything that you knew I needed. For all of this, I want to tell you I love you and I’m thankful to have you as family.

My love to Jessica and Cat In The Forest. Cat, you’ve been one of my best brothers for all these years. When you went home I felt like a piece of me had been torn off. But then you met Jessica and formed your own family and what a beautiful family it is! Jessica is a wonderful woman and a good mother. I know she loves you dearly with the unflinching love that only comes from family. I no longer feel a part of me is missing; that part of me has found its home too. You two have welcomed me into your family with open arms and I want you to know that I love you and I thank you for it.

I don’t know whether this should be called family or thankful but what I do know is you are my family – ALL OF YOU – and I’m thankful.

I’m Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender!

Who Cares?

Step Into The Light

November 12, 2022

By Steven Walks On The Grass

I’ve been going through it here at this place, we all know that, but the last few days have been over the top. For the second time since I’ve been here they ran out of my long-acting insulin. I take two kinds, a short acting and a long acting as well as Metformin. Last Saturday morning I alerted staff to the fact that I did not have insulin for my next dose. One of the nurses office staff, who’s actually very helpful and a pretty good guy, got right on it and called the supervisor.

She then called and got the prescription ordered through the pharmacy and I thought that that was going to be all it took. How wrong could I be? Afterward, when they called to ask if the prescription was ready and available to be picked up I was told I needed to call the pharmacy. So I called and gave them the numbers they needed, then they told me they could fill the prescription but it could not be picked up without the proper insurance forms or $357 in cash.

Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t happen to have an extra $357 laying around nor am I required to pay for my own medications while I’m officially still an inmate in custody of the Federal Bureau of Prisons. The people here at the halfway house are under contract with the BOP and it is their duty to handle all ordering and paying for all my medical needs. The person at the pharmacy then went on to inform me in a most disdainful manner that the medical card these people had tried to use for insurance was not only invalid but void.

Question of the day: Where and how am I supposed to get my insulin?

So I call the Medical Center where they took me for my physical check-up and prescriptions and spoke with the on-call doctor. She told me that yes the prescription was written and yes it was ready for pickup, but the insurance card provided by the facility was no good. I asked if I could do without that long acting insulin until Monday as I was told to do by the supervisor who handles such situations for the facility.  That’s right! The supervisor’s exact words were, “Oh you’ll be all right, you’ll just have to tough it out until Monday.” This coming from a woman who is herself a diabetic and has had many complications with her disease. Who should know better what diabetes can do to you if not properly taken care of?

The on-call doctor told me that the people here needed to do something and highly recommended that I not go without this long acting insulin. She said in fact it is more important in my treatment than the fast acting insulin and told me that Walmart carries emergency dosages that can be purchased over the counter for around $25. All I had to do was get there and pick it up. I would have to pay for it myself, of course but I’ve got to do something.

When I went back up to the desk and informed staff of this I was told that they were not going to call the supervisor back and that her instructions were, and I quote: “If his sugar level reaches 500, put him in an ambulance to the hospital. Don’t bother me anymore.”

So even though they have a van sitting outside for the purpose of taking people where they need to be for medical care, no one was about to approve transportation  for me to go purchase the emergency doses myself. That’s what happened so I had to go without adequate meals and tough it out until Monday. What did I do? I sent an email complaint to the BOP Community Corrections Management Coordinator who supervises the halfway houses in this district concerning the abuse and neglect.

Next question of the day is: Who cares? I’ll tell you who cares, Sings cares, Bab cares, Karen cares, my brothers care, Janice cares, my whole family cares, and I care about the situations they have put me in.

In situations like this I’m helpless. I can’t just walk out the door and go to Walmart myself. Nor do I have money to pay for insulin even at Walmart over the counter for emergency purposes. I don’t have a job and I’m having a hard time finding any place that will hire me…that’s another issue. In fact, on November 5th, I sent a letter to the editor of the Illinois State Journal Register newspaper describing my plight. So far I’ve filled out 35 applications and been to 11 interviews. Still no job. The sad thing is people see a 62-year-old with a walker and no computer skills and I don’t get the job. It doesn’t matter how many skills, experience, and abilities I have, I’m never given a chance.

That’s a shame. I want to work. I have to work. I have no money. How will I support myself? I’m enrolled in Lincoln Land Community College as a full-time student with my first semester day being January 9, 2023. I can’t wait to start. It’s one step closer to my dream of becoming a certified alcohol and drug counselor, one step closer to my dream folks, but three steps behind how will I get there.

To date I have spent  more than $80 on bus fares because this facility refuses to provide bus tokens. “Oh, we don’t have the funds for that yet,” they say, when I know they get $54,000 per year from the BOP for every inmate they house. I’m not begrudging them that money but I would think that out of that they could certainly afford to see to it that I had my insulin and some bus tokens to help me look for work.

So Saturday and Sunday go by and still no insulin but they did promise I would have it on Monday morning. Wrong again! By 3:00 pm on Monday still no insulin had been purchased by the staff. However the woman who said they should “Send him to the hospital if his blood sugar got over 500 and not to bother her,” was extremely cordial for the first time ever when I confronted her about the situation. I assured her that unless I received my evening dose on time my family would be contacting an attorney. Still no insulin on Monday evening but promised to have it Tuesday morning.

Tuesday morning family had had enough and started making phone calls, leaving messages insisting on immediate attention to this huge problem. I reached out to my senator’s office as well and started my search for an attorney.

With seeming ignorance of this unresolved problem, the supervisor went out to work in the field. By 1 pm I asked a staff member who likes to play big shot why I didn’t have my insulin. He said he would call the boss and then reported to me that I should call the pharmacy myself to see if the prescription had been filled. So I did.

I talked with Chris, the pharmacist. Chris told me that my prescription was ready but the insurance information they had was not valid. He was sympathetic to my situation and told me to tell “those people” that they need to get their business together.

I relayed the message to this staff person and told him I had already called a law firm and insisted they make getting my insulin a top priority. After a while I was informed that the boss did give permission for staff  to take me to Walmart to purchase an emergency dose with my own money, so that is what I was finally doing at 2:00 pm on Tuesday afternoon.

On the employment front, despite all this hassle, I did keep one last appointment with an agency on Monday morning. We discussed my issues about being automatically turned down due to age, disabilities and lack of computer skills despite outstanding qualifications & experience in many areas. The consultant said she would re-submit my resume with a strong suggestion to a couple of companies that need employees with my skills and suggest that in-house computer training would be in the best interest of the company. Don’t know if that will do any good, but I’ve had it. After purchasing my own vile of insulin I was left with $2. In my pocket. So be it. They hassle me for selling my jewelry, but I wonder what they expect me to do for income?

Next and final question: Who really does care? After all I’m just an ex-con, in a world that seems to turn its back on men that are coming home after paying the price for their committed crimes and want to do the right thing to become productive citizens, to make a difference and to make their lives count for something. I don’t know what happened to the world while I was gone, but folks, I am not impressed with what it is now that I’m home.

Nothing changes when no one changes. I once wrote a song about this. One of the lines went, “If you don’t like the way the world is, then change it, just change it. It’s your obligation to change it but do it one step at a time.”

I’m not ranting, I’m not even mad or upset, more in disbelief than anything but I promise you this I will not lose my faith in the goodness of humanity. I will not lose sight of my goals or my dreams, nor should you lose sight of yours. Wish somebody could tell me if my perception of the world now is inaccurate. The Creator knows I wish they would tell me that I was wrong about this.

Thursday – Last minute update. As of Wednesday morning, the big guns from headquarters were in the house. Everyone was being extra polite or ignoring me all together except my actual case manager, Ms. Hughes, who had never been informed of any of this. When she asked if I planned to go out to the college on Friday to start working in the computer lab to learn how to use it before school starts in January, I responded that indeed that is my plan. She told she would see to it I had a box lunch to take with me so I wouldn’t have to buy my own lunch.

Not long after that conversation, it came time for me to take my insulin. I knew it was dangerous to just stop taking the long-acting insulin and had not felt well, so had cautiously started back on it with smaller doses. So after taking my first full dose after dinner, I went to sit outside on the seat of my walker. The last thing I remember was getting choked on a sip of water and then waking up with my face plastered on the cement. My friend called for help and the next thing I’m in an ambulance headed for the emergency room.

Day of Injury Nov 10, 2022

After assessing all injuries to head, arms, hands and wrists, the doc tried to figure out what happened and why. My blood sugar was at an ok level, so he asked me to relate everything that had happened. I was told in no uncertain terms that no diabetic should ever just stop taking their long-acting insulin even if the need is minimal. The dose should be gradually reduced over a two week period or it will cause the body to go into shock. So the doc felt that between the shock of my insulin level being so erratic and hyperventilation from coughing, that the momentary lack of Oxygen was all it took for me to pass out.

Day 2 – Nov 11, 2022

So there it is. . . Fortunately, I had another pair of glasses since the ones I was wearing were smashed between my face and the concrete. Looks like I won’t be going to the college to work on my computer skills for awhile though. Got some healing to do first.

Thanks for caring. Walks

UPDATED

Day 3 – Nov 12, 2022

To a Gracious Southern Lady

Barry Standard – Keeper of Traditions

By Edna Peirce Dixon

Yes, Barry! This is about you! And thank you once again for yet another beautiful birthday card with a newsy hand-written note. Congratulations on your first great granddaughter after all those great grandsons and so glad you are keeping up with things on Facebook. . .

Every November for more than 60 years, when my birthday rolls around, there has always been a card in my mailbox. Inside, a hand-written note wishing me and my family well and filled with news of family and activities that would brighten my day. It did not matter that I failed often to respond or even to remember her on her special day, Barry was constant and I’m quite sure she was equally as thoughtful of many others as well.

Macon Hospital School of Nursing 1956-57 – Vibrant young women of the fifties (Barry front 2nd from left)

Though our paths have seldom crossed since our days in nursing school together, the times we did have were significant and memorable. We were not particularly close in school, but within a few years after graduation, circumstances would bring us together in a time when we both needed a connection. We had both married and each had a child. Barry’s husband was in the military stationed near Columbia, SC and my husband was a fulltime student at the University of South Carolina.

I had taken my first job working evening shift in the premature nursery at the old Columbia Hospital and Barry came to work evenings as well in a different department. I will never forget what a harrowing experience Barry had on her very first day of work. Without even a cursory orientation to the department, Barry was assigned as charge nurse, and among her charges, a critically ill patient. Not even the most experienced nurse ever wants to lose a patient, but we learn to take death in stride. Not so much when you are young and on your own in a strange environment with little support. This was my time to comfort Barry in her great distress when her patient passed that evening. I know she thought about quitting right then and there; I would have too, but no, this intrepid young woman came back and built a great nursing career.

Our friendship grew during that short time together. Barry sewed a darling Easter dress for my little girl. It was a beautiful aqua blue with ricrac trim. She made it with an extra deep hem that could be let down, so my tiny slender girl wore that sweet little dress for several years, long after our paths parted again and we each moved on to other places. The cards and letters continued – Barry’s regular at birthday and Christmas; mine haphazard, though my intentions were always good. But this is not the end of Barry’s thoughtfulness.

Several years ago, along with her newsy letter in my birthday card, she enclosed an envelope with a letter I had written to her in 1970, 45 years earlier, telling of our family activities in Texas and reminiscing about our time in Columbia. Oh, what a magnificent gift to have that letter to share with my now grown children! I asked that same little daughter who wore the sweet aqua blue dress with ricrac trim to read the letter out loud at a family gathering. We were all so touched.

My own life path took me back to school in the 80ies. This was when necessity called for a typewriter for my papers, but my husband insisted I needed a computer. I thought home computers were just a useless fad, but I went along with his better judgment, and nearly went bald from pulling my hair out trying to learn how to use the damned thing! But learn I did, and my skills grew as the internet grew, so this mode of communication is as automatic as breathing to me. I do understand, however, why many of my generation are still uneasy with computers, and sometimes I’d like to scream over the waste of such marvelous communications technology on utter nonsense as we now see all too often on Facebook.

After her retirement, and I’m sure with the encouragement of grandchildren, Barry got herself a FB page. And though she doesn’t use it much, we connected and lazy ole me… I start sending her online e-birthday wishes. Despite this, I still get the handwritten letter in a traditional birthday card. Old habits are hard to break. Then, once again on my birthday, another of Barry’s cards arrived right on time. And once again, it included an old letter she found. This time it was one I wrote to her on February 15, 1985. It started with an apology that it would be late for her birthday… (so what else is new?) The rest of the letter goes on to tell about having an empty nest with all the boys gone off to college, and my decision to go back to college. Oh, my, what fun I was having, how I loved going to school. I didn’t mention that I was still working part time at the hospital but talked about the new raptor center I was volunteering at and told her I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.

In her note, Barry asked me if I ever finished school. Barry, I can honestly tell you I never did and never will. To bring you up to date, after taking every course they offered that interested me at my local community college, I went on to U.T. After a couple of semesters taking only courses I wanted, they kind of kicked me out when I balked over some of the less palatable required stuff. So the counselor suggested that if I wanted to write, that I should start writing! Duh! So, since I was not looking for a career, that’s exactly what I decided to do.

Barry, you also mentioned in your note that the present generation will not have letters to hold their memories for future generations. How sadly true this is. So my sweet friend, this transplant, this adopted southerner, salutes you for your lifelong friendship and thoughtfulness. It gives me great pleasure to write this little piece about you. When I think of you and our classmates as well as many of my childhood friends growing up in middle Georgia in the 40s and 50s, one thought comes to mind: You are the epitome of the perfect Southern Lady – far more than a fictional Steel Magnolia – a strong, loving, capable woman of faith and dignity who has faced difficult circumstances on your own terms and made enormous contributions to all that is right and good in the world. I love you and hope you will keep using that computer to write down your own remarkable story for future generations.

Thank you for being you!

Fondly,

Edna