Love, Daddy

Christmas Wishes & Satellite Dishes

2011-12-24T12:04:00.000-05:00

My jailed deaf dad wrote with his Christmas wish list. He's jealous of the other inmates with New Balance sneakers & wants a pair for himself. I don't want to disappoint him, but I think Santa knows that he's been naughty.

Ahhh, who am I kidding, I'll get him the shoes. They're out of stock in his size right now but I sent the extra $40 for his inmate trust fund to cover the cost.

The other inmates apparently know how resourceful I am for Dad, conducting research & ordering things for him, so they asked him to enlist my help in getting their satellite television restored. This is the second of two pages outlining their frustration and the technical glitches. I ignored the indignation they showed at not being able to watch cable TV, a luxury to some folks. Inmates have absolutely nothing so the weirdest, most minor things can cause a riot. Cable? Huge. HUGE! It's safer for everyone if they have a working television. I shared this page because, well, you'll see. Classic Dad.

Oh yeah, and he also wrote to give me a heads up that he made a mistake & gave a sex offender inmate my address. Just what I need, another pen pal.

Cigo's Homemade Hot Damn Picante

2011-12-23T13:51:00.001-05:00

Are you in prison & craving some hot sauce? Well Dad will teach you how to make some in your cell.

Since fresh ingredients aren't readily available, he "pays" an inmate working the chow line for an onion with stamps and other currency in the form of commissary items.

Bonus: This recipe ferments a bit so you get a little buzz with the bite.

But I won't need to get drunk on Dad's prison picante sauce, because I got an amazing, surprise package of salsa and dip mixes from the proprietor of Big Dawg Salsa in Gainesville, TX. The mixes smell incredible. I can't wait to try these out over the holidays.

Check out their site here: www.bigdawgsalsa.com

Another First

2011-11-28T12:58:00.001-05:00

This is a week of firsts for me it seems. I created my first promotion and my first raffle and today I received my first review. From Publishers Weekly, no less.

They call my memoir "intensely readable" and say I "paint a vivid portrait of an impoverished childhood in rural Texas with hearing-impaired parents..."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Holiday Bonus Special!

2011-11-26T10:49:00.000-05:00

It's Black Friday! You know what would make an excellent gift for yourself or someone you love? My memoir BURN DOWN THE GROUND! Why? Because as Chris Regan, five time Emmy award-winning comedy writer for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, said “Kambri Crews’ remarkable memoir of her turbulent upbringing, BURN DOWN THE GROUND, will amaze, amuse and–most importantly—finally get you to stop whining about your own childhood.”

I know what you're thinking, "But, wait, your memoir isn't out until February 28th."

Here's what I'm gonna do for you...

Pre-order my memoir --send proof of purchase to me at kambricrews@gmail.com-- and I'll mail you an autographed bookplate (a sticker that you put on the inside of your book). That way you'll have something to give on Christmas day or Valentine's or any other gift giving occasion that occurs between now and February 28th. As an added bonus, I'll send you something from my apartment. A postcard, a CD from my husband's music collection, a can of tuna. Who knows what it'll be! For those in NYC, I'll also send an admit two pass to Gotham Comedy Club good through 12/30/11.

Be sure to let me know how you'd like it autographed, i.e., to whom should I make it out and what special message I should include, if any.

Offer ends 12/19/11.

Picture Day!

2011-11-09T16:41:00.006-05:00

It was picture day at prison, so I wore stripes. Dad didn't look scary like he did during the last visit when he had a shaved head and sallow complexion. This time he had hair (not a gray to be found even at almost 65 yrs of age!) and had a nicer, more flattering pair of glasses. He had taken the lenses out of his ugly "Buddy Holly" prison issued prescription glasses and shaved and shaped them by sanding them down on concrete to fit inside the more attractive frames of a pair of cheap reading glasses. The ingenuity!

I bought two photos thinking we would get a picture together and one of Dad by himself, but he protested. Why would I want a photo of just him? I really don't know. He is enamored of the photo of him in his old cowboy hat (The same hat one of my aunts plucked out of Dad's belongings after his arrest and gave to her grandkids to play cowboy and Indians. Not cool.), and I thought he'd want a more recent one of himself.

When I think about it, though, why would he want a solo shot of him in prison whites? I jokingly suggested he could use it to find a lady friend online. He said, sure if I'd help him find one. Ummmm, no. No, I will not help him find a lady friend. At least not until he admits he tried to kill the last one. So we used the two pictures to take close up and full body shots.

Dad and I had a great visit. We discussed banal things like his wanting a new pair of New Balance sneakers to current events such as the liberation of Libya and the Occupy Wall Street movements and random subjects like bullfighting and child molestation. Dad said a doctor once told him that if a girl has sex before she's had her first period, her vagina is irreparably stretched. What? Huh? GAH! I want to look it up, but I don't want that Google search infecting my computer's history. HA! Lord, my dad and I have some of the weirdest conversations.

We also talked about his upcoming review by the Parole Board. This June will be the first time he is eligible for parole. I explained the process and we both agreed it's unlikely he will be released. He wants to be, of course, but I don't think he's ready. He's never admitted guilt, taken responsibility or had any counseling to address his drug and alcohol abuse and anger management issues. The latter, I discovered, is because the prison doesn't provide an interpreter for those services. That is a direct violation of basic ADA laws. I'm going to look further into this, because those issues are exactly what landed him in jail in the first place. Without dealing with those demons, he will simply hurt someone else or their property and be back in the clink.

And, just like clockwork, he proved me right. I had stepped away to get us more drinks and candy from the vending machine. As I walked back I saw a "guard" trying to tell Dad something. I say "guard" in quotes because at about 5' tall and over 60 years old, she isn't guarding anyone or anything. She is simply there to greet family and tell them which table they're assigned to. Apparently while I was getting snacks, Dad had gotten up to throw away our trash. He did this twice, walking back and forth. That's a no-no. Oops. I would've just said sorry and made a mental note not to do it again. Not a big deal, right? Well not to Dad.

Being scolded was enough to make him furious. His face was so screwed up with anger, his skin flushed red and eyes turned black as he flipped his arms and hands angrily at her to get lost. I intervened and as she walked away I reminded Dad to not cause trouble. "Your mantra needs to be, 'Parole Board, Parole Board, Parole Board.'" With that he laughed and his normal color was restored.

But that flash of rage he demonstrated about a minor thing while he was completely sober, the contempt he carries for authority and rules and the disrespect he showed an elderly woman was enough for me to see that no, no he shouldn't be released. A knot in my throat formed and tears welled up. My father is broken. And all the king's horsemen and all the king's men, can't put my dad together again.

Daddie's Web: A Story of Friendship and Salvation in Prison

2011-11-02T10:51:00.006-04:00

Were you worried about Dad's suicide threat? If so, relax. He says he won't kill himself now because it's football season.

I purchased him Phil Steele's College Football Preview at his request and threw in the NFL preview for fun since the nice lady on the phone gave me half off the whole order for no reason. Apparently, they are awesome as Dad wrote to apologize for not writing sooner after receiving the issues "because Fatherfu*ker I got addicting to read them whole two weeks." And the studying worked because he won first place gambling on parlays last week netting him $45!

If you've read this blog for a while, you know this is something of a miracle. Dad, for as much as he knows about football and the players, never wins. I've paid off prison gambling debts for him and reduced the amount I give to his monthly trust fund to keep his habit in check.

Despite the win, he was still a loser. See, in prison, the money equivalent is food and he said they all eat nothing but junk. He had to do some trading to net some cruddy instant soup.

He also has another reason to live: A Daddy Long Legs spider in his prison cell that he's keeping as a pet. How he does this, I don't know. Just by not killing it or sweeping away its web? He has been feeding it bugs, though. He wasn't sure of its sex until another spider came along. They mated and now his pet has a sac of eggs on her mouth. His spider being female he has named her "Daddie." It'd be much better if he had a bird named "Jake" like Brooks did in Shawshank Redemption. A spider?

Maybe he can get Daddie to spin words like Charlotte did in Charlotte's Web. It saved Wilbur. Daddie could spin things like: "Some inmate!" "Innocent!" "Law Abiding!"

Prison (and loneliness) makes you do weird things.

Forgive Me

2011-09-20T11:43:00.000-04:00

This morning I got a letter from my jailed deaf dad in which he threatens to commit suicide or hurt a guard or prisoner so he can get put in Ad Seg or be killed.

I haven't written Dad since June. Not the longest I've gone without writing, but longer than I'd like. He had written me a letter that was inexplicably returned and so I hadn't heard from him either. That is, until my 5th wedding anniversary when I received his awesome handmade card and three letters: the original that had been returned to him and two others. In the original, he slanders my mom. I won't go into details as his stories are never to be believed entirely. He's like the National Enquirer: there are elements of truth underlying in his tales mixed with exaggeration or bald faced lies. His other two letters expressed some regret in sharing the info and saying he needed to get the gorilla off his back. (A gorilla? That is a lot to carry around!)

As with all his letters, there were numerous things he wanted (Phil Steele's College Football Preview) and answers he needed (What are rhinoceros horns made of?)*. Add the three letters together and I had two pages worth of a To Do list for him. So I procrastinated. Hey, I'm busy and he could stand to sweat a little if he's feeling guilty. He's done worse things that he's shown no remorse for like, say, I don't know... attacking my mom?!

Time got away and today is three months since I've written him. He's panicked, worried sick that I'm angry with him for the things he wrote. "Kambri, I do not want losing you I am going crazy if I lost you my daughter. Please forgive me. Can you forgive me? Will you forgive me? I am scared...I do not want to be living here if no money or no letter from you."

Words. He wants me to forgive him about some words he wrote that came from his heart during a time of stress. Interesting. I'm going to remind him of this moment after my book comes out.

In all my life, this is the first time he's asked me to forgive him of anything. I feel sad and guilty that he's so isolated and freaking out about not knowing how I am or what I'm feeling. But I'm also dumbfounded. I have forgiven him of far worse transgressions. Does he not realize that?

The thing is, about the stuff he wrote? I didn't care. I'm more bothered that I turned 40 and he never sent me a card. I'm gonna really rake him over the coals for that one. If only he were in the Free World I could play upon his guilt to get some awesome gift out of it. If only...

*Rhino horns are made of keratin, the same protein that makes up hair and nails. Weird.

The Smurfs (and Dad) Wish Us a Happy 5 Year Anniversary

2011-08-16T14:52:00.004-04:00

It's been five years since I married Christian at Galapagos Art Space in Brooklyn. The old mayonnaise factory was packed to the rafters with our friends and family. For me, the only one missing was Dad. He was indisposed at the time, or more specifically, four years into his twenty year sentence for attempted murder. Instead of attending the ceremony (not that he had a choice), he drew us a cute card and wrote a sweet speech wishing us well and reminding us to not try adultery, drunkness or dopeheads. (Click here for the original post with video & transcribed speech.)

As an inmate, my father has also become a prisoner to the calendar. This means Dad never misses an important date. Every August 12th, I can expect a letter or handmade card wishing us well. This year was no different. I guess the new Smurf's movie's PR & marketing has made it all the way to Dad's cellblock in Huntsville because the front pictures three Smurf characters, Smurfette, Brainy and, well, I don't know who that last one is. They are using ASL from left to right to sign the words: Happy -- 5 year -- Anniversary.

Once again, I am sincerely impressed with his artistic skills. In the accompanying letter, he says he'll buy two pints of ice cream from the Commissary to eat in celebration. That's as good an excuse as any considering he also describes his miserable summer in the blistering Texas heat without air conditioning.

In an ironic twist, the card arrived on August 15th, the 23rd anniversary of my father's attack on my mother, a date that I've never been able to stop remembering with or without a calendar. Also in a funny coincidence, when I was a kid my parents used to interrupt my enjoyment of the Smurfs on Saturday mornings by not realizing how loud their lovemaking sounds could be. I responded by cranking up the volume as loud as possible. When my mother finally emerged from their bedroom, she would put in her hearing aids and say, "Kambri! Why do you have the TV turned up so loud?!"

To this day when I hear the theme song for the "Smurfs" the first thing I think of has nothing to do with Gargamel. [Shudder.]

Oklahoma School for the Deaf names first deaf woman to lead | NewsOK.com

2011-08-15T19:59:00.000-04:00

Exciting news! The Oklahoma School for the Deaf (OSD) has appointed its first deaf woman superintendent. A lot of my family history lives in this institution. My grandfather, parents, aunts, uncle & dozens of family friends all attended this fine school in Sulphur, OK. Dad lived there most of the year from five years of age till he graduated. That's also where he met Mom when she started living there as a teen.

Growing up, I felt like OSD wasn't just where my family went to school, it was in our blood. The same way I inherited Mom's freckles and love of reading or Dad's smile and handwriting, OSD was part of my DNA. This is an exciting time for the students of OSD. They have a deaf role model (a woman!) to lead their way to a bright future.

The superintendent's plans include expanding the reading program which I think is a great idea for any student, but especially deaf kids. I wonder if they will include my book in their library since I tell their story of courtship at OSD as well as lots more about their experiences as deaf parents in the 70s and 80s. Though some subject matter in it might not be appropriate. Hey, maybe it will be banned! That would be exciting because who isn't curious to read a book after they're told they can't? It's like how my brother & I chose to watch a movie once the voiceover man sternly said, "Parental guidance is advised." A parental advisory always meant it was worth a look-see.
Oklahoma School for the Deaf names first deaf woman to lead NewsOK.com

Chris Lilley Portrays a Deaf Kid in "Angry Boys"

2011-08-09T12:13:00.001-04:00

I have a Google news alert for "deaf" and an article popped up from the Guardian (UK paper), about "Angry Boys" a BBC "mockumentary" starring Chris Lilley of "Summer Heights High" fame. The author of the article applauds Lilley for "breaking the mould for fictional deaf characters" by portraying a deaf boy named Nathan who, because of his family lacking knowledge of ASL or any deaf awareness, lashes out with really inappropriate behavior.

Not only does Lilley portray a deaf boy named Nathan, but Nathan's twin isn't deaf. And they live on a farm. Whoa. This describes my deaf father to a T! Dad also is a twin whose brother is hearing and also lived on a very isolated farm. And his family had no history of deafness and so did not know ASL or about Deaf culture. (Initially. Many went on to learn ASL and become part of the Deaf community.) Dad's family also happened to be very strict and religious. Things that did not mix well with my father's wild personality and pent up frustrations from being deaf. In writing my book, Burn Down the Ground: A Memoir, and peeking under the layers of my father's life, I've tried to find the rationale for how he fell so far from grace. While there is no *single* reason, I can say with full confidence that his upbringing and deafness had a lot to do with it.

So I, for one, will definitely be tuning in to "Angry Boys" to get a glimpse of what my father as a boy may have been like. And because I liked "Summer Heights High" and enjoy Lilley as an actor. Unfortunately the series isn't available in the US as of now, but is scheduled to be on HBO later this year. Date TBD from what I can tell.

Angry Boys website: http://www.angryboys.com/
Twitter: @AngryBoys
Read the article on Guardian.co.uk: Why Angry Boys' puerile deaf kid is my hero; Nathan, an alienated teenager played by Chris Lilley, has broken the mould for fictional deaf characters

Technology Helps Deaf and Blind Experience Broadway Theater

2011-06-02T13:52:00.001-04:00

A couple of years ago, I flew Mom in to NYC for a stay with me and took her to see her first Broadway Show, Superior Donuts, starring Michael McKean. I selected this play, instead of any of the long-running, sure-fire hits because it was to be Closed Captioned. In fact, it was the only show offering the service the week my mother happened to be in town, so really, I had no other choice. Luckily, it was a good play with a bonafide star whom my mother would be happy to see, but I was shocked that the pickings were so slim. Really, Broadway? You spend millions on a show and you can't manage to caption shows more often than once in a blue moon?

I took this frustration and used it as an opportunity to instill change at the now shuttered Comix, the comedy nightclub for which I booked, produced and promoted shows. After helping one show benefiting a Deaf charity with a captionist for their live comedy event, I saw just how easy and relatively affordable it was to do so on a regular basis. I had plans to have at least one show a week be captioned and calculated that I would offset the costs after selling just a few tickets. Only a few. Unfortunately, Comix closed before it could happen, but the lesson was learned: it really isn't that hard to accommodate the deaf and hard of hearing. With all the amazing technology today, it boggles the mind that an affordable, consistent solution hasn't been found for theaters, both cinematic and live.

Ask any actor who has performed live theater as I did for many years, Sunday matinees could always use some Closed Captioning! Those early afternoon shows are notorious for being filled with senior citizens who unknowingly shout into their companion's ears, "HUH?! WHAT'D SHE SAY?" as their junky amplifiers borrowed from the box office squeal and squeak.

Now, just two years later since Mom's first Broadway experience, I read the article below about this exciting advancement for four Broadway theaters. While four theaters out of several hundred is a small percentage, it's a start.

Technology Helps Deaf and Blind Experience Broadway Theater - WNYC Culture

The Bilingual Advantage

2011-05-31T16:35:00.002-04:00

The New York Times published an interesting Q&A today with cognitive neuroscientist, Ellen Bialystok, about the bilingual advantage. From the article:

Among other benefits, the regular use of two languages appears to delay the onset of Alzheimer’s disease symptoms.

I always buy my hearing, parents-to-be friends ASL books for this reason. My first sign was at five months old, and I was singing and talking fluently in ASL and oral English at only eighteen months old! If you want your kids to learn a new language, I recommend ASL and, later, Spanish. Sadly, being so far away from Deaf friends and family, I don't have many opportunities to use ASL and, per Bialystok, "You won’t get the bilingual benefit from occasional use." Rats.

And, even when I use ASL these days I find myself signing English. It's only when I'm visiting Mom, Dad or other relatives & close family friends that I grew up with where I really sink back into ASL. My vocabulary returns to me quicker with them, too. I wonder, as a CODA, is it worth taking ASL classes? Have you or someone you know benefited from them?

Pre-Order My Memoir!

2011-05-23T23:26:00.007-04:00

Pre-order now and by the time you get it it will feel like getting lay-a-way out of hock. And isn't that the best feeling in the world?

Hardcover version: Burn Down the Ground: A Memoir and the eco-friendly Kindle version: Burn Down the Ground: A Memoir

Dad's Birthday Card to Christian

2011-04-12T11:55:00.001-04:00

My husband, Christian Finnegan, is a stand up comedian and happens to be born on April Fool's Day. Dad drew him a card with a sweet note. (Below L to R is the Front, Inside Left and Inside Right). I have no idea why the front is more like a creepy Halloween card, but the inside is fun. It has a man* signing "Fool's Day" in ASL. I'm not sure that sign is universal, though.

*Or a lesbian? Or a punk? Those cheeks are awfully rosy.

Nick Quivers & His Mullet

2011-04-09T16:20:00.011-04:00

Over five years ago I wrote a piece to perform on the Drink at Work Show. It was about my dad giving me the horrific fatherly advice: "Don't fu*k!" in front of my date "Nick Quivers". Thankfully his blunt words were in ASL which Nick did not know.

In the piece I described my date as "a tall, deeply tanned eighteen year old decked out in tight acid wash jeans and a turquoise wife beater. He had a sparsely populated moustache and carefully crafted mullet, his bangs perfectly turned under by a curling iron."

I put Nick's name in quotes because that's not his real name. I used his real name when I posted the story on this blog not really thinking much of it. Nick was just a boy and an ancillary character. He could have been anyone and Dad would've freaked out in that moment.

Within a few days of posting the blog, I was surprised and excited to see an email in my inbox from none other than Nick Quivers. It had been almost 20 years since I'd last seen him! But my excitement quickly faded. Nick was angry with me. I was horrified. I had told a funny story of my father and, yikes, I didn't mean to upset anyone. What had I done or said in the post that could so have offended him? In sum, he objected to they way I described his clothing & hair. He said something along the lines of, "I never used a curling iron on my hair!! And I have NEVER worn a wife beater!"

It turns out, he's now a contemporary Christian rock star and didn't like his old, not so Christian self being drug out of the closet in story about a criminal. I dunno. What I do know is that I was really annoyed that I didn't have a single picture of him to reference. Had my memory failed me? Was I THAT far off? I've always had a pretty spot on recollection of events and conversations. I kind of pride myself in it. So maybe he didn't use a curling iron, but he curled his bangs under with something. I just knew it. But I decided to stand by my blog -- I was telling it how *I* remembered it, and we all tend to remember events differently. So I just changed his name.

Fast forward five years later. The last few weeks, I've been working on cover art and photos for my memoir, LOVE, DADDY (Random House). I combed through hundreds of photos and negatives and lo and behold, ladies and gentlemen, I give you NICK QUIVERS EXACTLY* HOW I DESCRIBED HIM!

*Well, the black box wasn't over his eyes. Gotta protect his image, ya know. Pfft. And the tank is more of a blue than turquoise, but still. Twenty years had passed since that date and I remembered it as vividly as my breakfast this morning. Also, it is easy to see why Dad stepped in so urgently to warn me of the dangers of teen pregnancy. Nick was a tall drink of dirty water.

I "Like" This.

2011-04-09T12:19:00.002-04:00

Oh, yeah, I like it very much! http://www.randomhouse.com/book/33484/love-daddy-by-kambri-crews

Can't wait to see cover art and galley prints and, omigosh, I'm so excited!

Deaf Dog Adopted by Deaf Kids...

2011-03-06T10:22:00.002-05:00

Inmates in a Missouri prison taught a deaf dog sign language then asked the deaf school to take in the homeless pooch. Brilliant! Considering Dad can't get his teeth fixed, I doubt the Texas Dept of Criminal Justice would spend money on a program like that but it's worth asking. Imagine if Dad and other deaf inmates did the teaching. Now THAT would be synergetic.

Read the article: http://mnn.com/node/87811

Our dog Paquita isn't deaf, but she knows 15 different signs. The irony is that she's getting cataracts. Luckily she knows the signs as voice commands, too, and her hearing is still excellent.

Oh Greatness, The Rising Boulder House

2011-01-31T10:17:00.001-05:00

This New Year is off to a great start. My husband Christian and I returned from a lovely trip to Peru and promptly bought our first home together: a little one bedroom cottage in Sullivan County, NY. Perched upon two giant rocks on a nearly four acre wooded lot, it is the perfect retreat for us to escape the city. (View photo set on Flickr.)

I also got a letter from Dad, dated January 20, 2011 replying to one I wrote him telling of our cabin. I included lots of pictures and lamented that there were projects that I know he could help us with if only he weren't in jail. Of the cabin he wrote:

"Oh Greatness I call it Rising Boulder House." That cracked me up because he sounded like an old Indian Chief. I pictured him with a giant feathered headdress and peace pipe cleansing the house with a smudge.

My father also wrote that he and the other inmates are watching Christian's sitcom "Are We There Yet?" on TBS because "other channels having nothing good on Wednesday nights." Wow, what an endorsement! But we'll take the extra viewers and be thankful that the NFL is dark those nights. Dad had some support and advice for my husband, too: "Try to get a nice trophy. Christian, keep out of the troubles with the drinks and dopes...Or I will whip your a$$ 100K times." We believe him.

Incidentally, I posted Dad's quote about our cabin on Twitter, saying: Dad loves our new cabin which sits on two giant rocks. "Oh Greatness, I call it Rising Boulder House." I didn't know he was Native American.

Much to my delight, the We Sing Your Tweets music duo turned that Tweet into a song! I just wish Dad could enjoy it. :o/ Check it out:

Smile Though Your Teeth Are Aching

2011-01-30T11:32:00.001-05:00

Dad says his teeth make him look like he belongs on Hee Haw. He's wrong. The hillbillies on Hee Haw have better teeth than him. See, in his prison, problem teeth are pulled rather than repaired. For Dad, this means many of his back teeth have been yanked and his remaining front teeth are grinding down at a rapid rate since they're being used for chewing instead of their intended purpose of biting. They've ground down to yellow nubs, exposing the nerves. He's in tremendous pain but there's nothing to be done.

Actually, there is one way he can get dentures: starve. The barometer to gauge whether he is eligible for dentures is to get his BMI measured. If he's starving to death, then he can get a set.

My dentist's office is state-of-the-art and located in the Helmsley Building, a midtown NYC landmark distinctive because it straddles Park Avenue routing traffic crosses "through" the building. Other clients include people like David Letterman and Howard Stern. I get my teeth cleaned three times a year instead of the usual recommended two. The contrast between the care I receive and what Dad gets is sharp and makes me feel guilty.

But then I think: if you want your teeth taken care of properly, don't try to kill your girlfriend.

I, like many people, assumed that prisoners got treated better than a lot of hard working folks in the Free World. I've heard the complaint that it's like inmates are being pampered at a hotel instead of being punished. Well, let this reassure you they are not. They don't play basketball all day, have their own private TVs and get top notch health care. Prison sucks, as it rightfully should.

It does beg the question: is prison about punishment or rehabilitation? Assuming he's never granted parole, Dad will be 75 years old when he gets out. And, really, who cares about an elderly ex-inmate? But let's pretend he were 45. He would be spit out into the public without any required counseling, missing teeth, and with a felony on his record. What do you think the chances are that he'll get a job and be a proper citizen? Pretty low, I think. The whole system creates destinies to fail.

If you were in charge, how would you deal with the care of offenders of all stripes? From the young to the old? From the minor offenders to the guys serving life without parole?

2010 Christmas Card

2010-12-30T20:14:00.008-05:00

Front, inside & back cover of this year's Christmas card drawn for me by my dad. After my last visit, Dad sent a letter saying he was contemplating getting a tattoo; a really stupid, confusing quote to accompany his Tasmanian devil tattoo about sex being the controlling force of the world.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about how during my last visit in July, Dad clarified to my husband Christian that the Taz's "I Love You" hands are purposefully positioned to closely resemble the ASL sign for "vagina." After checking to make sure I and the guards weren't looking, Dad began flicking his tongue and graphically acting out cunnilingus. Christian was both mortified and genuinely entertained. Now I totally get why the Taz is saying, "Kitty, kitty, kitty!" I was always perplexed by that. Not any more. Shudder.

In a follow up letter, I pleaded with Dad to forgo the new ink. I suggested that if he really insisted on getting another prison tattoo he should get one unique to him. As an example, I mentioned his made up sign for "Come here, asshole." I even tried a poor attempt at drawing the sign as a suggestion knowing that he could draw it better. And draw it better he did! In this year's Christmas card. Happy Christmas to everyone!

Deaf Texan Freed After Wrongful Imprisonment

2010-09-29T13:44:00.009-04:00

Why do these things always seem to happen in Texas? Sigh. A Deaf Texan man was exonerated after serving 10 years* for the rape of a five-year-old girl, a crime he did not commit.

Stephen Brodie was convicted even though the physical evidence didn't match him. And, a year later, the police had a suspect whose fingerprint DID match one found at the crime scene. A suspect who has a predilection for sexual assaults on young girls and women. And they didn't do anything to set Brodie free or the record straight. Oy.

Brodie was also interrogated without an interpreter for several hours. Huh? Turns out he initially declined the offer for one. Wha? Why would he decline an interpreter? My guess is when you're innocent, you don't think you need an attorney or translator. Perhaps you think, "Meh, I didn't do it. I'll be out of here in no time." Or, since the cops are obviously a bit shady here, it's even more likely that he was denied one or they kept interrogating while they "waited" for the interpreter to arrive. But I digress...

What's really infuriating is the asterisk (*) from above where I state that he served 10 years. He was actually sentenced to a mere five years. The additional time served was for failing to register as a sex offender. But, let me get this straight, the rape of a five-year-old child only gets a man five years in jail? So not only did they wrongly convict a dude, they gave him a slap on the wrist for a heinous crime.

Oh, yeah, and the guy who most likely committed the crime? He's out free and suspected in dozens of other sexual assaults. Way to go, Justice! You really are blind.

Life is Like a Box of Books

2010-09-26T19:45:00.000-04:00

Dad's prison unit has been under extreme scrutiny regarding security due to two egregious and dangerous violations.

First, there were cell phones found in the possession of inmates which proved to be an ongoing, statewide, big mother of a scandal. Second, there was a scary but impressively diabolical escape.

Since then, visitors are now searched more thoroughly (No more gum for you, Dad!) and there have been an abundance of cell searches and lock-downs. Dad has grown tired of lugging all his books in a recycled potato sacks to the gym, so he decided enough was enough. He packed up a box of books and cleaned out his inmate trust fund to cover the postage to mail the box to me to keep in my New York City apartment.

I was curious about Dad's reading selection. He often discusses history, expresses interest in writing poetry, likes architecture and sports. Would his books reflect such diversity? Umm...no. Instead I opened the box to find nothing but books about infamous murders and serial killers. There were two about the Black Dahlia and two about Aileen Wuornos.

At least he's remaining true to himself. And, to be honest, I was interested in reading every single one of them. (What is it about murder that fascinates us?) Still, perhaps I should send him a few self help books.

The Mysterious Stranger & His Pants

2010-08-09T17:11:00.005-04:00

It's been awhile since my husband visited my dad in prison; about three years, in fact. Long enough to forget just how strict the rules of prison visitor dress are. We threw on some clothes, hopped in the rental car and drove two and half hours to Huntsville.

At the gate, we were made to exit our car for the inspection. The guard pointed at Christian's shorts and said, "You ain't gonna be able to go inside wearing those."

Uh oh.

Shorts are strictly forbidden. Pardon the bluntness, but essentially they provide too easy access to private parts where contraband can be hidden. Before we even had a second to have the bad news sink in, that Christian's shorts would mean he couldn't see Dad, a man from the "Free World" approached us.

"Hey man," he said to Christian. "I've been in your position before so I know what you're going through. I've got an extra pair of work pants in my truck that you can use. You need 'em?"

Christian was stunned for a second at the lightning quick generosity of a stranger. "Uh, yeah, that would be great. Man, wow, thank you!"

In a flash, the man produced a pair of blue work pants for Chrsitian to wear. "How can I get them back to you after the visit?" He asked the stranger.

"Oh, no, you can keep them. I have hundreds of them. They're just work pants."

A bunch of gushing, relieved thank yous and a few pleadings of "Please, can we at least pay you for them?" later, we were back in the car on our way to see Dad. The kindness of a stranger never meant more to me.

Christian changed into his "new" used work pants that fit him PERFECTLY. Check them out as he models them in this video. Unfortunately, you can't get these pants just anywhere. They are a unique pair of navy cotton pants with dabs of paint splatter designed by a Mysterious Stranger.

Birthday Letter from Dad

2010-06-22T12:49:00.001-04:00

062210 Bday Letter,
originally uploaded by kambricrews.

"I am fine and doing same old shit long times in Birdcage." --Dad

Sigh.

2010-02-24T18:15:00.006-05:00

My friends at Comix may get care packages from their parents filled with food and personal hygiene products, but do they get handmade cards from jail? I think not!

Check out this Valentine's Day from Dad. Looks like he's studying caligraphy as our addresses on the envelope were also written in this font.