Anne Frank Center USA/PEN American Center
               Prison Diary Excerpts

Willian McIntosh
Roberts Unit
Abilene, Texas

May 23, 2008
I’ve been rather forgetful of late. I’m still trying to get into the habit of writing.  To start off, I failed to mention in my last entry that I finished A.F.’s diary.  I liked it.  It gave a lot of insight into the mind of a teenage girl of 60 years ago.  I don’t believe girls have changed too terribly much.  Of course, knowing that she died in one of the camps days before being liberated…Why anyone would hate another person so much that they could condemn a person to sure death?  Whoever turned them in should’ve minded their own business.

It has gotten too hot! Almost unbearably so.  All you can do is lie under a fan to cool off and take a shower to wash some of the sweat off.  But I must endure for I will survive this sentence.  Not only because I didn’t commit the dreadful crime, but because I have family out there that wants me to be free.  Plus I want to be free.

* * *

Rik Bogen
E.O.C.E
Pendleton, Oregon

 
August, 2008
Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution:
In this observer’s eyes the old state hospital building (1910) looks much the same on the outside.  Four stories, stucco; with ornamental iron barred windows.  Four buildings with a central fifth administration (building).

In a reformist mood, the inmates were expelled toward community care. Unfortunately, the funding was insufficient to be successful. A double wire fence, with razor wire ribbons and bows was used to encompass the site, thus creating a medium security prison.

Inside the two units, two 4-man cells, (and) the other two dormitory style completed the quickie new facility.  An honors unit and a segregation unit were remodeled from nurses’ housing.  It’s not a warehouse concrete-box-style structure which is appreciated by some.  However, it is a warehouse!

Of the 1,600 prisoners, approximately 300 have jobs performing the chores of group living.  One hundred work in the clothing manufacturing department earning $100 to $150 a month, minus room and board! Two hundred or so attend school part-time, progressing albeit slowly, to obtain a G.E.D.  All of this is very part-time. The rest: TV is an opiate of the masses, while church services offer an illusionary escape.  Yard time once a day, rain or shine is a high point of the day. A person must be motivated to create an improvement plan and then actualize growth on their own.  This can be difficult in this environment, but not impossible!

From the Oregon Department of corrections, January 2008:
Cost per inmate per day: $78.00
Prison population: 13,752
Median age: (5,552) 31 – 45
No high school: 44%
Illiterate: 20%
No legitimate job: 53%
Substance abuse: 67%
Mentally ill (serious): 20%
Some degree of mental health needs: 50%
Recidivism Rate: 31.3%

* * *

MaNeysa Erby
Lee Arrendale State Prison
Alto, Georgia


May 23, 2008
It makes me so sad to know (my husband) couldn’t make it on his own and that he was dependant on me as I depended on him…How could he forget walking on the sands of the Bahamas, the museums in North Carolina, traveling through the tunnels in Virginia, up Ruby mountain where I was so scared cause we drove along the edge.  What about New Orleans? When we sold all our beauty salon stuff on Saturday and Sunday we got out of there in time before Katrina hit.

July 2, 2008
How many lies have you told?  Boy, I told so many.  I think I believed some myself.

Falsehood, untruth, fiction, inaccuracy, misstatement, myth, fable, deceptiveness, misrepresentation, lying, prevarication, falsification, falseness, defamation, fabrication, deception, slander, aspersion, tale, perjury. Libel, fib, white lie, or even a fish story.
No matter how many ways you sugar coat it.  A lie is a lie.  That’s what made me a good author. Putting lies on paper.

July 13, 2008
I’m being moved today. Why? I don’t know. They tell me I’m moving to a Faith and Character dorm.  I hate change. I hate moving. I know a few people over there so it won’t be a problem. This program looks good by the parole board so moving to Faith and Character here I come.  I got to go.  They are here to pack me up.

* * *

Arthur Longsworth
MCC/WSRU
Monroe Washington

Wednesday, July 30^th, 2008
We were allowed out to the big yard this morning, and I went with the hope of catching sight of the young osprey that has been hanging around the prison recently.  Last week he landed on one of the lights above the wall and I was able to get a good look at him. He looked at me, as well.

No sight of the osprey today, though.  It was warm early and the only birds to see were starlings, a small group in the grass on the far side of the yard. They are always here because they don’t migrate; the prison is their home. I have
watched enough generations of them live out their lives here, go from chicks to death, to be able to tell you with certainty that they don’t go anywhere.
I like to watch birds—which is strange when you consider that I have spent many years of my life in IMU (maximum-security) where I was unable to see them.  There you are confined only to a small cell, so you don’t get to see
outside.  Then again, maybe it is because of that experience that I have gained this appreciation for them.  I don’t think I had it before they put me in that place.

The starlings in the yard this morning were parents with their offspring. Although the young ones were no smaller than the adults, they were easy to pick out because of their coloring and the way they behaved.  While the adults searched the grass for food—thrusting their heads down into it and looking around, then taking a few steps and repeating the process—their fledglings followed raising a ruckus, squawking and shaking their wings.

The only time the youngsters were quiet was when one of their patents stuffed a bug into their throat.  As soon as they got it down they would begin squawking again.

Sometimes while I am watching birds, thoughts come to me—like the one I had this morning.  As I watched the starlings, I couldn’t help but recognize a correlation between them and a specific group of prisoners—those who were raised by the state in its institutions.  They, too, were brought up to be where they are.  Free people, I suspect, would think that is ridiculous to say that, but that is only because they don’t know what it is like—what growing up in those places teaches you, and what it doesn’t.  It doesn’t prepare you for life in civilized society. The only thing a young person raised by the state is fit for is this right here. I’ve been in long enough to see that cycle play itself out too, generation after generation—I’m thinking of Bucky (my cellmate) now, one of the most recent generation.

Is it fair to write this?  To believe it?  My own generation comes to mind now, those who grew up with me in those places. Yes, I think it is fair…because I can’t think of a single instance where it wasn’t true.

         * * *

Eugene A. Dey
CCC-3
Ione, California

June 29, 2008
Four walls, a floor and a ceiling—all concrete.  Two bunk beds facing two lockers, all metal, welded to plates, embedded into the concrete.  A desk-seat combo on the back wall, and a toilet-sink combo by the cell door complete the general theme of some metal objects decorating the cell.  All of which is kept secure by a solid metal door operated electronically.  The door contains a long narrow window, allowing me to look into the dayroom, or a guard to keep an eye on me.  The back wall containing a similar sized window, allows me to look at the razor-wire topped double-fence, with an electronic fence in between.  Beyond that outer realm of the edge of my world, are a field and some hills in this god-forsaken country deep in the mountains of northern California.

June 30, 2008
Good news is not in abundance and hard times are the norm.  Yet, no matter, in the last two weeks, everything has been relatively calm. No violence. No tension. No lockdowns. Everything is normal from a correctional quagmire perspective.

My PEN 2008 piece, “Frontline Reflections,” is being edited by my PEN mentor, as is my PEN 2007 honorable mention.  I’m particularly pleased in that these pieces are very important in my personal growth, and hold tremendous potential. This year the PEN award gave me ample opportunities—including this journal project. I am privileged to be offered a chance to talk to those who hold Anne Frank dear to their hearts.  A journal by an oppressed person comes about through great sacrifice—calmness in times of turmoil.

* * *

Keith Sanders
Ramsey Unit
Rosharon, Texas

June 26, 2008
Today is the last day of a unit-wide lock down/shakedown.  It began Monday. They do it twice a year and generally do in April/May, when it is cooler and around October.  There was some major inspection a couple months back so I guess it got put off until now.  Shower Wednesday and Friday. No hot meals—brown sack meals three times a day. 24 hour confinement to cell or living quarters, only coming out for shower and shakedown—we carry all of our property to the old chow hall where we get stripped and then guards go through every item of our property, confiscating altered or illegitimate items, throwing away excess items, etc.,  what they call nuisance contraband.  I’ve been through perhaps 45 shakedowns in 20 years I’ve been here. I never have anything major they can take—all my property is always legit, yet I always get apprehensive and anxious.  Even after all these years. It’s a pain in the neck, but that’s not why. I’ve never been able to figure it out, why I get so nervous every time. All that stress can’t be good for me.

* * *

John Yarbrough
Ramsey I Unit
Rosharon, Texas

June 29, 2008           My Cell, 5PM             “REC”
We got to go outside today. It was hot but it was great to get some fresh air, to smell the grass and bees, see the birds, the white clouds, move about freely for a couple of hours. On Monday things will return to normal – everyone working, regular duties and hours. A person really feels better from doing nothing more than going out for a walk. Feels everything in your body working, moving, remembering it’s alive. I think a person can easily waste away if they lose desire, hope, and give up. I don’t plan on giving up. Maybe I’ll survive this hell one way or another. Meantime, I’ll walk, I’ll keep my head clean and breathe some fresh air. Need to write some letters now – that’s it for today.

July 2, 2008   4PM, My Cell             “Plastic Spoon”
Today I ate BBQ chicken with a plastic spoon. Sound impossible? Well, 1800 inmates did it.
Usually we eat with a spork.
But today they had only tiny white plastic picnic spoons.
It’s hard to eat chicken thighs with a spoon. Quote me on that. So – you ask, why didn’t I pick up the bird? Too hot. The chicken was just out of the oven. And we only have 15 minutes to eat, so I used a spoon.
The little spoon made the chicken look huge. Maybe a new diet idea for the masses: Tiny eating implements, plates, glasses. Hmm. Worth a try. All these diet ideas have been tried.

* * *

Bill Williams
CMC-E
SLO, California

Happy 4th of July       7/4/08
I’m more than halfway through Anne Frank, past the family & friend photos which put faces into the diary and it’s distressing. I find myself wanting to pray for them even though I know who lives and who dies, as if by praying I can reach the dead.  Her life, cut so short, has value and impact-- her wit, intelligence, and teenage angst survive. And in this moment, I find myself taking deep, slow breaths so that I can mentally process my emotions over her fate.

The Frank family studied Latin and French in hiding, putting their minds to good use.  I will do my best to follow their example and to keep learning and studying. At the moment I’m reading “The Way of the Wizard” by Deepak Chopra and “The Jewish Tradition,” not to mention my weekly Torah portion, and daily prayer and “Complete Yoga.” This week I re-learned from long ago the sun salutations. I did 12 rounds, then performed a short, silent prayer thanking god for life and Yoga. Ha!

* * *

Scott S.
Toledo Correctional Institution
Toledo, Ohio

Thursday, May 8, 2008, 12:57 a.m.
I started reading Anne Frank, and I’m loving it. In fact, I’m already on page 70-something. I’m totally engrossed.

Thursday, May 8, 2008, 10:11 p.m.
I’m still captivated by Anne Frank. I’m already on page 170-something, and I feel as though I’ve been transported back to World War II. It’s amazing that someone so young could be so expressive, articulate, and thoughtful.

Friday, May 9, 2008, 10:15 p.m.
I’m now on page 234 of Anne Frank. I’m absolutely engrossed by the friendship and romance developing between Anne and Peter.

Sunday, May 11, 2008, 12:46 a.m.
I’ve already finished Anne Frank because I couldn’t put it down. I was deeply touched, but it was so sad that such a senseless atrocity could be inflicted on somebody so insightful, thoughtful, sensitive, and talented. Her self-awareness is truly amazing, especially for someone her age. It’s hard to be so brutally honest about one’s self. Her diary has inspired me, and I hope to educate the world about the plight of the prisoner in the same way she opened up people’s eyes through her diary.

Monday, May 19, 2008, 3:33 p.m.
I have a couple of long-term goals. First, I’d like to get my book published. Second, I would eventually like to get my bachelor’s degree (I’m halfway there). And, finally, I would like to become proficient in law. If I ever do get out, I could become a paralegal or maybe even a lawyer. Whatever specifically happens, all I know for sure is that I want to make a difference. I want to do something big to help my fellow inmates, to educate the public, to change peoples’ attitudes about prisoners. I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I am certainly going to try. Sometimes I second-guess my calling, helping inmates. Sometimes I wonder if I’m wasting my time helping people who don’t deserve it and who don’t appreciate it. But I must not fall into the trap of impugning an entire group based on a few bad individuals—that’s what society does to inmates.

* * *

Richard Parker
Ramsey Prison Unit
Rosharon, Texas

Monday, May 26, 2008, 5:26 p.m.
Hello World:
I decided I am going to put this booklet in the mail tonight. Since it’s a holiday weekend (Memorial Day), the mailboxes are going to be filled to capacity. By mailing this tonight I have much less chance of any officials here reading it. They’ll be too busy to be reading much, especially this wordy diary. It is funny that I do not mind the world reading my most personal admissions, but I am worried about petty officials here reading it. It was nice that you were able to spend a few days with me, world. It is sad for me that it is time for you to leave. I wish I could keep a copy of these words to possibly enlighten certain members of my family or good friends I meet in the future, but I do have a copy in my memory, and I made a list of the things I talked about, by page number, on a separate piece of paper . . . I should be getting my answer from the Angleton Parole Panel any day now. I have been in prison so long that I cannot imagine what it will be like when I get out. I will have to start again completely poor, without a job, and no place to store my artwork and supplies. To tell you the truth, world, I’m scared. I’m scared if I make it and scared that I won’t. Pray for me.

* * *

Malachi Ephraim
AMU-II Correctional Facility
Florence, Arizona

June 1, 2008
I awakened today around 5 a.m., in a better mood than usual.  Lying on my left side, facing the cell door, I gazed at the prison gray walls and enjoyed the early morning light illuminating the cell block interior.  Sometimes I just stare at the interiors of my prison cell and just “trip” on the reality of it all: the prison bunk, the small stool and table next to the wall, the combination sink/toilet, and the cell front, which is a steel-mesh like configuration that has hundreds of dime-size holes in order to see in and out; against this is “plexi-glass” covering every square inch.

June 15, 2008
When I realized that today is Father’s Day, I then thought of my dad who died of lung cancer in 2005.  When I was told of my father’s passing from my mother, it unnerved me because I had just had a vivid dream about him dancing.  In the dream he was healthy and strong.

Also, after my dad’s death I dreamed about him every single night.  But I didn’t cry.  I didn’t shed one tear, yet his passing was significant to me.  I was close to my father and we spent countless hours together doing father and son stuff: playing catch, roller skating, fishing, and listening to music.  My dad liked to sing and dance.  He played the guitar and was into everything from the blues to rap music.  He was also a cigar and cigarette smoker and a heavy drinker.  But as a father, he was really fantastic …

In real life, contrary to his conduct in my dreams, my father was cool until he started drinking, and he always drank too much.  When he wasn’t drunk my dad was great, but when drunk he transformed into a furious madman!  His negative attributes aside, my father was a good dad and a good man.  I miss him deeply.

* * *

Ernest Rich
Pamlico Correction Facility
Bayboro, North Carolina

May 15, 2008
They don’t feed (us) much here at Pamlico.  We seldom get meat at breakfast. They don’t always serve what is on menu.  Eggs and grits.  Eggs are not real.  Grits are bland.  Oatmeal don’t taste like oatmeal.  They boil it too long to destroy all the vitamins.

They ruin good food. Boil cabbage in water without meat.  Carrots are no good.  We haven’t had bananas in a long time.   We are not getting vitamins we need. Some men buy from canteen.  But I get no money from home.  I am 61 and can’t eat a lot of food they serve. Their beef or pork liver mess my stomach up.

I miss home fired potatoes, fried crisp in cast iron frying pan in lard.  I ate fried potatoes at breakfast before I came to prison with eggs and sausage.  Strawberry preserves.  Tomato soup at breakfast.  I’m looking forward to eating real food when I get out.  I love tomato juice, grape juice, butter milk.  We never get it in prison.  We only get watered down juice. Buttermilk is good for your stomach.  The kind of food they serve creates high cholesterol, stomach problems, then nurse give you expensive medicine that creates more medical problems.

May 24, 2008
From my window I can see highway, motor homes, motor boats, logging trucks, sometimes farmers are working in field on other side of highway.  It is important to me to be able to see the outside world.  I’ve been imprisoned for 22 years. I hope to get out some day.  I look forward to hiking in the woods.  I may walk on the Appalachian Trail.  I need to get away from it all, away from people so I can meditate.  Be alone with God.