I’m Don, and I’ve been inside since 1984. At barely 21, I murdered my stepfather, wrongly believing it to be justifiable, and that my mother desperately needed a hero. I wish I’d have just helped her retain a good divorce attorney. California’s shifting from punishment to rehabilitation, so I may just be granted the opportunity to rejoin society.
I’ve spent years in lots of programs and rehabilitative groups earning tons of certificates and achievement awards. I’ve grown immensely and am very proud of the man I’ve become, though sometimes it feels like I’m only running victory laps around Loserville. 36 years. I’ve never used cellphones; I don’t know Facebook from twitter. My nieces try explaining, I smile and nod, but I’m totally lost. The last new technology I remember is microwave ovens. “Check it out dad! It cooks your food in two minutes!”
I need friends to prepare for the toughest aspect of my sentence, starting over. Imagine The Flintstones thrown into The Jetsons. I’m 57, healthy and fit, I love family, nature, animals, cooking, and painting landscapes. I’m Cherokee and make traditional jewelry, bags, and shields. I’ve made my own flute, rattle, and drum for making beautiful music. I’m a huge believer in community building, with a special love for fellow vets. I don’t use drugs, alcohol, or people. Like Springsteen’s song says: “I’m just looking for a little of that ‘Human Touch’.”
Thanks for reading. I hope you’ll write. If so, please include your address so I can write you back using regular mail.