I am so not maternal

The Little Kitty whose name has morphed into Taki is doing as well as can be expected. Her bodily functions seem to be working. I hate that during the day, her meals are constrained to my schedule, but in the evening, she snacks at will.

This morning, there was a large bowel movement in front of one of the bathroom doors: the evidence indicates it was from Taki.  She has really objected to my "helping" her recently, but she needed to do this. 

I am putting her in the litter pan when I think she might be ready to pee or poop, with moderate success.

Taki has taken to wandering through the house, trying to find me, when I am not in the computer room.  I will move her about, to decrease her stress, from time to time.  Other times, I keep her enclosed in the computer room.  

She has bonded to the towel that I use when I feed her: I am guessing the formula she spits out iand s drooling onto the towel is comforting to her.

Desert Snow

Writing about the desert brings to mind  a trip I made from Lubbock, TX to Phoenix, AZ in December 2004.  There was a slight winter storm, so snow covered the desert. 

I remember year after year of magical snows in New England: the snow, especially powdery snow, made the world look like a crystal kingdom.  It coated everything and sparkled in the sunlight. At night, in the moon light it still sparkled.

This trip into the desert was also magical. The snow was a fine accent on the geological and plant features along the way. It sparkled and highlighted the outlines with a sharp contrast to the features.  It was awesomely beautiful.

Years ago, when I still lived in New England, I read a story about a family who were spending Christmas in the desert. They missed the snow and cold, but found a tumbleweed tree, and decorated it, and shared their Christmas spirit with other folks in the campgrounds.  When I drove through this winter storm in the desert, it reminded me of that story and its message about relationships and human connections. It swelled my heart, and as I re-tell this tonight, it swells my heart again.

The desert is not devoid of life and human connection.  We just have to open our minds, our eyese and our hearts to know what is there.

Proud to be there

This past week was officer appreciation week.  The Montford prison does it up right:  they prepare a meal for the staff.  And there is a ceremony dedicated to the officers who lost their lives in the line of service for the past year.  There were none in Texas this year. That was good. The ceremony was, as always, impressive.  In addition to the riderless horse, a bagpiper and drummer played Amazing Grace.  A bagpipe always sends chills and brings tears.  The article gives a good, if incomplete, description of the ceremony and the symbols involved.  Everyone did a good job.  Honoring our staff gives me pause to think, and proud to be a part of this unit, even though I am not a correctional officer.

I included in the labels "celebration."  While this was a memorial and a ceremony, it was also a celebration of life and the good that correctional officers do.

http://lubbockonline.com/crime-and-courts/2011-05-06/officers-montford-prison-unit-honor-fallen-comrades-across-us

Deadly Medicine and Corollary Activity

The Texas Tech University Museum has a presentation on the medical procedures of the German Third Reich, aptly named   Deadly Medicine: Creating the Master Race, in the Diamond M Gallery  http://www.depts.ttu.edu/museumttu/exhsch11.html.  I have not seen the exhibit yet, but plan to do so, soon.

Tonight, some friends joined me at a panel presentation about the Holocaust: 

Panel Presentation by Speakers from the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, .



Marc Masurovsky - “Landscapes of Experience: The January 1945 Evacuations of the Auschwitz Camp Complex”


Martin Dean - “Spearate Jewish Residential Districts - Documenting the Universe of Nazi Ghettos”

Fabulous! Very interesting, and very sad, about the atrocities during World War II, and the perpetrators, survivors, victims, and witnesses.  Hmmm.

And, another learning piece from history, but have we learned?

One of the speakers talked about how the survivors said the slightest, smallest act of help provided hope. 

I see this sometimes at the prison.  Just paying attention to someone gives them hope.  Especially the patients with life sentences, or with no family contact.

Emily Dickinson said it so well:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Owning the future

I am a licensed bachelor social worker in the state of Texas and I work in a state run psychiatric prison... One of the hardest tasks I face is to give young patients (or old patients)  with long sentences a sense of future.

It is understandable that any prisoner, young or old, with a very long sentence stretching before him or her feels hopeless and helpless.   Sometimes we refer them to read Viktor Frankl's "Man Search for Meaning" (I give you the Wikipedia site, as there does not seem to be a definitive site) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Man's_Search_for_Meaning.  And, we look for other motivations.

Some inmates can be motivated to pursue some esoteric interests: reading, education, religion, helping others. Most find it difficult to think of doing anything other than "one day at a time." 

Some can be motivated to help even newer inmates to learn about doing prison time, and adjusting to the very different culture of prison...

Sometimes, I grasp at air straws while trying to help these patients find meaning for life:  a child who may want to know a parent in 20 years; a mother who never stops loving her child; another prisoner who needs help.  Most recently, a patient mentioned that the jury could have given him from 5 to 99 years, but gave him 25 years.  He hearkened to the comment that maybe the jury saw something in him that hoped that he would learn something new and better in 25 years.  A young man, he liked that idea...To implant it further, I told him he had an obligation to that jury to prove them right... He liked that idea, too.  Hope springs eternal..