Inside the Grafton County Jail

Spider webs can be hard to see, but they illustrate intricate relationships...

"Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around--nobody big, I mean--except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff--I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy" (J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye from Chapter 22).

                During the summer, in addition to lots of spiders, snakes and other assorted wildlife at Miles Pond, I get the opportunity to hang out with some really cool people.  One such group of people is my chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR).  The DAR, no stranger to justice issues, embraces its mission in today’s world by being “dedicated to promoting patriotism, preserving American history, and securing America's future through better education for children.”  It sounds almost cliché, but it is not as I have seen this mission brought to life by the members of The St. John de Crevecoeur Chapter.   One such inspirational illustration is our Vice Regent, Linda Clark.  Linda volunteers her time at the Grafton County Jail to assist residents in getting their GED (General Education Development) Diplomas by preparing for and taking a series of tests.  Linda became involved in the program through her church, but was able to able to arrange for our DAR Chapter to take a tour of the new Grafton County Jail in North Haverhill, New Hampshire on July 17th.  In hindsight, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but what I learned, and more importantly felt will stay with me forever. 

                On the morning of the jail tour, I greeted the pond during my morning walk.  I found a spider web outside of our cabin, and it captivated me.  I was mesmerized when I saw how the web showed the myriad of relationships among many different segments.   I saw one spider racing across the surface while other critters were stuck, unable to recover from that one, false and damning step.  If the sun had not glistened against the threads just so, I too would have been captured in its silky, yet invisibly sticky lines.  This image stayed with me the entire day as I began the tour and listened to Lieutenant Kendall discuss not only how this new jail offered more modern facilities, but how the new jail complex represented the philosophical changes in criminal justice systems as well.  Lieutenant Kendall discussed programs, like Linda’s church ministry and GED programs, that are offered in order to rehabilitate prisoners so that they can serve their time and upon release, live productive lives.  Novels like Catcher in the Rye and Les Miserables were the first to pop into my head.  If only these prisoners in the Grafton County Jail could have been “caught” before they fell off that first cliff, spiraling into their behavior and crimes that led them here.  If only they all had saviors like Bishop Myriel was to Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.   Not only did the Bishop’s intervention offer Valjean redemption, but Valjean’s redemption in turn led to salvation for others…many others.  He, like Salinger’s protagonist Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye, caught them all, and I have a deep sense of gratitude, appreciation and profound respect in my heart for all of the employees and volunteers who serve these people each and every day, offering them an opportunity for redemption and salvation.   

                I could tell you that the world we live in can be a very dangerous place, but the news reminds us of this every day.  Sometimes it makes us feel like we might want to lock ourselves away in our own homes and never come out again.  After all, each one of us has been affected in one way or another by people who break the law, and perhaps we have even felt a self-righteous surge of pleasure when “justice” was served in one form or another.  I know that I have.  What I can’t illustrate in this blog is the heartbreaking feeling deep in my soul as I heard about prison programs for pregnant women or read their poems, saw their collages.  What I can’t explain is the scary feeling in my stomach when all of the DAR ladies crowded, and then were locked into, the transition chamber before entering the various blocks or pods of the prison.  Looking from the control room into their cells, into their eyes as we looked at them and they watched us haunts me still.  I wanted to reach out and save them all, but how do I help?  Having been a mom, teacher, boy scout volunteer, prayer warrior and youth group sponsor for the past 26 years, I do try to proactively support parents in helping students to become productive citizens who know (and do) right from wrong.  But now, with this new experience from touring the Grafton County Jail, I want to integrate and thread this knowledge into what I already do to save them all.  I have this heavy feeling that my salvation may depend on it…

                We are all intricately, even though sometimes invisibly, connected, so “that's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be."

Welcome to the Grafton County Jail!

Philosophical changes in criminal justice have changed the way jails look.

In the Parsonage... Randolph, Nebraska

(fi.edu)

Happy Birthday, Colin!

 =

Throwing caution to the wind?

Adult life is a wild ride, Colin... Pack up those power rangers and hold on tight!

Kindergarten Graduation

 

July 31, 2013

To Colin, on the occasion of your 21^st Birthday,

            On this auspicious day, I wish that I could write like a learned British scholar in order to convey my feelings in a way that would resonate with you for years to come.   Undoubtedly, I will lapse into tired old clichés, but I have to try.  When I heard your voice on the other end of the phone today, I thought that this bad-day experience was actually a perfect segue into adulthood for you.  You, of course, know that we believe you have been an adult since you turned 18-  legally, I guess everyone else thinks that it’s today.  Anyway, when I heard your frustrated voice and listened to your story, all I could think of was the Australian boomerang I gave to you in January.  Colin, adulthood, and life for that matter, is a lot like that boomerang,. 

            Here’s why adulthood and life are a lot like your boomerang.  I know these things because I consulted Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boomerang).  Did you know that a boomerang is a “thrown tool designed to circle back to its thrower”?  Colin, I firmly believe that whatever you throw out at the world, it circles back around and comes after ya.  (Okay, I could be quoting Uncle Ron here, but it is still true!)  Throw love, kindness and compassion whenever possible.  Capiche?  Historically, the boomerang is cut from a tree and so are you.  You have spent countless hours working on our family tree, Colin, so you know that you come from sturdy stock.  We love and support you always and want YOU to reap the fruits of love, Faith and joy.  Just as trees have imperfections, so do we…forgive unconditionally.  To catch a break in life or a propelling boomerang, you have to remain open but on the right path.  Be safe for crying out loud and be aware of your surroundings at all times.  

          According to Wikipedia.org, sometimes boomerangers tune for a flight which involves… 

“The boomerang is then thrown several times to check if it works. The extreme subtleties of the aerodynamic forces on the light wooden boomerang make it surprisingly difficult to predict how the finished boomerang will perform. Two apparently identical boomerangs may radically differ in their flight patterns. For example they may climb uncontrollably, they may fall repeatedly into the ground, they may exhibit long narrow pattern non-returning flight, or display other erratic behaviour. The only sure way to know is to flight test them.”

I know that you are doing this now.  You may have to do some sanding as you go.  Just keep tuning.  It’s all tuning really. Throwers HAVE to discern the “wind and launch direction” by facing INTO the wind.  This will make you stronger, Colin;  I suspect it already has.  It’s counterintuitive really, but the more volatile the wind, the softer the boomerang must be thrown.  I’m sorry if I haven’t demonstrated this principle at times;  I think I am just starting to understand this dynamic myself.                

            Well, that’s it, Colin.  That is how this adult/life business is a lot like throwing a boomerang.  (I’d like to tell you it’s really more like our screen door at camp.  You know the one that leads out onto the deck, but there would be a lot of holes in that analogy…)  Happy Birthday, Colin Thomas Fallon.  We love you and remember to go the distance you will have to make adjustments and minimize the DRAG.  No worries! 

Love,

Mom

It probably would have been better just to post this instead...More wisdom... Fewer words

On the Road- Gettysburg

Steve and Noreen Neitz

            I spend a lot of time on the road in the Silver Bullet;  our gray Dodge Caravan takes me a lot of places.  This summer I started thinking that, at 212,000 miles, maybe I should rename it the Silver Dove.  My mission of loving all and serving all brings me many places, but the image of the bullet often references a can of Coors Beer or a shotgun shell, neither representation seems to be exactly in sync with the purpose of my travels.   Images are important to me for they often serve as powerful symbols of things much greater than themselves.  So yesterday when my amazing husband took the first five hour driving shift after leaving the hotel outside of Cleveland, Ohio, I picked up my Salvation Army Store (http://www.salvationarmy.org/) find, The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd (http://www.suemonkkidd.com/MermaidChair/) and found a quote attributed to Thomas Merton (http://merton.org/), which will remain with me in this way forever. ..”My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.  I do not see the road ahead of me.  I cannot know for certain where it will end.  Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.”  In reflecting on this quote, I am drawn to think of my friend Noreen (http://nneitz.wordpress.com/2011/02/14/what-would-you-say/).

            Throughout this summer, the fourth anniversary of my own Dad’s death, I lost other giants from my childhood, but nothing could have prepared me for the loss of Noreen.  Twelve years ago when our “road” took us to live in Gettysburg, I remember spending a lot of nights over those four years sitting on our neighbors, Steve and Noreen’s back porch.  In hindsight, I think that the Neitz Family sort of adopted us… maybe that was part of their family mission… to live “the Jesuit charisms of ‘finding God in all things’, ‘seeking to help souls’, ‘to do everything for the greater glory of God’… (and) going forth for the sake of ‘the service of faith and the promotion of justice’ in the world” (http://jroselle.blogspot.com).   That was Noreen.  And as I sat nestled in at my beloved and packed St. Francis Xavier Church in Gettysburg, PA (http://www.stfxcc.org/) at her funeral Mass, I heard such loving testimony to all of these precepts in her life.  Steve, surrounded by their inspirational children and extended family, read excerpts from Noreen’s blog throughout the eulogy, and her voice was there with us all through her writing.  I think daughter Sarah said it best when she wrote and Noreen later quoted in her blog (http://nneitz.wordpress.com/2011/02/12/becoming-a-woman-for-octaves/), “I bring to my leadership an understanding of the difference between singing and silence. People need … leadership that supports a joyful and enriching life beyond mere existence. I know that a woman for others must also be a woman for octaves; true leadership gives others a life of song.”  That was Noreen… a woman for octaves.     

            And so it was on July 30^th as they were planting a tree in Gettysburg to honor my dear friend Noreen, I was driving down a highway in Iowa, missing my dear friend Noreen and praying to be fruitfully busy about living while trying to do God’s will in perfect pitch.

At the Phantom Tollbooth... Concord, New Hampshire

Random Acts of Kindness

                It’s kind of humorous when I think about it now, but at the time, I felt defeated.  As I left the nursing home after visiting my father-in-law, I got in the Silver Bullet and headed back to the cabin.  The tears were coursing down my face as the sky opened up and unleashed a terrible storm.  The torrential downpour outside of the car equaled the emotional upheaval inside of me as I headed up the highway.  I talked, prayed, okay… ranted, as I begged my father in heaven to give me the sight to see the road clearly and the insight as to which way to go.  I felt overwhelmed by all that I had to do, and I felt like a failure with what I had tried to accomplish.  I think that my grandmother used to refer to this dynamic as a good ol’-fashioned “pity party.”  So there I was partying my way up 93 North when I saw the signs alerting me to the fact that there was a tollbooth ahead.  I frantically searched my armrest for the coins I would need to pass through this obstruction in my path.  I found pennies.  I found nickels.  I found Australian coins, but no quarters… nothing that would get me through.  Slowing as I approached the barrier, I reached behind the seat blindly searching for my pocketbook.  As I deciphered its presence and swung it onto my lap, I halted the van at the stall.  I rolled down my window, held up my index finger and asked for her indulgence as I began to scan the deep recesses of the purse for my payment.  Its upright and unbending handles poked into my eyeball, and I was once again blinded by the impalement as well as my own stupefying stupidity.  As this absurd scene continued to unfold and the cars began to impatiently line up behind me, I glanced up sheepishly to see the attendant beaming at me from behind a veil of fog, water and pain. 

                “You may pass on through, Ma’am.  The gentleman in front of you paid your way.  Have a great night.”  My mind was a swirling mass of confusion. 

                “Who?”  I queried while she pointed to the anonymous car speeding away ahead of me.  “…but I don’t know him…”  I floundered futilely for the words to express this misunderstanding.

                “Have a wonderful night!” she cheered.  “Congratulations and thank you.” 

                “Thank YOU,” I bawled as I lowered the purse back to the floor of the car, squinting at the metallic dot on the waning horizon and crying even harder now. 

                …And so it was that when I was feeling the most helpless and lost, a selfless, and presumably random, act of kindness came from out of the clouds to give me courage and help me find my way home. 

 

 

 

Plymouth State University

 

Life’s Little Survival Kit

                I have this group of friends, unofficially dubbed the RaRas, who gather at the pond each year.  Some members of the group protest this name for various reasons,  but I’m not sure what else to call them.  Basically, we address all of life’s big questions over the course of a weekend, reminisce about our life as friends-  family really, and then… rah, rah, I am ready to be propelled back into my life in Nebraska.  To think of it in St. Johnsbury terms, the founding home of the Fairbank’s scale, my life is in balance.  On one side of this scale are my mom and our families, our godchildren, and friends and on the other is our mission:  our vocations in Nebraska with our St. John’s family, school, Spokes, Scouts and Speech. 

                Anyway this summer was a momentous one.  One of our kids will be attending Plymouth State University, our alma mater, in the Fall.  Plymouth was the thread that brought and ties all the RaRas together in one way or another and now the next generation (a.k.a Lindsey) would be using it as her metaphorical dock- jumping off into the big wide lake-world as well.  To signify and celebrate this, the RaRas pulled together a Plymouth State survival kit, but it was more challenging than we originally anticipated to take all of the lessons we learned over our four years at Plymouth and boil them down to tangible objects to symbolize the intangible lessons we learned.  Eventually the survival kit emerged:  a lock, a fire extinguisher, silly putty with sound effects, a paint marker for writing in the snow, a winter tuque and a Vermont tee shirt.  The moral to the these objects-  have fun, be safe and never forget where you come from…

                Our prayer, the real survival kit for you, Lindsey, as you journey off to Plymouth is that you not only have the time of your life as you prepare for YOUR  life’s mission, but that 25 and even 50 years later, you will be surrounded by a group of friends (or dragonflies ;) as the case may be) and their families who continue to inspire you to be the best person you can be and who nourish, support and inspire you along the way.  We love you- RaRa, Lindsey!   xoxo

 

Miles Pond Vermont... We are Sacred Temples…

On my morning walk around the pond, my new friend was communicating his frustration that I was in his habitat.

We are Sacred Temples…

                Many times throughout the school year when I review the upcoming deadlines for English assignments,  a student, having already packed up her handy dandy planner, will begin writing on her palm or wrist or arm or big toe… any available skin.  Inevitably, my hypervigilant eye will spy this blasphemy, and I have been known to screech, “Your body is the temple of the Lord.  Don’t deface YOUR temple.”  This morning in my daily readings, I read again this passage from Corinthians 3:9-11, 16-17, and it made me reflect.

                Spending my summer in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont reminds me of this scripture.  As I work on the cabin to refresh the wear and tear that it has endured over the past year of my absence, there is a sacredness about our ritual.  As I drive down our lane and the pond comes into view, I greet the mountains and wait for the welcoming call of the loons.  I thank God for my safe passage cross country and begin to set the deck furniture in place after I have opened all of the windows, letting a cleansing, cool breeze replace the stale air with the fresh.  I dust off all of the framed and fading pictures that grace the window sills.  A fresh coat of paint does a body good too.  This feels holy to me.  Furthermore, throughout the summer, we travel away from the Pond to other hallowed locales:  cemeteries where the bones of our ancestors are interred;  houses we haunted as children;  libraries and museums, chapels (http://www.chapeloftheholyfamily.com/) and churches as we attend Bible studies, Masses, weddings or funerals.  As I take these pilgrimages in my temple-body, I am often struck by the passage of time and the realization that like the cabin, I must embrace customs that nourish my wellness so that I can radiate Christ’s Light and Love to the world while fulfilling my mission of loving and serving all.

                This spring as the speech season was winding down, I decided to take my sister-in-law Wendy’s “Nourish to Flourish” online nutrition class (http://www.renewwellness.net/).  Inspired by my cousin Asa’s recovery from a severe stroke, I wanted to indeed nourish my body, this vessel given to me by God to do His work in the world.  If in fact, “the Spirit of God dwells in…” me, as I pray each day it does, I want to live long and prosper.  This class opened my eyes as to how the elements that I invite into my body impact my health physically, emotionally, spiritually, and even cognitively.   If the first week of the course felt like my body was immersed in a monsoon as it was striving to strike a balance and repudiate the nutritional sins from my past, the second week brought sunny skies with clear thinking, boundless energy and refreshing renewal.   By the end of the fourth week, I had forged a new foundation for a legacy of healthy living. 

                I do not have a solution to prevent students from writing on themselves, but I do know what I want my body, in communion with this life, to communicate- respect, joy and Love.

               

 

 

Randolph, Nebraska... Happy Anniversary, Babe!

 25 Years and Holding On...

     Okay, so our Anniversary is still about a month away, but my time in Church always inspires me to examine the deeper symbolism in the everyday occurrences in my life.  Today was Palm Sunday, and I thought a lot about Jesus' triumphant arrival into Jerusalem, which inevitably led to his death on the cross, but also to Easter morning.  As Derrick and I approach our 25th wedding anniversary, I thought about how triumphantly we stood before the altar that April day in 1988 in the midst of an ol' fashioned Vermont snowstorm.  By God's Grace, we made it through that storm, and all of the ones that have followed, more humble, grateful and a little bit wiser.   (Our exteriors may be a little more weathered, worn and warped like our dock too...)  I wish I could compose music to express the love and gratitude I feel for our lives together because my husband eats, breathes and thinks in melodies. Me?  I can't carry a tune or ever get the words right. And for a man who takes his music, and his calling, so seriously to be able to accept and appreciate all of my faults and foibles, intentional and unintentional, I feel so blessed.

     My friend, Erin Swenson-Reinhold said it best in her blog about the "Joys of Marriage" as she reflects on a similar dynamic in her own marriage when two different people merge into one life and relationship.  This can be "...quite a challenge...  Merging these two paradigms (Internal Processor- Derrick, the introvert and External Process-Moi, the extrovert) has been a growth process for both of us through the years.  There are times when we do better at listening to and hearing each other...there are times that we fail miserably.  Fortunately, the grace lies in the fact that (we) have chosen to love each other in spite of our differences.  We have chosen to push ourselves out of our natural comfort zone to try and understand the other...particularly during difficult times of life" (http://dinnerinflorida.blogspot.com).   To put it another way, I feel like our marriage and our resulting family are kind of like skipping rocks.  We are all so different that the force of our interactions creates momentum.  That spinning effect we have on each other actually stabilizes us and keeps us afloat, so we don't sink beneath the waves on a daily basis.  Through the love, grace and forgiveness my husband, and now our sons, extend to me each day (along with some healthy doses of laughter), I truly believe that we are helping each other reach Heaven and achieve Salvation along the way.

(Holly Hobby Photography)