A Little Background
I am supposed to be doing
"fieldwork" this quarter, which consists of orientation, observation and shadowing at my practicum site. In
other words training, not actually doing. I'm required to complete 30 hours of
said training in preparation for actual doing during my practicum over the next two quarters. Practicum consists of 200 hours (10 hours per week) of
supervised counseling and related activities.
However, the jail is a busy place and there is lots to be done,
so my supervisor has assigned me three clients in addition to conducting
evaluations for Community Corrections (a program that aims to get
people working in the community instead of being incarcerated),
attending group therapy sessions, and meeting for group and individual
supervision.
I have seen my first client and conducted my first CommCorr eval
(see, you're picking up the lingo already!). Wow. I feel ill equipped to
be jumping in so fast, but more problematic is that I have already
worked 29 of my 30 fieldwork hours and we still have a month to go.
Hmmmm.
Inmates
I have learned more in the few hours that I have spent with inmates than I learned in all my classroom hours put together. It is eye-opening to experience a part of our society from which most of us are completely segregated.
I've been sitting in on a CommCorr group that my supervisor runs. These
women have traded a relatively short prison sentence for a much longer
community sentence that involves being under the thumb and strict rules of the system with the threat of prison for any infraction. Many are trying to do this for the second or third time, having been sent back from the halfway house to jail for not following the rules.They are a tough, sullen bunch who warm up only slightly in the course of our session. The purpose of the group is to teach them coping skills, but I'm not sure the presentation - including pages of dense text - is tailored to their interest or abilities.
Sometimes it is very bizarre to transition from my fancy school and house and life into this other world, where it's not the difference in trappings that is so stark, but the difference in opportunity. I wake up and go to sleep grateful every day; it is only through luck and grace that I am not on the other side of the bars.
By the way, if you're curious about what life in jail//prison is like, National Geographic has an excellent series entitled, Lockdown, that profiles many different aspects of living behind bars.
Next: Meet my colleagues!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Late and exhausted, but still going!
Dear Friends,
I miss you more than ever, having not posted last weekend. I had promised my sister that I would go with her and her friend Marjie to the mountain house on Saturday. But I had a 20-page paper due on Monday that I hadn't started as of Saturday morning, so I was torn between going and staying home to work.
Mulling it over, I realized that Fer and I were much more connected before I left NH - we used to talk every day for at least a few minutes. Since I've been in CO, we've both been over-the-top busy, rarely home at the same time, and typically working when we are. If we do finally get a minute to catch up in the kitchen, say, we're usually interrupted within a few seconds by a child or a husband or a phone call. So I decided to go. I typed all the way up and back (a challenge on some of those mountain switchbacks!) and all of Sunday morning and still had to pull a near all-nighter to finish, but it was worth it.
The Mountain House, located in the Granby Ranch development at the Sol Vista ski resort in Granby, CO, is about 20 minutes from Winter Park. My sister chose this development because it offers activities in four seasons and is family-friendly. It's quiet and peaceful and there's a spectacular view out of every room except the loft (although I discovered the desk in the loft is the perfect study spot). We hung out, took a walk, slept in front of a movie (at least this part of we did), and hung out some more. On Sunday afternoon, Fer treated us to massages. MMMmmmmmmmmm
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| We went for a walk and discovered this piece of abandoned farm machinery lurking in a field. |
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| It reminded me of some bizarre mechanical elephant. |
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| Berries brighten the path. |
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| The Fraser River, where Tina and Tony went fly fishing this summer. |
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| This building seemed to be snuggled into the bosom of the earth. |
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| We hiked up to a little gazebo. Pant, pant, puff, gasp. Wow, am I out of shape! |
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| It took a long time for the darn thing to get this big. |
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| But the views at the top were rewarding. |
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| Western beauty. |
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| The Mountain House, seen from the gazebo. |
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| The gazebo, seen later (whew!) from the Mountain House deck (the view over my cocktail). |
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| The hot tub at Devil's Thumb Ranch Resort where we luxuriated in massages on Sunday. |
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Missing You and Meeting the Inmates
Feeling Far Away
This week I'm really missing all of my friends. It's one thing to be away for a while; it's another to be gone. I miss Saturday yoga with Maddy and my favorite yogi and yoginis at The Farm. I miss walking along Rye beach with Christine, meeting Kellie for dinner in Portsmouth, stopping in for lunch with Nadine and the birds. I miss movies with Jean (C) and music with Peggy. I miss eating ice cream with Cindy (Conlin) and laughing til my sides hurt with Jean (S). I miss catching up with the Swanson team and Friday lunches in Portsmouth with Cindy (Connelly). I miss being able to drop in at the Women Supporting Women center for a circle of friendship with Claire. I never thought I'd say it, but I even miss Balmoral Board meetings. Sigh.
Heartfelt thanks to all of you who have taken time to drop me a note - your kind words help me feel less disconnected. If not before, I promise you'll hear from me next month when the quarter is over.
On the Other Hand...
So I'm living this schizophrenic existence where I'm desperately missing home and yet terrifically excited about what I'm doing here. You may not categorize the week's events this way, but I found touring the jail and observing two sessions with inmates fascinating.
Denver County Jail
To enter the jail, we show our badges to the officers in the glass booth and they open the first door of the sally port. We walk in and the door closes behind us. Then we stand inside the control area where, presumably, they are checking to make sure our faces match our badges and that we aren't carrying contraband. Once they're satisfied, they open the second door onto a long corridor. Lining either side are four or five tiny rooms just large enough for two people to sit at a small table. When we are seeing clients for individual counseling, we can meet them in one of these rooms. Past the rooms are wooden benches on which inmates sit awaiting their turn.
At the end of the hall a large metal gate opens to let us through. At the end of that hall, we show our badges to officers in a control booth. Although the sally port rooms are available for seeing clients, we may choose to see them in offices nearer where they're housed. We visited several locations, including medical (Building 4, where we file our counseling notes), the men's and women's transition units (Building 22a and 21G, respectively), and the parole offices (Building 19, where inmate files are kept). By the time we arrived at my supervisor's office in whatever other building it's in, I was thoroughly lost. It's not just that the place feels like a rabbit warren, but also that "building" has a whole new meaning here: for instance, Buildings 4, 21, and 22 are not separate buildings but Building 19 is. Go figure.
In general, the jail is what you would expect of an institution that was built in the 1950s: acres of chain link fence, metal bars, dingy hallways, and bullet-proof glass enclosures. Parts of the jail are undergoing renovation and a new building is being constructed on the site. Another new facility is located downtown. We'll get a tour of that sometime soon.
Living Arrangements
The current thinking about incarceration is that better rapport develops when officers are stationed inside cellblocks instead of being at some distant command post. As a result, you encounter what looks like an information desk staffed by deputies at the heart of each cellblock area. This central desk is on a raised platform, but is otherwise unprotected. My supervisor explained that at first the deputies were not happy with this arrangement, but since have adopted a more positive attitude because it fosters less of an "us against them" mentality.
The men (at least in the transitional unit) have their own cells; women live in dorms because there isn't enough room to give them more space. Dree explained that this living situation is very hard on them. They have zero privacy and there's a lot of infighting. Only one halfway house takes women, compared to about a dozen that take men, so prison life seems to be harder in general for women than it is for men. To add insult to injury, the women wear the stereotypical prison stripes (horizontal, no less), while men wear prison workshirts or sweatshirts.
I want to tell you about my two inmate meetings, but I must go write the five papers that are due this week. Aaaaagggghhhhh! More soon...
This week I'm really missing all of my friends. It's one thing to be away for a while; it's another to be gone. I miss Saturday yoga with Maddy and my favorite yogi and yoginis at The Farm. I miss walking along Rye beach with Christine, meeting Kellie for dinner in Portsmouth, stopping in for lunch with Nadine and the birds. I miss movies with Jean (C) and music with Peggy. I miss eating ice cream with Cindy (Conlin) and laughing til my sides hurt with Jean (S). I miss catching up with the Swanson team and Friday lunches in Portsmouth with Cindy (Connelly). I miss being able to drop in at the Women Supporting Women center for a circle of friendship with Claire. I never thought I'd say it, but I even miss Balmoral Board meetings. Sigh.
Heartfelt thanks to all of you who have taken time to drop me a note - your kind words help me feel less disconnected. If not before, I promise you'll hear from me next month when the quarter is over.
On the Other Hand...
So I'm living this schizophrenic existence where I'm desperately missing home and yet terrifically excited about what I'm doing here. You may not categorize the week's events this way, but I found touring the jail and observing two sessions with inmates fascinating.
Denver County Jail
To enter the jail, we show our badges to the officers in the glass booth and they open the first door of the sally port. We walk in and the door closes behind us. Then we stand inside the control area where, presumably, they are checking to make sure our faces match our badges and that we aren't carrying contraband. Once they're satisfied, they open the second door onto a long corridor. Lining either side are four or five tiny rooms just large enough for two people to sit at a small table. When we are seeing clients for individual counseling, we can meet them in one of these rooms. Past the rooms are wooden benches on which inmates sit awaiting their turn.
At the end of the hall a large metal gate opens to let us through. At the end of that hall, we show our badges to officers in a control booth. Although the sally port rooms are available for seeing clients, we may choose to see them in offices nearer where they're housed. We visited several locations, including medical (Building 4, where we file our counseling notes), the men's and women's transition units (Building 22a and 21G, respectively), and the parole offices (Building 19, where inmate files are kept). By the time we arrived at my supervisor's office in whatever other building it's in, I was thoroughly lost. It's not just that the place feels like a rabbit warren, but also that "building" has a whole new meaning here: for instance, Buildings 4, 21, and 22 are not separate buildings but Building 19 is. Go figure.
In general, the jail is what you would expect of an institution that was built in the 1950s: acres of chain link fence, metal bars, dingy hallways, and bullet-proof glass enclosures. Parts of the jail are undergoing renovation and a new building is being constructed on the site. Another new facility is located downtown. We'll get a tour of that sometime soon.
Living Arrangements
The current thinking about incarceration is that better rapport develops when officers are stationed inside cellblocks instead of being at some distant command post. As a result, you encounter what looks like an information desk staffed by deputies at the heart of each cellblock area. This central desk is on a raised platform, but is otherwise unprotected. My supervisor explained that at first the deputies were not happy with this arrangement, but since have adopted a more positive attitude because it fosters less of an "us against them" mentality.
The men (at least in the transitional unit) have their own cells; women live in dorms because there isn't enough room to give them more space. Dree explained that this living situation is very hard on them. They have zero privacy and there's a lot of infighting. Only one halfway house takes women, compared to about a dozen that take men, so prison life seems to be harder in general for women than it is for men. To add insult to injury, the women wear the stereotypical prison stripes (horizontal, no less), while men wear prison workshirts or sweatshirts.
I want to tell you about my two inmate meetings, but I must go write the five papers that are due this week. Aaaaagggghhhhh! More soon...
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Settling In ... Sort Of
It was a fun, stressful, busy week. Just when I think I'm in the groove and catching up a bit, I get another assignment from my California client. I'm grateful for for the work, but finding it really difficult to switch gears from my newly reacquired facility with school work to researching and writing legal web pages. Besides psychology is a lot more interesting!
Out in the World
I started the week with my Career Counseling class at the Denver Center for International Studies, a magnet school that serves grades 6-12. We each met with a student and learned a little about his/her background and career aspirations after s/he took the Strong Interest Inventory, a tool that assesses career preferences. We'll meet with our students again in a couple weeks to explain their test results and make recommendations.
My student, Yoanna, is a junior. When she graduates from high school, she'll be only the third member of her family to do so and she'll be the first to go to college. She's a good student, very bright (taking two AP classes) and has a lot of interests. I enjoyed getting to know her and hope I can provide some useful information for her. [Of course, it's not all fun and games: a formal Client Assessment paper on the student is due Nov 18.]
Counseling ... Sort Of
Then I handed in my Techniques midterm, a video of a 20-minute counseling session with a student/client from the other class section, accompanied by a self-assessment paper. The hardest part of school so far is having to watch myself on video. Horrific. What made the midterm particularly challenging is that my partner was using a scenario from a friend of hers, so there was no "snake under the water." In other words, it wasn't possible to unearth any real issue because she had only adopted the facts of the matter. We'll find out how I did when I meet with the professor and TA on Wednesday to review the video.
More Jail
Yesterday, us newbies met with the Denver County Jail (DCJ) psychology staff for our first group supervision. Normally, these semi-monthly meetings consist of a presentation by one of the professionals on a relevant topic (suicide, ethics, group therapy, substance abuse, etc.) and two case presentations by student interns. This meeting, however, was an introduction to how the psych department interacts with the the Denver Sheriff Department (DSD) staff who run the jail. We learned about administrative and reporting requirements and more details about how to dress and conduct ourselves.
The staff consists of six professionals including four experienced, doctorate-level psychologists. Of the dozen or so interns in the group, I'm the only first year master's student. There are two second year students from my DU program and the rest are doctoral students, including Dree, the TA who has been so helpful in my getting this position. Although some of the doctoral students are cliquish because they're in the same program, everyone else is very friendly and helpful. What I appreciated most was that we got straight talk about the jail politics rather than a party line whitewash. I can't imagine a richer learning environment.
Life Outside School: Does it Exist?
It's a cold rainy day here in Lafayette. The rest of the family is headed up to the mountain house today to check out the new bathroom (number three) and to play in the snow. I'm staying here to write four legal web pages and complete my reading for the week (yeah, right). So I guess the answer to my question above is "not at the moment."
However, next weekend we're all spending Friday-Sunday in the mountains to celebrate my birthday. Although the prospect of another birthday is never pleasant, what a wonderful way to spend it!
I have many emails from you in my inbox and I promise I will answer them in the near future. Meanwhile, know that I very much appreciate your news and kind wishes. <3 <3 <3 Until soon...
Out in the World
I started the week with my Career Counseling class at the Denver Center for International Studies, a magnet school that serves grades 6-12. We each met with a student and learned a little about his/her background and career aspirations after s/he took the Strong Interest Inventory, a tool that assesses career preferences. We'll meet with our students again in a couple weeks to explain their test results and make recommendations.
My student, Yoanna, is a junior. When she graduates from high school, she'll be only the third member of her family to do so and she'll be the first to go to college. She's a good student, very bright (taking two AP classes) and has a lot of interests. I enjoyed getting to know her and hope I can provide some useful information for her. [Of course, it's not all fun and games: a formal Client Assessment paper on the student is due Nov 18.]
Counseling ... Sort Of
Then I handed in my Techniques midterm, a video of a 20-minute counseling session with a student/client from the other class section, accompanied by a self-assessment paper. The hardest part of school so far is having to watch myself on video. Horrific. What made the midterm particularly challenging is that my partner was using a scenario from a friend of hers, so there was no "snake under the water." In other words, it wasn't possible to unearth any real issue because she had only adopted the facts of the matter. We'll find out how I did when I meet with the professor and TA on Wednesday to review the video.
More Jail
Yesterday, us newbies met with the Denver County Jail (DCJ) psychology staff for our first group supervision. Normally, these semi-monthly meetings consist of a presentation by one of the professionals on a relevant topic (suicide, ethics, group therapy, substance abuse, etc.) and two case presentations by student interns. This meeting, however, was an introduction to how the psych department interacts with the the Denver Sheriff Department (DSD) staff who run the jail. We learned about administrative and reporting requirements and more details about how to dress and conduct ourselves.
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| My worst mugshot ever. |
Life Outside School: Does it Exist?
It's a cold rainy day here in Lafayette. The rest of the family is headed up to the mountain house today to check out the new bathroom (number three) and to play in the snow. I'm staying here to write four legal web pages and complete my reading for the week (yeah, right). So I guess the answer to my question above is "not at the moment."
However, next weekend we're all spending Friday-Sunday in the mountains to celebrate my birthday. Although the prospect of another birthday is never pleasant, what a wonderful way to spend it!
I have many emails from you in my inbox and I promise I will answer them in the near future. Meanwhile, know that I very much appreciate your news and kind wishes. <3 <3 <3 Until soon...
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Training for Jail
On Friday I attended four hours of Civilian Training at the Denver Sheriff Department Academy. Ahead of time Dree said, "Don't let it scare you; it's designed to do that. And just look away when the guy blows his head off." So I arrived at the Academy at once curious and trepidatious.
The Cons' Con
The first half of the training focused on teaching us how to avoid being conned by inmates. Our instructor, Deputy Burroughs, reminded us that inmates have nothing to do all day except scheme. They are astute observers and will explore every means possible to get the upper hand. They will try everything from asking to borrow a pen to charming us into giving them special favors to brushing against us as they walk by. We need to firm and clear with the word "no."
We learned how to dress (no open-toed shoes, no heels, no skirts, conservative necklines, no flashy jewelry or scarves with which we could be choked), not to let an inmate pass behind us and to always sit next to the door. We learned to pay attention to our surroundings at all times, to be careful of what we say that could be overheard, and to always maintain a safe distance between ourselves and the inmates.
Encounters with Contraband
The second half of the training consisted of Deputy Yamaguchi explaining about contraband. Due to recent cutbacks, there are about 70 prisoners for every officer, way too many for the jail to be thoroughly policed. Consequently, contraband is found all the time. Contraband is anything that prisoners aren't issued or allowed to buy, which is pretty much ... well, anything. The rule is, if you bring it in with you, take it out with you.
Drugs
The most popular contraband is repurposed prescription drugs, especially the anti-psychotics that are distributed twice a day to inmates. Inmates swallow them, regurgitate them, dry them out, stockpile them, and use them for currency. (The nationwide closing of mental hospitals has turned jails and prisons into unstaffed mental wards - see PBS Frontline The New Asylums).
In jail, there's a lot of marijuana, heroin, cocaine, ecstasy and meth, with the latter two being the most popular in Colorado. Prisoners are ingenious in the ways they hide their stash. We saw pictures of various caches, including flip-flops soles, hollowed out soap bars in cleverly resealed boxes (toothpaste, apparently, is an effective adhesive), and a bag of marijuana fashioned into a penis and sewed into boxer shorts.
Weapons
After drugs, the most prevalent contraband is weapons. There are guns, knives and shanks - objects with pointed ends designed to maim or kill. Shanks can be and are made from just about anything, from pens, to deodorant twist-up mechanisms, to newspaper. One clever inmate removed the tongue plate from a door jamb, made a duplicate from the shiny side of a potato chip bag, replaced it, and then sharpened the metal plate into a nasty weapon (they sharpen objects by scraping them on the concrete floors of their cells).
One enterprising inmate used newspaper and water to create paper mache armor and a lethal spear.
Another item that inmates manufacture is handcuff keys. Apparently these are very simple to create from almost anything - a small piece of chainlink fence, a paper clip, a metal envelope clasp. Hence, handcuffs are no guarantee of safety.
The Cost of Contraband
Contraband is brought in by arrestees, inmate work crews, the U.S. mail, corrupt staff, and civilians. We heard stories of official visitors - counselors, lawyers, a priest - who'd lost their livelihoods because they brought in contraband for inmates. One lawyer fell for an inmate's romantic con and ended up being debarred for bringing him in a phone.
The deputy told us the story of a fellow who was arrested in Denver and brought to the city jail. He was detained overnight, brought to court the next morning for arraignment and then transported to the county facility. We watched a video from the closed circuit TV of what transpired next.
Although it wasn't quite "blowing his head off" (thankfully!) seeing a man kill himself was pretty disturbing. And this was after viewing photos of a guy lying in the street with his intestines on the outside of his body after his mobile meth lab exploded and of several inmates hacked up and sliced open by contraband knives, shanks and razors. It was not a morning for the squeamish.
Am I Crazy?
I know that's what my sister wanted to ask me after I recounted some of this. I had asked myself that question on the way home. My conclusion: no, I don't think so. The training was designed to scare us into putting safety above all else and not becoming complacent in a room full of potentially dangerous people. But we won't be counseling people in handcuffs and leg irons. All counseling is voluntary, so these will be people on their way to halfway houses or trying to earn early release or actually wanting to make sense of their lives.
My interest in the incarcerated began many years ago when I read Jack Henry Abbott's account of his life in prison. In the Belly of the Beast contains Abbott's letters to Norman Mailer, who ended up championing for Abbott's release. (This backfired on Mailer when Abbott fatally stabbed a waiter after he was released.) What intrigued me about Abbott was his distorted values and complete desensitization to violence - he describes the pleasure of feeling the waiter's warm blood on his hand. His is a world apart from ours, but it is part of the real world.
I've likened this whole experience to an internet date: looks good on screen, but you won't know until you meet whether there's any future together. I suspect I'll find out quickly whether this is for me or not. We'll see what happens when the rubber meets the road. More soon...
The Cons' Con
The first half of the training focused on teaching us how to avoid being conned by inmates. Our instructor, Deputy Burroughs, reminded us that inmates have nothing to do all day except scheme. They are astute observers and will explore every means possible to get the upper hand. They will try everything from asking to borrow a pen to charming us into giving them special favors to brushing against us as they walk by. We need to firm and clear with the word "no."
We learned how to dress (no open-toed shoes, no heels, no skirts, conservative necklines, no flashy jewelry or scarves with which we could be choked), not to let an inmate pass behind us and to always sit next to the door. We learned to pay attention to our surroundings at all times, to be careful of what we say that could be overheard, and to always maintain a safe distance between ourselves and the inmates.
Encounters with Contraband
The second half of the training consisted of Deputy Yamaguchi explaining about contraband. Due to recent cutbacks, there are about 70 prisoners for every officer, way too many for the jail to be thoroughly policed. Consequently, contraband is found all the time. Contraband is anything that prisoners aren't issued or allowed to buy, which is pretty much ... well, anything. The rule is, if you bring it in with you, take it out with you.
Drugs
The most popular contraband is repurposed prescription drugs, especially the anti-psychotics that are distributed twice a day to inmates. Inmates swallow them, regurgitate them, dry them out, stockpile them, and use them for currency. (The nationwide closing of mental hospitals has turned jails and prisons into unstaffed mental wards - see PBS Frontline The New Asylums).
In jail, there's a lot of marijuana, heroin, cocaine, ecstasy and meth, with the latter two being the most popular in Colorado. Prisoners are ingenious in the ways they hide their stash. We saw pictures of various caches, including flip-flops soles, hollowed out soap bars in cleverly resealed boxes (toothpaste, apparently, is an effective adhesive), and a bag of marijuana fashioned into a penis and sewed into boxer shorts.
Weapons
After drugs, the most prevalent contraband is weapons. There are guns, knives and shanks - objects with pointed ends designed to maim or kill. Shanks can be and are made from just about anything, from pens, to deodorant twist-up mechanisms, to newspaper. One clever inmate removed the tongue plate from a door jamb, made a duplicate from the shiny side of a potato chip bag, replaced it, and then sharpened the metal plate into a nasty weapon (they sharpen objects by scraping them on the concrete floors of their cells).
One enterprising inmate used newspaper and water to create paper mache armor and a lethal spear.
Another item that inmates manufacture is handcuff keys. Apparently these are very simple to create from almost anything - a small piece of chainlink fence, a paper clip, a metal envelope clasp. Hence, handcuffs are no guarantee of safety.
The Cost of Contraband
Contraband is brought in by arrestees, inmate work crews, the U.S. mail, corrupt staff, and civilians. We heard stories of official visitors - counselors, lawyers, a priest - who'd lost their livelihoods because they brought in contraband for inmates. One lawyer fell for an inmate's romantic con and ended up being debarred for bringing him in a phone.
The deputy told us the story of a fellow who was arrested in Denver and brought to the city jail. He was detained overnight, brought to court the next morning for arraignment and then transported to the county facility. We watched a video from the closed circuit TV of what transpired next.
The arrestee and officer enter a room. The guy sits down in a chair across from the door. The officer leaves and returns with a cup of water for the arrestee, and then the officer leaves again for a minute or so. As soon as the officer leaves the room the second time, the guy reaches into his waistband, takes out a sizable revolver and fatally shoots himself in the head. We see the officer reappear and holler, "Aw shit! Nobody shook him."The lesson for new recruits was obvious: this guy could have done a lot more damage than just killing himself because several people failed to search him when they should have.
Although it wasn't quite "blowing his head off" (thankfully!) seeing a man kill himself was pretty disturbing. And this was after viewing photos of a guy lying in the street with his intestines on the outside of his body after his mobile meth lab exploded and of several inmates hacked up and sliced open by contraband knives, shanks and razors. It was not a morning for the squeamish.
Am I Crazy?
I know that's what my sister wanted to ask me after I recounted some of this. I had asked myself that question on the way home. My conclusion: no, I don't think so. The training was designed to scare us into putting safety above all else and not becoming complacent in a room full of potentially dangerous people. But we won't be counseling people in handcuffs and leg irons. All counseling is voluntary, so these will be people on their way to halfway houses or trying to earn early release or actually wanting to make sense of their lives.
My interest in the incarcerated began many years ago when I read Jack Henry Abbott's account of his life in prison. In the Belly of the Beast contains Abbott's letters to Norman Mailer, who ended up championing for Abbott's release. (This backfired on Mailer when Abbott fatally stabbed a waiter after he was released.) What intrigued me about Abbott was his distorted values and complete desensitization to violence - he describes the pleasure of feeling the waiter's warm blood on his hand. His is a world apart from ours, but it is part of the real world.
I've likened this whole experience to an internet date: looks good on screen, but you won't know until you meet whether there's any future together. I suspect I'll find out quickly whether this is for me or not. We'll see what happens when the rubber meets the road. More soon...
P.S. Thank you for your kind emails. I miss you all terribly and wish we could just spend an afternoon catching up. Soon, soon, I promise!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Guest Blogger: Tony
[I explained to the twins that I'd talked to you about them and wondered if they would like to tell you anything about themselves. Here's Tony's post...]
[P.S. Tony wanted you to know that he would be happy to answer any questions you have for him!]
Name: Tony
Age: 9
Hobbies: Lego’s, army figurines, battle tops
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| Tony saved his allowance, ordered these two incredibly complex models, and built them in only a few hours. Guess the engineering acorn hasn't fallen far from the tree! |
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| A closer view of one of the models (and its builder!). |
Things I like to do: online games, figurine battles, build Lego’s, read, and play soccer
Places I like to go: bowling alleys, Chuck e Cheese, Movie Theater
My favorite sport: soccer
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| Tony practices soccer three times a week and has a least one game on the weekends. Plus he's in the intermediate chess club at school and gets coached on running one afternoon a week. Busy boy! |
Fact: I’m reading the Percy Jackson series.
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| Tony is an avid reader. On his Christmas wish list: a Kindle! |
I am very athletic. I have played soccer for four years. I am very excited that my aunt is moving to my house for two years to get her master’s degree!!!!!!!!! And I am happy to be on her blog! I live in Lafayette CO. It’s a cool place. My school is Lafayette elementary. My teacher is named Mr. Tingley. I have a house in the mountains too. I am going to it for Christmas. I have a guinea pig named Brownie. I can’t wait to meet you when you come to visit Aunt Lex.
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| Feeding Brownie his favorite treat - green peppers. |
Friday, September 23, 2011
Oh Wow
I'm learning many things, among them that each week is equivalent to a month under the quarter system. Therefore, a LOT has happened since I last wrote.
As I mentioned in the last post, the purpose of my Fieldwork class is to locate a practicum site and spend 30 hours training for that experience. I've identified four primary areas of interest that I'd like to pursue: post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD), particularly in combat veterans; working with prisoners; working in hospice; and doing mental health assessments.
Last week in my Theory class, I learned that Dree, one of our doctoral student teaching assistants (TAs), is working at the Denver County Jail, so I emailed her about my interest and asked if she would meet with me to discuss possible practicum opportunities. She agreed.
In the meantime, I sought out the "Blue Books," binders that contain write-ups and contact information about prior practicum sites. Fernando, a TA from my Theory class, happened to be walking by, so I asked him where the books are stored. He showed me and then asked about my interests. Turns out that he previously worked at the Denver County Jail and he gave me the name and email of the person to contact there. Fernando emailed me the next day and said that I should email them immediately because they would be interviewing next week. I sent off my resume.
On Monday afternoon, I met up with Dree. I explained what had transpired with Fernando and she gave me advice about the interview, should I get one. Just then, Fernando happened on the scene. They both proceeded to give me lots of great info about the place, in particular stressing that they thought the supervisors at the jail are excellent - key to a good placement.
I was feeling very lucky 1) to have found these two people, since working with prisoners is not an especially popular placement, and 2) that they were both so generous with their time and advice. Then Kenny joined our group.
Kenny is one of the second-year students who served on the panel that answered questions of us candidates during my interview day in the spring. When I was so horribly on the fence deciding between DU and UCD, it was Kenny's face radiating enthusiasm for the program, pride in the school and conviction that he was getting a superlative education that helped sway me to DU. So I got the opportunity to thank him and to get to know him a little better. During the course of our conversation, he decided to apply to DCJ also for an internship position.
By the time we'd wrapped up our conversation, I had only a few minutes before the start of a library-sponsored online webinar, so I sat in a comfy chair, plugged my MacBook Air into the outlet in the center of the table, and learned all sorts of very helpful tips about searching Google databases.
That night driving home I knew I was one of the luckiest people on the planet. I was awash in gratitude for having this amazing opportunity, for being at such an exceptional institution, for being so well cared for by total strangers, for having gotten here on the wings of my many treasured friends and family members. Wow, it doesn't get any better than this, does it?
Of course by Wednesday, I was once again questioning my sanity as I struggled to finish Blue Moon work and my weekly Thursday paper (I have 1-2 page papers due every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday), for which I had yet to do the reading. Such is the seesaw of student life.
However, I was able to finish the week on a high note. This morning I interviewed at the Denver County Jail and this afternoon received a placement offer. Hooray! I am thrilled and also surprised, since they told me that there were 10 candidates for only one or two positions. Whew - one less thing to worry about.
So I am going to kick back a little this Friday evening and lift a glass to all of you who helped me succeed today - cheers!
As I mentioned in the last post, the purpose of my Fieldwork class is to locate a practicum site and spend 30 hours training for that experience. I've identified four primary areas of interest that I'd like to pursue: post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD), particularly in combat veterans; working with prisoners; working in hospice; and doing mental health assessments.
Last week in my Theory class, I learned that Dree, one of our doctoral student teaching assistants (TAs), is working at the Denver County Jail, so I emailed her about my interest and asked if she would meet with me to discuss possible practicum opportunities. She agreed.
In the meantime, I sought out the "Blue Books," binders that contain write-ups and contact information about prior practicum sites. Fernando, a TA from my Theory class, happened to be walking by, so I asked him where the books are stored. He showed me and then asked about my interests. Turns out that he previously worked at the Denver County Jail and he gave me the name and email of the person to contact there. Fernando emailed me the next day and said that I should email them immediately because they would be interviewing next week. I sent off my resume.
On Monday afternoon, I met up with Dree. I explained what had transpired with Fernando and she gave me advice about the interview, should I get one. Just then, Fernando happened on the scene. They both proceeded to give me lots of great info about the place, in particular stressing that they thought the supervisors at the jail are excellent - key to a good placement.
I was feeling very lucky 1) to have found these two people, since working with prisoners is not an especially popular placement, and 2) that they were both so generous with their time and advice. Then Kenny joined our group.
Kenny is one of the second-year students who served on the panel that answered questions of us candidates during my interview day in the spring. When I was so horribly on the fence deciding between DU and UCD, it was Kenny's face radiating enthusiasm for the program, pride in the school and conviction that he was getting a superlative education that helped sway me to DU. So I got the opportunity to thank him and to get to know him a little better. During the course of our conversation, he decided to apply to DCJ also for an internship position.
By the time we'd wrapped up our conversation, I had only a few minutes before the start of a library-sponsored online webinar, so I sat in a comfy chair, plugged my MacBook Air into the outlet in the center of the table, and learned all sorts of very helpful tips about searching Google databases.
That night driving home I knew I was one of the luckiest people on the planet. I was awash in gratitude for having this amazing opportunity, for being at such an exceptional institution, for being so well cared for by total strangers, for having gotten here on the wings of my many treasured friends and family members. Wow, it doesn't get any better than this, does it?
Of course by Wednesday, I was once again questioning my sanity as I struggled to finish Blue Moon work and my weekly Thursday paper (I have 1-2 page papers due every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday), for which I had yet to do the reading. Such is the seesaw of student life.
However, I was able to finish the week on a high note. This morning I interviewed at the Denver County Jail and this afternoon received a placement offer. Hooray! I am thrilled and also surprised, since they told me that there were 10 candidates for only one or two positions. Whew - one less thing to worry about.
So I am going to kick back a little this Friday evening and lift a glass to all of you who helped me succeed today - cheers!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Shell Shock
Monday was the first day of classes. By Wednesday evening I was seriously questioning whether I was completely delusional thinking I could do this. After Thursday's Theory class, I was even more overwhelmed.
Did I mention that my class schedule is a mere shadow of the time commitment required by these courses? I'm enrolled in five classes; here they are along with their outside class requirements:
I've been trying to get a handle on what's due when - and figuring out how I'm going to do all this along with Blue Moon projects. Not helping the situation was my California client, who emailed Tuesday at 5p asking for web pages for immigration and patent/trademark law by Friday morning. Needless to say, that didn't happen.
The good news: both the school and the program are AWESOME! I'm totally jazzed to be a part of this.
We had our first Triad on Wednesday. This exercise requires that one student play the counselor and one the client. The third (along with the TA) observes. So the "client" invents a situation and the "counselor" tries to help them understand/resolve it. Then the observers provide feedback.
Sounds hokey, right? Believe it or not, it was a transformative experience. Not because we were particularly effective counselors (yet!), but because of the dynamic that was created between the "counselor" and the "client." Even though the scenarios were fictional, a palpable energy developed between the two role players. I suddenly realized how powerful and truly life-changing a counseling relationship can be. Of course I knew that (mentally) because I've benefited from a number of wonderful counselors, but had never truly felt it.
As most of you know, I jumped onto this path because of a simple news article - counseling psychology just "felt" like the right thing to do. Now I know why. Wow, v exciting!
On Friday I didn't have classes, but I was on campus for my physical and to meet with a research librarian to get the skinny on resources (a million books and 95,000 online journals - should be sufficient!), so I took a few pix for you.
Did I mention that my class schedule is a mere shadow of the time commitment required by these courses? I'm enrolled in five classes; here they are along with their outside class requirements:
- Counseling Techniques - 2 hrs/week for Triad (role-playing with two other students and TA)
- Career Counseling - Visit Denver magnet school (2X) to counsel students
- Diversity - 6 hrs/quarter spending time w/cultural "pal;" volunteer at soup kitchen or at DU; weekly "Multicultural Adventure"
- Counseling Fieldwork - 30 hrs/quarter locating and training for Practicum placement during winter quarter
- Counseling Theory - None! (I LOVE this class...)
I've been trying to get a handle on what's due when - and figuring out how I'm going to do all this along with Blue Moon projects. Not helping the situation was my California client, who emailed Tuesday at 5p asking for web pages for immigration and patent/trademark law by Friday morning. Needless to say, that didn't happen.
The good news: both the school and the program are AWESOME! I'm totally jazzed to be a part of this.
We had our first Triad on Wednesday. This exercise requires that one student play the counselor and one the client. The third (along with the TA) observes. So the "client" invents a situation and the "counselor" tries to help them understand/resolve it. Then the observers provide feedback.
Sounds hokey, right? Believe it or not, it was a transformative experience. Not because we were particularly effective counselors (yet!), but because of the dynamic that was created between the "counselor" and the "client." Even though the scenarios were fictional, a palpable energy developed between the two role players. I suddenly realized how powerful and truly life-changing a counseling relationship can be. Of course I knew that (mentally) because I've benefited from a number of wonderful counselors, but had never truly felt it.
As most of you know, I jumped onto this path because of a simple news article - counseling psychology just "felt" like the right thing to do. Now I know why. Wow, v exciting!
On Friday I didn't have classes, but I was on campus for my physical and to meet with a research librarian to get the skinny on resources (a million books and 95,000 online journals - should be sufficient!), so I took a few pix for you.
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| Found this lovely deck complete with umbrellaed tables in Driscoll Hall, the building that houses the bookstore and the library, while the new one is being built. |
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| View from the Driscoll deck. The building stretches across the road; we're looking at that walkway. |
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| The front of Ruffatto Hall, where the Counseling Psych program is housed. |
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| Inside Ruffatto Hall, looking down from the second floor at the central common area. All the furniture is modular and can easily be reconfigured to accommodate whatever size group happens to gather. |
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| Ruffatto is very light and bright. On each floor is a galley that includes a kitchen with sink, fridge, microwave, hot/cold water machine, etc. |
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| On the fourth floor of Ruffatto is the aptly named Mountainview conference room and terrace. |
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View from the terrace - the mountains are visible to the left. To the right is downtown Denver.
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Wednesday, September 14, 2011
What Were We Thinking?
When the huge moving truck arrived on Sunday afternoon carrying 183 pieces of my New Hampshire life, we all wondered what the hell we'd been thinking. How on earth were we going to squeeze this tractor trailer full of household goods, clothes, furniture and gym equipment into a bedroom and a storage room?
It was daunting. I credit my family for not handing me a one-way DEN-BOS ticket and their regrets.
My sister and I had spent Saturday afternoon rearranging shelving to make way. The moving team was friendly, helpful and talented at squeezing lots of stuff into not so much space. We managed to fill the wine room and rearrange existing furniture to accommodate mine. Haven't yet unpacked the mountain of books and we haven't found a place for the queen bed we took out of the guest room. But my room is feeling like home and I'm gradually getting organized.
Many, many thanks to all the helping hands that carefully packed all my treasures and ensured they made it here whole. You'll never imagine how much I appreciate you.
The movers came Sunday afternoon and then school started Monday. Holy moly. And that's a subject for another post...
It was daunting. I credit my family for not handing me a one-way DEN-BOS ticket and their regrets.
My sister and I had spent Saturday afternoon rearranging shelving to make way. The moving team was friendly, helpful and talented at squeezing lots of stuff into not so much space. We managed to fill the wine room and rearrange existing furniture to accommodate mine. Haven't yet unpacked the mountain of books and we haven't found a place for the queen bed we took out of the guest room. But my room is feeling like home and I'm gradually getting organized.
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| Wine room, view 1. |
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| Wine room, view 2. I know several of you will recognize the items in this mess! |
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| I haven't yet tackled the mountain of books. |
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| Blue Moon West |
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Oriented
Yesterday I spent the day at school - and sitting on the 25 (I-25) during rush hour.
The morning consisted of general info about the school (the Counseling Psych program resides in the Morgridge School of Education); in the afternoon we learned more about our program.
The university library offers an impressive collection of content and services, including the offer to purchase books in a subject area if they're needed (what you get for your $50K/year!). I now have affordable dental and health insurance (wasted no time scheduling my annual exam) and access to a 440,000 sq. ft. health and fitness facility, which features the largest indoor pool I've ever seen. Nice. We get discounted personal training sessions, which I will explore, but my priority is finding a Kripalu yoga class near home.
Aside: huge student benefit = Office for Mac 2011 for $99. :) :) :)
The Counseling Psychology program is housed in a brand new building (Ruffato Hall), so it boasts all the latest in electronic collaboration tools - digital whiteboards in all classrooms and in alcoves where mobile furniture can be easily reconfigured for small group meetings.
The University counseling clinic is located in Ruffato, too, and comprises four session rooms with a central viewing room for closed circuit TV monitoring. This will be central to much of our learning, as we critique ourselves and others during actual counseling sessions.
This year's CP cohort is large at 30 or so. I chatted with several people whom I'd met during the interview process and met a number of new folks. A large number (half or more?) of us are from out of state. Seems I'm the oldest student by a large margin, but don't think that will be an issue, except when it comes to remembering things (such as the names of all those pleasant folks I just met).
Turns out that the manageable class schedule I have is an illusion. Although I'm in class only three days a week (M 9-1:20, W 9-11:50, Th 9-2:20), many classes require large time commitments outside of class (beyond studying, that is). For instance, one class requires two hours per week to role play counseling sessions with a small group. Another (fieldwork) requires many hours outside of class to find a practicum site for winter quarter.
As hinted at above, the commute wasn't pretty yesterday. I'm sure it will be better when I leave campus earlier than 4:15 and it's not Friday afternoon, but the morning won't be fun (although it's like a jog in the park compared to the NH-Boston commute). However, the $475 I coughed up for a parking pass was well worth it - the garage sits directly across the street from Ruffato.
As a student, I have a free rapid transit pass, so I could take a bus to the light rail and the light rail to campus, about a 2-hour commute. Whether I take advantage of that or not likely will depend on the price of gas and the amount of running around I have to do to fieldwork/practicum/internship sites.
Sorry if I just put you to sleep with all this school minutiae - I'm like a little kid again, savoring all the details!
The moving van arrives tomorrow, so I'll finally have all my stuff in one place. Sure hope I can find that teeny tiny USB receiver for my trackball that I cleverly put in some safe place. [Update: Believe it or not, somewhere among the 100+ cartons, I found it - hooray!]
Hope you all are well and know that you're in my thoughts. Happy weekend!
The morning consisted of general info about the school (the Counseling Psych program resides in the Morgridge School of Education); in the afternoon we learned more about our program.
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| The (badly photographed) sign for the Morgridge School of Ed outside Ruffato Hall. |
The university library offers an impressive collection of content and services, including the offer to purchase books in a subject area if they're needed (what you get for your $50K/year!). I now have affordable dental and health insurance (wasted no time scheduling my annual exam) and access to a 440,000 sq. ft. health and fitness facility, which features the largest indoor pool I've ever seen. Nice. We get discounted personal training sessions, which I will explore, but my priority is finding a Kripalu yoga class near home.
Aside: huge student benefit = Office for Mac 2011 for $99. :) :) :)
The Counseling Psychology program is housed in a brand new building (Ruffato Hall), so it boasts all the latest in electronic collaboration tools - digital whiteboards in all classrooms and in alcoves where mobile furniture can be easily reconfigured for small group meetings.
The University counseling clinic is located in Ruffato, too, and comprises four session rooms with a central viewing room for closed circuit TV monitoring. This will be central to much of our learning, as we critique ourselves and others during actual counseling sessions.
This year's CP cohort is large at 30 or so. I chatted with several people whom I'd met during the interview process and met a number of new folks. A large number (half or more?) of us are from out of state. Seems I'm the oldest student by a large margin, but don't think that will be an issue, except when it comes to remembering things (such as the names of all those pleasant folks I just met).
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| We enjoyed our (catered, gourmet box) lunch outside Ruffato Hall. The red totes held stainless water bottles, pens and t-shirts. We are OUTFITTED! In the suit is Dr. Patrick Sherry, head of the Counseling Psych program. His specialty is workplace trauma and he has a large research grant from the transportation industry. Recently his group interviewed victims and observers of the horrible rail accident that happened in California. |
Turns out that the manageable class schedule I have is an illusion. Although I'm in class only three days a week (M 9-1:20, W 9-11:50, Th 9-2:20), many classes require large time commitments outside of class (beyond studying, that is). For instance, one class requires two hours per week to role play counseling sessions with a small group. Another (fieldwork) requires many hours outside of class to find a practicum site for winter quarter.
As hinted at above, the commute wasn't pretty yesterday. I'm sure it will be better when I leave campus earlier than 4:15 and it's not Friday afternoon, but the morning won't be fun (although it's like a jog in the park compared to the NH-Boston commute). However, the $475 I coughed up for a parking pass was well worth it - the garage sits directly across the street from Ruffato.
As a student, I have a free rapid transit pass, so I could take a bus to the light rail and the light rail to campus, about a 2-hour commute. Whether I take advantage of that or not likely will depend on the price of gas and the amount of running around I have to do to fieldwork/practicum/internship sites.
 |
| Woohoo! |
Sorry if I just put you to sleep with all this school minutiae - I'm like a little kid again, savoring all the details!
The moving van arrives tomorrow, so I'll finally have all my stuff in one place. Sure hope I can find that teeny tiny USB receiver for my trackball that I cleverly put in some safe place. [Update: Believe it or not, somewhere among the 100+ cartons, I found it - hooray!]
Hope you all are well and know that you're in my thoughts. Happy weekend!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Home at Last
Pink said it best, trilling away all day today (for the first time since we left NH) in her cheeriest Pink voice - we're happy to be here!
Some interesting sights along the long way:
Now I'll get off my soapbox before I fall and break something. Besides, I have two more lists. What else I learned:
Some interesting sights along the long way:
- Three teenagers sitting in the road - not beside it, IN it - around a curve at dusk in dark clothing. In North Platte, I suppose that's how you get a thrill on a Tuesday night. I'm really glad I saw them because that's a thrill I could live without (and they probably wouldn't have).
- In La Quinta hotel, an attractive, nicely dressed, thirtyish woman sitting on the floor, legs stretched across the entire hallway, talking on the phone. For about an hour. Yes, weird.
- Sign on I-80: Prepass Site Follow In-Cab Signals. Do you speak trucker? I discovered I don't.
- Crossing from NE to CO brought an immediate change in geography: flat brownish green became rolling brown, dust devils blowing up here and there. Often there was no evidence of civilization except the road, which represented it poorly, at best (see previous post).
Now I'll get off my soapbox before I fall and break something. Besides, I have two more lists. What else I learned:
- I'm very fortunate.
- I never knew how much corporate travel had spoiled me until I looked into the gaping maw of the Econo Lodge that first night.
- Of the places I stayed, the Comfort Inn was the best value for the money.
- Tweets don't cotton to car travel.
- If you're in a hurry, forget it.
- There's no place like home.
- The low-wage workers who took the time and expended the energy to offer me a clean place to sleep
- That no one broke into my car and stole jewelry, camera, electronics, etc., despite the unheeded warning at the Econo Lodge: lock car and remove valuables
- GPS!
- Wendy's Spicy Chicken Caesar salad
- My cute-butt Subaru Impreza - a champ!
- My simply amazing family for offering to house me
- My incredible, exceptional, generous, kind, funny, loving, hard-working and long-suffering friends - may all your assistance and support be repaid one-thousandfold!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Westward Ho! - Day 6
We've arrived! With 2,156 miles on the tires and at least that many bugs on the grill, the trusty BLMOON Subaru drove into the garage about 3p MT. Whew!
The last leg was the most difficult driving - I-76 comprises concrete slabs that must have been laid by the crew that didn't learn what they needed to know in kindergarten because none are level. The bumpity bumpity bumpity bump was so bad that I couldn't even do the speed limit. I swear we traveled as far vertically over the course of that road as we did horizontally.
The Tweets, needless to say, were relieved when we stopped. Safe and secure in the corner of my room, they sang tonight for the first time since we left home and are now sound asleep. All's well.
Luckily, no twins were hurt as a result of my arrival, although Tina nearly did a face plant on the newly painted garage floor in her excitement to welcome me. Tony considerately waited until after dinner to show me the stitches he got in his knee this weekend when he crashed his new mountain bike coming down ... a mountain. I can't believe they take that moniker so seriously here - a "mountain" bike just means fatter tires on the road, doesn't it? Apparently not.
Both twins have grown up again since I saw them at the end of May. Not only will we be doing homework together, I have a feeling I'm going to be counting on them to do most of mine. (Received my books today - very disappointed that they aren't much thicker for the amount of $ I paid.)
My welcome included a fabulous dinner of shrimp and tofu pad thai whipped up by Chelsey, the amazing gourmet nanny. For those of you worried that I may not come back east, I can tell you that she'll be the reason if I stay. Incidentally, she's from CT, just moved here a couple of months ago. She and her boyfriend drove out in TWO days. I can't even fathom it.
In the front hall looms a huge stack of cartons containing all the books I shipped via USPS. Except the empty carton, that is - the bottom and all contents are missing. Word to the wise: when buying shipping cartons, go to Home Depot, not Lowe's and don't trust anything valuable to the Post Office. There's a reason it's going out of business.
I want to share some observations about the trip and about today's drive, but they'll have to wait until after I've caught up a little on rest, which can't happen until I get the clothes, electronic gear, and bird supplies off the bed. Meanwhile, thanks to all of you for your well wishes during our journey - it was on your wings that we flew here!
The last leg was the most difficult driving - I-76 comprises concrete slabs that must have been laid by the crew that didn't learn what they needed to know in kindergarten because none are level. The bumpity bumpity bumpity bump was so bad that I couldn't even do the speed limit. I swear we traveled as far vertically over the course of that road as we did horizontally.
The Tweets, needless to say, were relieved when we stopped. Safe and secure in the corner of my room, they sang tonight for the first time since we left home and are now sound asleep. All's well.
Luckily, no twins were hurt as a result of my arrival, although Tina nearly did a face plant on the newly painted garage floor in her excitement to welcome me. Tony considerately waited until after dinner to show me the stitches he got in his knee this weekend when he crashed his new mountain bike coming down ... a mountain. I can't believe they take that moniker so seriously here - a "mountain" bike just means fatter tires on the road, doesn't it? Apparently not.
Both twins have grown up again since I saw them at the end of May. Not only will we be doing homework together, I have a feeling I'm going to be counting on them to do most of mine. (Received my books today - very disappointed that they aren't much thicker for the amount of $ I paid.)
My welcome included a fabulous dinner of shrimp and tofu pad thai whipped up by Chelsey, the amazing gourmet nanny. For those of you worried that I may not come back east, I can tell you that she'll be the reason if I stay. Incidentally, she's from CT, just moved here a couple of months ago. She and her boyfriend drove out in TWO days. I can't even fathom it.
In the front hall looms a huge stack of cartons containing all the books I shipped via USPS. Except the empty carton, that is - the bottom and all contents are missing. Word to the wise: when buying shipping cartons, go to Home Depot, not Lowe's and don't trust anything valuable to the Post Office. There's a reason it's going out of business.
I want to share some observations about the trip and about today's drive, but they'll have to wait until after I've caught up a little on rest, which can't happen until I get the clothes, electronic gear, and bird supplies off the bed. Meanwhile, thanks to all of you for your well wishes during our journey - it was on your wings that we flew here!
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| Surprisingly, the bonsai umbrella plant survived the trip relatively unscathed. |
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Westward Ho! - Day 5
Ciao from North Platte, Nebraska! We are in big sky prairie country - it's flat and windy and smells spring-grass fresh. When I pulled into La Quinta, a treat on our
last night on the road (and quite a step up from last night's Super 8), all I could see in any direction was the gas station next door.
I made only two fast stops today, so I'm pretty fried now - still feeling the rhythm of those concrete road sections. When I covered the Tweets tonight, they immediately jumped onto their "bed," a swinging perch they sleep on at the top of the cage, and quieted down, instead of jockeying for position like they usually do.
As we've moved west, the lush greenery has ceded to browner, scrubblier vegetation. The speed limit also increased to 75 - woohoo! Unfortunately, many Nebraskans believe that the left lane is for travelin', no matter what speed you're going, so I had to do a lot of passing on the right to maintain speed. I also discovered that 80+ mph is not economical; I only got 26.7 mpg at that speed, as opposed to a record high of 32 mpg at 65-70.
Just outside Omaha, we passed (on the left) Rascal Flatts' tour trailer.
Last night watched a Jon Stewart piece showing the screaming heads calling Warren Buffett a socialist (and worse) for suggesting that the super rich should be taxed more. Wanted to stop in and tell him how much I agree with his taxing sentiments.
But Omaha doesn't offer the traveler a friendly welcome. Entering the city, we were greeted by a ... sculpture is really too generous a term ... monstrosity framing a bridge over the highway. It looks like Godzilla threw up a giant erector set at either end. All pointy and violent and fierce. Not, IMHO, aesthetically pleasing at all.
In contrast, I-80 was framed much of the way by wild yellow daisies, what us Marylanders would call Black-Eyed Susans. They grow in profusion, all tangly and cheerful in the windy sunshine.
The wind is obviously a different entity out here than we are used to back east. Before bridges there are wind warning signs, followed by large wind socks, happily not completely inflated. I saw my first wind turbine up close and personal in IL yesterday. Wow, are those things HUGE! I'd written a website on wind power, so I knew the dimensions (90 ft tall, e.g.), but it's very different actually being right under one. Today I drove through several wind farms. I thought I would hate the sight of the turbines, but actually they look very appealing - silent, graceful, gleaming white sentries stationed across the horizon.
Although I started seeing cows in IL, in NE I've seen many more, and a few horses, all free range, scattered about in the fields. I also saw a huge kettle of hawks - maybe 20 or 30 - circling and swooping over a group of fields. My animals have been more noticeable, too: for the first time since we left home, the Tweets actually tweeted part of the way today (maybe that's why they're so tired).
And because I forgot to show you early on, here's what we look like going down the road...
Tomorrow we land in Boulder - hooray! Can't wait to see everyone, to get settled in and to eat a meal that isn't 95% salt. Stay tuned for that report, and, if you're interested, the continuing saga of a middle-aged career changer getting in the academic ring with the twenty-somethings. My first challenge: what to WEAR? Arrrgggggghhhhhhhh
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| View from my hotel window. What is it with these gas stations? Kum & Go, Pump & |
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| Marley (left) and Pink are tuckered out, too. |
Just outside Omaha, we passed (on the left) Rascal Flatts' tour trailer.
Last night watched a Jon Stewart piece showing the screaming heads calling Warren Buffett a socialist (and worse) for suggesting that the super rich should be taxed more. Wanted to stop in and tell him how much I agree with his taxing sentiments.
But Omaha doesn't offer the traveler a friendly welcome. Entering the city, we were greeted by a ... sculpture is really too generous a term ... monstrosity framing a bridge over the highway. It looks like Godzilla threw up a giant erector set at either end. All pointy and violent and fierce. Not, IMHO, aesthetically pleasing at all.
In contrast, I-80 was framed much of the way by wild yellow daisies, what us Marylanders would call Black-Eyed Susans. They grow in profusion, all tangly and cheerful in the windy sunshine.
The wind is obviously a different entity out here than we are used to back east. Before bridges there are wind warning signs, followed by large wind socks, happily not completely inflated. I saw my first wind turbine up close and personal in IL yesterday. Wow, are those things HUGE! I'd written a website on wind power, so I knew the dimensions (90 ft tall, e.g.), but it's very different actually being right under one. Today I drove through several wind farms. I thought I would hate the sight of the turbines, but actually they look very appealing - silent, graceful, gleaming white sentries stationed across the horizon.
Although I started seeing cows in IL, in NE I've seen many more, and a few horses, all free range, scattered about in the fields. I also saw a huge kettle of hawks - maybe 20 or 30 - circling and swooping over a group of fields. My animals have been more noticeable, too: for the first time since we left home, the Tweets actually tweeted part of the way today (maybe that's why they're so tired).
And because I forgot to show you early on, here's what we look like going down the road...
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| Packing out of the Super 8. |
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| The Tweets have their own seat right behind mine. |
Monday, September 5, 2011
Westward Ho! - Day 4
Hailing you from Clive, IA, where the Tweets and I are ensconced at the Super 8 with a little over 600 miles to go. Today traversed western IN, the width of IL and eastern IA. Weather was cool and fall-like this morning against a middle-of-the-country blue sky. As we headed west, the sky stretched further and further to the edges and filled up with cotton batting clouds. Only a sprinkle soon after we set out, so the bugs didn't get washed off the windshield.
In all the states from New England west, signs warn that fines are doubled in work areas. In IL, they're really serious about it: just ahead of construction zones, large signs warn that hitting a road worker will cost $10K and 14 years in jail. Also big reminders that the blood alcohol limit is .08.
At first I thought they must have a bunch a reckless drunks mowing down construction workers, but then I realized that the ENTIRE STATE is under construction, so if you were to hit anyone anywhere in Illinois, it likely would be a road worker. Almost the entire length of I-80 (~180 miles) is under construction.
Gas prices have evolved as we've moved west. In New Hampshire, regular unleaded was running about $3.52/gal. Today I paid $3.78 in IL. Here in Clive, I found it for just $3.55, but I suspect the price will be going up again as I head towards CO; it's always more expensive there than in NH.
I've also noted that there's been no fast food along the way. I don't mean there haven't been fast food establishments, just that at none of them has the food been fast. (Of course the "food" isn't food either, so it's a double oxymoron.) The shortest wait I've had was about 4 minutes; the longest about 15. For a salad. Unbelievable. If jobs are so hard to find, why aren't these people 1) happy they have jobs and 2) working at them? I've never seen such sullen, unmotivated employees. Are the corporate bosses too busy counting their money to be concerned with performance at the individual outlet level?
And while I'm on a rant, I can't help wondering whether mid-westerners have a greater or lesser appreciation of sexual innuendo than the rest of us: a gas station chain named Kum and Go - really? Have to say, though, I was delighted to find their windshield squeegees basking in a bubbly froth of insect remover. I hit a bug the size of a bird that exploded all over the front of the car. (From the looks of the remnants, it was a huge grasshopper.) New Hampshire definitely doesn't have the market cornered on insects.
Looking forward to miles and miles of the Cornhusker state tomorrow...
In all the states from New England west, signs warn that fines are doubled in work areas. In IL, they're really serious about it: just ahead of construction zones, large signs warn that hitting a road worker will cost $10K and 14 years in jail. Also big reminders that the blood alcohol limit is .08.
At first I thought they must have a bunch a reckless drunks mowing down construction workers, but then I realized that the ENTIRE STATE is under construction, so if you were to hit anyone anywhere in Illinois, it likely would be a road worker. Almost the entire length of I-80 (~180 miles) is under construction.
Gas prices have evolved as we've moved west. In New Hampshire, regular unleaded was running about $3.52/gal. Today I paid $3.78 in IL. Here in Clive, I found it for just $3.55, but I suspect the price will be going up again as I head towards CO; it's always more expensive there than in NH.
I've also noted that there's been no fast food along the way. I don't mean there haven't been fast food establishments, just that at none of them has the food been fast. (Of course the "food" isn't food either, so it's a double oxymoron.) The shortest wait I've had was about 4 minutes; the longest about 15. For a salad. Unbelievable. If jobs are so hard to find, why aren't these people 1) happy they have jobs and 2) working at them? I've never seen such sullen, unmotivated employees. Are the corporate bosses too busy counting their money to be concerned with performance at the individual outlet level?
And while I'm on a rant, I can't help wondering whether mid-westerners have a greater or lesser appreciation of sexual innuendo than the rest of us: a gas station chain named Kum and Go - really? Have to say, though, I was delighted to find their windshield squeegees basking in a bubbly froth of insect remover. I hit a bug the size of a bird that exploded all over the front of the car. (From the looks of the remnants, it was a huge grasshopper.) New Hampshire definitely doesn't have the market cornered on insects.
Looking forward to miles and miles of the Cornhusker state tomorrow...
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Westward Ho! - Day 3
Hello from Mishawaka, Indiana, home of Bethel Christian College and neighbor of Notre Dame and the College Football Hall of Fame. As you can imagine, I can't wait to get to the HoF to find out which quarterback got the most home runs.
Today began inauspiciously with a downpour. The weather cleared by the time we set out, but we drove in and out of storms all day as we traversed western NY, northwestern PA, the width of OH and eastern IN. Luckily traffic was light and the many miles of road construction was paused for the weekend, so I was able to drive for about 7 hours and am now HALFWAY - only 1,000 miles to go!
BTW, what did we do before smart phones? I'm using mine for navigation, finding hotels (through Trip Advisor), booking hotels (through Expedia), checking email, playing music, listening to This American Life episodes, streaming public radio, checking weather and news, calculating trip costs, locating places to eat - and, on that rare occasion, phoning. It is remarkable that, not only can these devices do all this, but they can do most of it simultaneously. We've come a long way from the PDP 11 I started on back in the Iron Age...
Items of note today: A beautiful heron flew right over the car (is it coincidence that my destination is Blue Heron development?). EZ pass has worked in all these states, including in IN, where they call it Zoom. Outside Port Clinton, OH, we passed a sign for the Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential Center (RBH was my great, great, great grandmother's uncle - do I have that right, Sal?). OH is very flat, but also very green. IN is more wavy and very green, but the trees now are all deciduous; I miss the evergreens.
Watching the greenery go by I was feeling enormous gratitude for all of you who threw your backs into (and out because of) my departure - thank you! Without the beyond-heroic efforts of Peggy, Nadine, Gabriele, Christine, Cindy and Jean (and many, many others who lent moral support), I would still be in Stratham, curled up in a ball among the pots and pans on my kitchen floor. I hope all of you will take me up on my offer to come visit - I promise not to ask your help unpacking!
My target for tomorrow is Des Moines. If you're hanging around with nothing else to do tomorrow afternoon, give me a call and I'll let you know in which direction the holiday traffic flows here in the middle. Most anticipated thing about tomorrow: new time zone - hooray, I gain an hour!
The Tweets are exhausted tonight, after a long day of bumpy concrete road segments, followed by a carnival ride-like entrance into the hotel. Although I booked thinking this was a pet-friendly hotel, a large sign at the desk announced NO PETS. I begged the college student desk clerk to let us in, promising they wouldn't gnaw the furniture, bark loudly, or pee in the corners. He relented, but said I'd have to confess to sneaking them in if anyone complained.
I had to wheel the bird cage right through the lobby on an unsteerable luggage cart, which so terrified them that they peeped the whole time. Luckily the boss must not be in residence, because we eventually made it to our room without being held to account for either the pet noise or the dented walls left in our wake.
In closing and in honor of Labor Day, I thought I'd mention that I've seen a much higher percentage of American cars out here than I see in New England. A notable exception was a Toyota SUV with the license plate NO MOR GM.
May your holiday be safe, happy and labor-free!
Today began inauspiciously with a downpour. The weather cleared by the time we set out, but we drove in and out of storms all day as we traversed western NY, northwestern PA, the width of OH and eastern IN. Luckily traffic was light and the many miles of road construction was paused for the weekend, so I was able to drive for about 7 hours and am now HALFWAY - only 1,000 miles to go!
BTW, what did we do before smart phones? I'm using mine for navigation, finding hotels (through Trip Advisor), booking hotels (through Expedia), checking email, playing music, listening to This American Life episodes, streaming public radio, checking weather and news, calculating trip costs, locating places to eat - and, on that rare occasion, phoning. It is remarkable that, not only can these devices do all this, but they can do most of it simultaneously. We've come a long way from the PDP 11 I started on back in the Iron Age...
Items of note today: A beautiful heron flew right over the car (is it coincidence that my destination is Blue Heron development?). EZ pass has worked in all these states, including in IN, where they call it Zoom. Outside Port Clinton, OH, we passed a sign for the Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential Center (RBH was my great, great, great grandmother's uncle - do I have that right, Sal?). OH is very flat, but also very green. IN is more wavy and very green, but the trees now are all deciduous; I miss the evergreens.
Watching the greenery go by I was feeling enormous gratitude for all of you who threw your backs into (and out because of) my departure - thank you! Without the beyond-heroic efforts of Peggy, Nadine, Gabriele, Christine, Cindy and Jean (and many, many others who lent moral support), I would still be in Stratham, curled up in a ball among the pots and pans on my kitchen floor. I hope all of you will take me up on my offer to come visit - I promise not to ask your help unpacking!
My target for tomorrow is Des Moines. If you're hanging around with nothing else to do tomorrow afternoon, give me a call and I'll let you know in which direction the holiday traffic flows here in the middle. Most anticipated thing about tomorrow: new time zone - hooray, I gain an hour!
The Tweets are exhausted tonight, after a long day of bumpy concrete road segments, followed by a carnival ride-like entrance into the hotel. Although I booked thinking this was a pet-friendly hotel, a large sign at the desk announced NO PETS. I begged the college student desk clerk to let us in, promising they wouldn't gnaw the furniture, bark loudly, or pee in the corners. He relented, but said I'd have to confess to sneaking them in if anyone complained.
I had to wheel the bird cage right through the lobby on an unsteerable luggage cart, which so terrified them that they peeped the whole time. Luckily the boss must not be in residence, because we eventually made it to our room without being held to account for either the pet noise or the dented walls left in our wake.
In closing and in honor of Labor Day, I thought I'd mention that I've seen a much higher percentage of American cars out here than I see in New England. A notable exception was a Toyota SUV with the license plate NO MOR GM.
May your holiday be safe, happy and labor-free!
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Westward Ho! - Evening, Day 2
Greetings from where-the-hell-am-I, New York! I have no idea why I thought I'd be able to find a hotel room (let alone a clean, "pet-friendly," affordable one) just outside Niagra Falls on Labor Day weekend. So $229 seemed ridiculous for a room at the Comfort Inn in Cheektowaga, until I couldn't find another one anywhere, including at the lowest rated joints.
(BTW, after the Econo Lodge housecleaning staff stopped hollering this morning, I heard a huge ruckus outside my door. When I looked out, a dozen or more guys were moving furniture in and out of rooms. Turns out that the local college commandeers an entire floor of the hotel for overflow housing during the first few weeks of washout and they have to replace all of the hotel furniture with theirs. Nice to have known that beforehand - NOT. So much for a relaxing morning.)
The day was hot (90s) and hazy. Loved the drive through New York - beautiful rolling farmland so chartreuse that you'd think it was spring. Baby corn in the fields, big red barns with twin towering silos, hawks circling. The Tweets and I tooling along happily, taking a few stops to stretch and pee and eat.
I was reminded of driving to Oneida (my father's family home) as a kid. Always thrived on that scenery, although I recall seeing many more farms, in better shape, and lots of animals - cows, particularly.
Was headed to Buffalo when I saw a sign for Niagra Falls and decided I had to stop, since I'd never been. Ran down to the falls and shot a few pix, but couldn't stay long because the Tweets would roast (when I have to leave them in the car, I leave it running to keep them cool, but it stops after 15 minutes or so).
Speaking of the Tweets, they're not exactly thrilled with this adventure. Poor things are still a little freaked out in the car. And when we finally land for the night and I put all their swinging (and therefore potentially lethal) toys and perches back in their cage, they still look around with plate-sized eyes at the surroundings. This isn't home! But they do eventually settle in and dive into their food (see below).
You'll also notice that we don't travel light. They, of course, need all their stuff. And I need mine, including tea kettle, tea thermos, cereal, soy milk (in cooler), yoga mat, camera, electronics and chargers, etc. So by the fourth trip up the stairs (both days), I've done my workout for the day.
It's so nice hearing from you! Thanks for reading... <3 <3 <3
(BTW, after the Econo Lodge housecleaning staff stopped hollering this morning, I heard a huge ruckus outside my door. When I looked out, a dozen or more guys were moving furniture in and out of rooms. Turns out that the local college commandeers an entire floor of the hotel for overflow housing during the first few weeks of washout and they have to replace all of the hotel furniture with theirs. Nice to have known that beforehand - NOT. So much for a relaxing morning.)
The day was hot (90s) and hazy. Loved the drive through New York - beautiful rolling farmland so chartreuse that you'd think it was spring. Baby corn in the fields, big red barns with twin towering silos, hawks circling. The Tweets and I tooling along happily, taking a few stops to stretch and pee and eat.
Was headed to Buffalo when I saw a sign for Niagra Falls and decided I had to stop, since I'd never been. Ran down to the falls and shot a few pix, but couldn't stay long because the Tweets would roast (when I have to leave them in the car, I leave it running to keep them cool, but it stops after 15 minutes or so).Speaking of the Tweets, they're not exactly thrilled with this adventure. Poor things are still a little freaked out in the car. And when we finally land for the night and I put all their swinging (and therefore potentially lethal) toys and perches back in their cage, they still look around with plate-sized eyes at the surroundings. This isn't home! But they do eventually settle in and dive into their food (see below).
You'll also notice that we don't travel light. They, of course, need all their stuff. And I need mine, including tea kettle, tea thermos, cereal, soy milk (in cooler), yoga mat, camera, electronics and chargers, etc. So by the fourth trip up the stairs (both days), I've done my workout for the day.
It's so nice hearing from you! Thanks for reading... <3 <3 <3
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| Tweets don't eat much in the car, so they have to make up for it when we land. |
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| Travelin' light doesn't exactly apply to us. |
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