Lifeline The value of the written word
I
I arrived at Deuel Vocational Institute (DVI) in Tarcy, California. Staring up at those five tiers let me know I’d finally made it to the “Big House.” I had to climb those stairs to an empty cell on the fifth tier all by myself. I sat on the bed next to my bedroll, a wool blanket, a sheet, a towel, my hygiene kit — which included one razor, a small bar of soap, and some toothpowder, and five “non-sufficient funds” (NSF) metered envelopes — all inside a pillowcase with no pillow. This was everything I had in the world. I wondered how I was going to survive. Then it was mail call. I could hear the officer walking down the tier: The sound of his jangling keys as his harsh voice called out names made my heart beat faster as he drew ever closer. “Coles!” the officer barked at the door. I excitedly said my last two numbers of my CDCR number so the officer could match it to my last name. Mom sent me a Garfield card that said: “I know things are tough right now, but just remember…every flower that ever bloomed had to go through a whole lot of dirt to get there!” I was so excited! Mom didn’t forget me! I took the card to mean, “Cheer up! It looks bad now but it’ll get greater later.” The warmth of her words made me want to respond quickly. I cast about for something, anything, to write her back. I found a lunch bag and 8
remember when
WALL CITY
SPRING 2023
a red wax pencil. I wrote some careful words of love to Mom on the paper bag, stuffed it into one of my NSF envelopes, and dropped it in the mailbox with a prayer on my way to chow that evening. A week later, I received a $250 money order with a note from Mom saying, “I know they ain’t got my baby writing on paper bags!” Whoever said “absence makes the heart grow fonder” clearly has had to miss someone over a period of days or weeks due to a brief holiday or vacation. What do you say of someone who has been gone for years? Decades? I believe this is where the phrase “out of sight, out of mind” comes from, where not seeing someone for too long can lead to that someone being forgotten. This is especially true in prison. There are only three legal ways to maintain contact with loved ones: visiting, collect calls and letters. I had my first in-person visit in 2021; I have been incarcerated since 2006. Collect calls are a maze fraught with disrespectful callers, changing schedules, and winding lines. Illegal means, such as using cell phones, have caused me no end of trouble, including a five-year denial at the parole Board in September 2021. My only recourse is snail mail. In prison, snail mail is dismally slow. Keeping contact via letters is all rules, regulations and delays. Letters arrive three to eight or more days after they
reach the prison. In some cases, weeks or months of delays means mail can arrive after any information inside is relevant. Sometimes we get return-to-sender letters, mail notifications of unacceptable parcels, rerouted mail, and packets in need of more postage that take a month or more to return, disrupting conversations needed so incarcerated people and their loved ones are never out of sight out of mind. Contact with my loved ones is vital to my rehabilitation. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing let-
sharing stories ■ inspiring change
Courtesy Mesro Coles-El
By Mesro Coles-El
