th3ZETM2GT The prison life was toth4QLSD6BWlerable when I learned to change the way I looked at things.  For example, instead of referring to the bleachers as bleachers, I referred to the bleachers as “the beach”.  It was a hot place to sit and a good place to stretch your legs and receive some sunshine.

In late June, Daisy and I were at “the beach” observing and basically minding our own business.  A lady in her 40’s walks by and is crying.  She had been sentenced for 3 years and had only been incarcerated for 3 months.  She needed someone to talk to—Daisy and I were compassionate and told her to find good people (in prison), good felons to be around.  Daisy and I felt we were the two best!

A lady in her 50’s walks over to say “thank-you” to me for being so kind to her during visiting on Saturday.  After all the visitors left, we had to sit for about 90 minutes waiting to be released to return to perspective places.  We become professional at sitting and waiting…ugh.

Then another lady in her 40’s came over to tell me she had put me in her “God jar” and was praying for me.  I was touched, but told her I felt great and if she would remove me from the jar and put Daisy in there, it would serve a better purpose!  LOL

The last lady walks by us…and Daisy mentions her offense, something about selling cemetery lots over and over, similar to how the half-way house rents the same beds over and over….I guess once released, one can feel half-way dead!

It was another interesting day in prison, Daisy now calls “the beach”, Mount of Olives.

As we were packing up, I notice a lady drinking coconut water and asked to look at the bottle, …”exotic flavor that sends your tongue on a tropical taste-cation”.  I have to ask…”is this a good drink for prisoners???”…. 

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