Day and Night - Duwamish Proverb

 

A Comment on Our Prison and Law

8^th December 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

The other day one of the supervisors came down and shot the breeze with me and we got on the topic of prison time. It just so happens that there is a crippled man in our area known for assault with a knife. He was last sentenced to three years, but was let out in three days.

   

It was George Remero who wrote “when there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.” Well when the prisons are full dangerous folk will walk the streets.

   

Here in the state of California we have “the three strikes and you’re out” law. Yes, like many states in the union, we pattern our laws after baseball. Due to this law people have gone to jail for twenty five years for stealing a hand full of cookies. No joke, a hand full of cookies and twenty five years.

   

In the grand scheme of things it cost the state more for every hour that man would be in prison than the whole of his theft is worth. I do believe it is the goal of our system of justice to let the punishment fit the crime. I think in that regard we have failed.

   

Then the question must be asked if we call the prison system the Department of Corrections then should not a person be corrected by their third felony? Have we not failed this unfortunate folk who it has become our responsibility to correct? Perhaps we punish the taxpayers who flip the bill for their imprisonment.

   

I know not what would be the best way to correct the damaged minds that fall into the traps of concrete and bars, but I do know that we can do better.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Remembering Mother

20^th December 2011

Dear Cassi,

A picture of my mother as she
 would want to be remembered. 

Today I lit a candle in memory of my mother’s death. I observe the anniversary by the lunar calendar so the date changes every year, but the feeling is the same. I spent much of my day baking corn bread for a  mental health group, and I know that my mother would have thought that a fitting tribute. If there is one thing she loved it was to bake and share her baking with the world.

       

I would think it wrong to dwell like this, but I’ll give myself a few moments. The sun has set and the waxing darkness fits my mood as I sit in the dim light. This is a time for celebration for most, but the air is cold and there is no light labor for a winter.

       

In this a modern time there is no true season to that strange human animal and we spend our time wondering if retirement will come before our bodies give out. They say youth is wasted on the young, but who does the wasting? I spend my youth in hard labors and will spend my middle age there with little but the dirt on my hands and the perspiration on my cheeks to show for my works.

       

It is winter for us, Cassi, and the year is born in that winter. So let us hope that spring is all the things they speak of in its warm blossoms. How I would love to fall on to the warm grass and sit sleeping in the sun for a time. I feel as if my body is made of bedrock and carrying that stone has grown so hard.

       

The will to move on is all I have left to me in this dark place, but it burns like the fires of a great boiler driving me on against the hard currents. One day I will find what I journey for in this cold world. One day I will see the warmth that I once knew blossom again and grow.

       

Often folk look back and see better times. “The good old days” are things that live in camp stories. If things were always so much better in the past then why do we live for change? I know that things look better as you leave them, that the world of the past looks better than you know, but my honest finding is the future is the only place I have to go.

Stay safe, Cassi.

Richard Leland Neal

Mom’s Cooking

2^nd December 2011

Dear Cassi, 

   

When I look back at the somber tones of my life I do recall some of the better points. My mother’s cookies for one and how she would make batches for my classes at school.

We would make pumpkin cookies every year for Halloween and decorate them like jack-o’-lanterns. We would get candy coated chocolates for eyes and noses, use frosting for hair, and make them into our favorite cartoon characters.  

Valentines’ day, Christmas, and Saint Patrick’s Day were all days that we gave the cookie treatment. Sharing things was something my mother did probably because she lived in such scarcity when she was young.  

In more modern times I hold to this tradition, but my mother was not always a good cook. I do recall she made the worst meatloaf I had ever tasted at the time. It would only be beaten some twenty years later by my sister’s.  

My mother would bake this soggy mass of unmixed parts, and scream that Abraham Lincoln ate it once a week for most of his life. Or was it twice? I can’t remember.

When the Cancer took hold and my mother became too frail to cook on her own she looked to us, her children, to help her make our meals. It’s funny, I have no recollection of my mother making me lunch for school. Buying it for me and having me take it, yes, but she taught me to make my own before I ever set foot in a public class room. My mother had her problems, but she was only human, and so do we all.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Pen Friend

I do believe that “Pen Pall” was changed to “Pen Friend” at some point for legal reasons. It is impossible for me to remember if I ever sent letters to this person for real or if I simply wrote them.                                

I think the most telling statement in this letter is that I had to except verbal abuse to get help with my work. A family should be supportive but mine never did lend me so rare an article.

13^th April 1995

Dear Lydia,

                    

Do you mind if I call you Lydia? My name is Richard Leland Neal, you’re so called pen friend, but I haven't been too friendly, have I? I have been kind of busy in this or that, but I will send you letters. This is my second letter but the 1st was not up to my standards.

                  

The delay on this letter will be lengthened by the process of correcting it, which will probably involve my English teacher depending on his will, or my ever useless sister who will simply scream at me about my mistakes. I would prefer my English teacher.   He will do a better job but he has better things to do then correct my private letters. I have poor spelling and punctuation skills you see, and it is an awful chore.

                    

I am at this moment sitting in front of the (WHITE MONSTER) my computer. It is the best friend I ever had despite the trouble it gives me. That's life in California.

                      

Moving on would you be so kind as to tell me about yourself, it  will help me to send longer letters to you especially if you out do me in volume. I have never been much for writing, but I have confidence that will change.

                                                                                          

Sincerely

                                                                                          

                                                                                        

Leland Neal

Elmer’s Time Machine

7^th December 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

Today as I was sifting through the piles of now dirty clothes waiting for my new washer to come I recalled the old black coat I used the first time I preformed in a play. That’s how memories work in my head mind you. It must have been all the black shirts and pants.

   

I believe the coat in question originally belonged to my brother and was purchased for him when he was twelve. It fit big on my eight year old frame at the time. I was playing Alfred Nobel the man who invented dynamite and started the Nobel Peace Prize.

   

The coat probably was nothing like the ones he wore save for the color. Not to say that they gave me much of Noble’s appearance. From what I can see he had a thick black beard.

   

The play was called “Elmer’s Time Machine” and it was about a little boy who went through time running into great people. I think I had two lines, but it still brings a smile to my face.

   

We had some thing with baking soda that was supposed to be an explosion because Elmer had found the exact moment Nobel had first gotten an explosion out of his experiment. I only figured that out some years later because the explosion was so pathetic. Then it was a crowd of parents watching their children an easy audience.

   

When all is said and done there were some good moments back then. I wouldn’t go back to that time in my life for anything, but it wasn’t all bad.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal

Forgotten Character

I remember writing this poem back in high school or perhaps back even further. It references, ‘Claw’, a character from my first novel idea.

In psychology the loss of the hand in dreams is symbolic for the inability to change ones state of being, the feeling of helplessness, or the loss of hope. Having written a character with missing hands replaced by mettle claws was very telling of my mental state.

9^th May 1995

Claws

by  R.L. Neal

It’s like a cold prison in a world of light

Like a burning breath in a frozen night

All I want is to be free

From the faults in my personality

In a world of my design

Everything will have its time

And when attacked it seldom flaws

But reeks revenge with fiery claws

But when imbrased in friendship flight

Will laugh and dance throughout the night

Washer of the Future

11^th December 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

My new washer and dryer have a nasty habit of beeping like robots. I have never before had so much cause to say “it’s the newfangled kind with all the bells and whistles.”

   

Come to think of it I have never before thought of what newfangled means. Apparently, the word comes from fangelen, coming from middle English, and meaning ‘inclined to take,’ as ‘I’m fangelen for a cola with my lunch.’ When the saying came about to fangle was something you started or recently procured. Like, “my new fangle is fencing” or “Bob has a new fangle, he collects hats.”

   

Now ‘fangle’ means novelty, whim, or ornament, and it generally holds derogatory tone. Words tend to change over time but fangle is no longer accepted by my spellchecker. Fangled and newfangled are still in there but the root word is not.

   

In any case, I found the new washer and dryer to be rather fangled with lights and chimes that scare the dog out of the garage. They say that these new machines are much better for the environment, but all those lights just look like a bad idea. I mean, next they will be getting ring tones for washers and dryers so you can dance when your clothes are clean.

   

Another bit I would rather not have is the locking washer door. It locks when the washer is on so children stay out of the things I think, but what if it gets stuck or the power goes out? Then you would have to break the machine open to get your things out again.  

   

The only real tradition is change, but the trend to make things more computerized, flashy, or just plain complicated are changes I can live without.

The future is like the past only newer,

Richard Leland Neal

What to Do?

22^nd December 2012

Dear Cassi,

       

A man called me today wanting help with his twenty year old daughter. This is not to say that he called me but rather that he called my shelter hoping to find a way to impress upon his child the life of less fortunate folks. He did not tell me what sin she had committed that lead him to this idea, but I could tell he was at his whit’s end full of anger and frustration.

       

“This behavior needs to stop,” He said over and over. As a payment for this tour of the underworld he said he would buy groceries for the program. Mind that I start my shift at eleven in the evening and so this was the middle of the night. Normally, and by normally I mean during the day, I would refer this man to the donation department but the middle of the night is an inconvenient time for them.

       

I explained to this man that we can accommodate his need, but that he would need to call back during the AM hours. I told him what kind of program we run and what we do for the homeless. I further put forth that there were much poorer programs with less amenities, privacy, and lower quality food.

He then asked what he should do, and I was stunned by the request but made to answer him as best I could. I explained to this concerned father that he needed to take a stance of mutual respect because people you show no respect to will never properly respect you. He should make it clear that what he wants is not good because he wants it but because he honestly believes it is good for his child.

I told him he should be open to what she says and understanding. Further, I said that he should not expect her to change overnight but only to do better. Without knowing what she did I could only say so much.

In this world things are hard a family mending is tricky. I know this better than most as I have as little to do with my own family as possible. Sometimes we need to be strong and face the ugly truth. I know I did and it was the first real step to a better life.

Stay safe, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Furry Lullabies

15^th December 2012

Dear Cassi,

       

Almost the whole of my day was consumed by sleep and here it is I have work tonight. When I finally got out of bed Hide and Caramel crawled into my arms and made clear that they needed some companionship. These two of my four kittens are the more affectionate fur balls.

       

Hide with is pink nose and black and white pelt is one to rub against my face. He nibbles at my lips if left to roam around my physique and often finds a place so sit and purr on my shoulder. I often feel the wet touch of his nose when I sleep as he purrs for me a lullaby.

       

Hide and Caramel also have a love for jumping into my arms through use of my pant leg as a ladder. This action leaves a line of red marks on my legs that itch. I have never look after cats so small as this and it is a new experience but they are happy to be off the street and safe in my arms.

May your lullabies be as sweet as mine,

Richard Leland Neal

Paper and Poop

14^th December 2012

Dear Cassi,

       

Today I donned gloves and took to tossing out the cat’s mess. The little things had pooped on some things I can never replace, but then if those things meant anything to me why were they on the floor?

       

Nothing helps a fellow to let go of the past more than cat poop. The first yearbook I ever owned from grade school was pooped on and in the trash it went. Paper and poop do poorly to gather, I’ll grant that even poop had a hard time standing up to pee. More than one thing has been trashed as it has been peed on.

       

I love my little kittles and would spend all the day with them if I could but cleaning up after them is work for healthy folk and my depression has simply got to go. The dark looming issues that stand over me are so strong in nature that they are like chains.

Here’s do being a good pet daddy,

Richard Leland Neal

Fish Mouths and Vacuum Bags

27^th November 2012

Dear Cassi,

       

I spent what little free time I had today clearing out my bedroom. For the last few months it has been nothing but a room to store my bed and other piles of junk. Now the detritus is home to fish moths.

       

The little silver wingless insects are all around the dust and decay that is their food and I can only scrape at the trash that has become so much a home for them. It took hours to make ready for the vacuum as the broom had much work to do, but when the time came my vacuum did nothing.

       

The old dirt devil’s engine fired but the brush was still as death and the belt that turned it had now long snapped. This is the world of depression, little sister, to find that all things had sat so long they no longer work. The last time I went to use this vacuum the bag had been eaten to shreds by insects.

       

The bags I had in the closet to replace this had been eaten, holed, and covered in dust. To add insult to injury grocery stores in my area no longer carried vacuum bags. It took more than a week to get the vacuum running that time and by then depression had made me useless. 

       

How can a simple thing be so large an issue? When the energy of the body is little and the hours few every action is a trial. If I could clean six hours a day for a month without interruption I would have my home passable. Still, every time I start I run into delays.

Stay on top of things, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Our Back

12^th November 2012

Dear Cassi,

       

So I saw the back doctor today and found that once again I am extremely healthy for being a sack of lard. Apparently most people come to the doctor when they are in so bad shape there is nothing that can be done for them and I came to the doctor when the problem was just a nuisance.

       

My overall point being that the pain was not chronic but simply recurring and so it surprised folks that I was not in pain when entering the doctor’s office. It further complicated things that the doctor himself had some major back issues and had trouble sitting still for our interview.

       

In the end I thanked my luck that I was better off than him. He sent me home with some pamphlets and recommendations, but the largest change was a new perspective. I’m not all that bad off when compared to that fellow.

Live strong, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Cheap Cold

8^th November 2012

Dear Cassi,

       

Out where I live cold is almost a joke, and the word freezing is applied to temperatures well above water turning to ice. Still, I had to wash the kittens who had rolled in their breakfast and were all a bit brown with gravy. Feeling a chill on my own skin I turned the heater on to seventy and forgot about it as it had to do so little work to keep the house at this temperature.

       

Pickles had left the house as soon as the cooler temperatures started and so was not home when I turned the heater on. When he came home he told me that the inspector had advised us not to use the heater until the ducting in the attic was fixed. The kick in the teeth here is that one, he broke the ducts, two, he refused to get the heater fixed because he pays the gas bill, and three, we have used the heater for more than ten years with broken ducting.

       

This I can place as another of his attempts to be cheap. Cheap at the cost of others has always been the Pickles way of living and here we are again. Well, I’ll run the heater anyway and he can get the ducts fixed if it means that much to him.

Never let them grind you down, little sister

Richard Leland Neal