Honor Among Thieves?

Here is another story from my son. He wrote about it in a letter when he was still in prison and I just never got around to posting it.
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I was eating lunch the other day with my friend in the prison cafeteria when another guy came and sat with us. This guy said he was going to start a class after the 1st of the year on how to invest. We listened and said we would like to take the class.

Then he asked about some details like if we ever owned houses. My friend said he still owned a house in the city.The guy told us how in his class he was going to teach people how to turn $10,000 into $1.2 million tax free in 7 years!

He told my friend that if he wanted to they could meet at the library Sunday and show him how he could take a mortgage out on his house and use the money to do this while he is in prison. My friend said he would meet him Sunday and talk about this.

We all left. My friend and I walked and talked for a while before going back to our housing units. We both said we were going to check this guy out because this sounds like a giant hustle!

I've got some people that check people out all the time so I went to them and asked about the guy. They knew him and told me "yes he ran a class on investing before. He went to the hole (solitary confinement) for stealing all his students' Social Security numbers so he could steal money with them. Also he was a Rat that told on everyone on his case."

The next day I saw my friend in the cafeteria again. He talked to his bunky. His bunky was one of the students the guy tried to scam out of his Social Security number. So we got a good laugh out of it and said we would figure out what to do about it later after we had a few ideas.

Well the next day I was with another friend and my bunky at the cafeteria. The tables have 4 stools each. All of a sudden the con artist comes and sits on the empty stool next to me.

I say Hi and then just sit and wait for my friend's unit to come in. They were the next unit.

In less than a minute my friend walks in. He goes through the line, gets his food, and my bunky gets up to let him sit down.

My friend asks me if I said anything. I said no but as you can see I've got my glasses on so I can see a con artist from a mile away and looked at the guy.

I told the guy we checked him out and we know... HE'S NO GOOD!!

I said I know he was trying to con my friend out of his money. I know he tried to steal other people's Social Security numbers in his classes before and went to the hole for it. And I know he told on everyone in his case. I told him that if he tries to con any of my friends again I was going to hurt him real bad.

Then with that out of the way I said I don't care if you hustle these rats like yourself or these cho-mo's (child molesters) but you need to learn what all good con men know... who you can hustle and who you can't.

With all that out of the way I said now that we are at an understanding I still want to take his class. It never hurts to learn a good hustle.

We got up and left him looking like he was going to cry.

My other friend said you could have at least let me know what was going on. I said sometimes you just have to go with the moment.

We all had a real good laugh.

Promises, Promises

It is that time of year again. People are deciding what resolutions to make for the new year.

Resolutions are supposed to be the promises we make to ourselves to try to enrich our lives. We mean to begin the improvements as the new year begins.

A New Years resolution can be as simple as promising to say "I love you" more often. It can be as difficult as swearing not to kill your spouse this year. There is a lot of room in between as well.

The problem with deciding to make this year the year you will stop smoking is that it could be a hard promise to keep. Most smokers have done so for a long time. Sometimes it takes a long time to quit. And as we all know if something is difficult we do not necessarily put in the effort needed to accomplish our goals.

Most New Years Resolutions are abandoned within a few days. We make them with good intentions but our flesh is weak. So we think maybe we will resume dieting next week when the holiday goodies are all gone and the temptation is less. Somehow next week never comes.

So with the above in mind and with personal experience I resolved many years ago to make no resolutions. It has worked quite well. I do not disappoint myself. I feel no sense of failure.

What I do is if I see a problem that needs fixing I try to fi it. This might happen in May or September. Deal with it when it happens. It seems to work better for me.

To those who do make resolutions I wish you the utmost luck. And I hope you are able to accomplish what you wish to do.

Hold Please

My son wanted a smart phone. Understandable. This is a technological age after all.

He waited anxiously for Black Friday sales. He knew what he wanted and knew it would be available and affordable that day.

When the day came he went to the site online. There was the phone he wanted. He placed the order. Almost.

There was a problem with the order.  He did not receive the email confirmation of the order as the web site said he would.

Did they notify him that there was a problem? Of course    not.

He found a contact number so he could call them. He asked them why he did not receive notification. Oh they could not fill the order because there was a mix-up on the order itself. They were "so sorry".

Could they help him make the necessary corrections so the order would go through? No. They were "so sorry".

What they could do is cancel the order so he could reorder. Unfortunately the charge for the original order would not be corrected for up to 5 business days. He reluctantly agreed.

My son went back online. He reordered the phone. I helped with some of it. Everything went as it should. He received his notification by email. Yay!

The phone would arrive the following Tuesday. It did. Yay!

After thoroughly reading all the paperwork that came with the phone my son went online to activate his new phone.  Things were progressing swimmingly.

Then he entered the zip code for our address. Error. He realized he was supposed to enter the zip code his old phone was registered to. He entered that. Error.

He called again to find out what was wrong. Gee golly. They were "so sorry" he was having a problem. They did not know what was wrong. Did he try typing in his zip code? Perhaps he should use the zip code of the store for his old carrier and see if that would work. Guess what. Error.

My son was getting frustrated. I said I would call the new company. I spoke to a very nice young man who was almost understandable. His accent was that of someone who had not been speaking English long.

He was "so sorry" we were having a problem. He would try to see if he could help. He spent a long time but no help was forthcoming. He transferred me to someone else.

Now we were getting somewhere. This young man was easier to understand. He was "so sorry" but he would see how he could help.

I was becoming extremely exasperated. When he hemmed and hawed about not being able to do anything I began asking questions. He tried to give technical nonsense answers that meant nothing. I kept asking questions.

Then he said to give it some time and it might clear itself up. I asked him if he was just saying that to get rid of me. He answered yes. I hung up.

After composing myself I called again. A nice woman answered. I could not understand her at all. It was not an accent problem. She talked so fast my ears could not keep up with her mouth. I asked her to slow down. She was "so sorry". She would see what she could do to solve the problem.

I repeatedly had to remind her to speak more slowly.but she worked to try to find a solution. After a long time she discovered that I had transposed two digits of the zip code from the original phone's address.

Could she alter the order to reflect the correct zip code? She did not have the authority to do that. Did she have a supervisor I could speak with? She did. Now we were getting somewhere.

A nice man greeted me on the phone. He was "so sorry" we were having a problem. He could not alter the order because the process of activation was so far along. Perhaps they could help at the store in the nearest town.

I drove 30 miles in a mix of rain and snow to the phone store. The man there was so nice and he exuded a confidence I had not felt from anyone on the phone.

He informed me that even though they sold the phones there some things that could not be done. He would do his best however.

He went into his computer and tried to change the zip code. He said that sometimes he could make the changes and sometimes not. He could not. It would have to be done at a corporate store.

Where is the corporate store? The nearest one is in Omaha, Nebraska!

He did suggest calling the carrier for the old phone to see if they could change the zip code for the original phone. That might work.

I drove 30 miles in a mix of rain and snow to go home. I picked up some fast food on the way. I was in no mood or condition to cook.

After we ate I calle dthe original carrier and asked if they could change the zip code. Of course I did not mention that I needed it so my son could drop them because he was trying to activate a phone with a new carrier.

They needed to speak with my son since the phone was in his name. No problem.

They told my son to wait about 20 minutes to make sure it was complete in the system. No problem.

In the meantime I called the new carrier. I asked to speak to the manager who said I should call back if anything changed. Once again I was on an interminable hold.

While I was on hold I began to type in the information leading up to the request for zip code information just to be ready when I did receive assistance.

I GOT A MESSAGE THAT SAID "CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ACTIVATED YOUR PHONE."

Did they even ask for the zip code? NO!


After approximately 6 HOURS his new phone is activated. I will not wait on hold for anybody for a while. I will hang up first.

Telephone Etiquette

Right now my time is being consumed by my son coming home. Please keep that in mind because I am so happy about it and a lot of my posts will probably be about him. As this one is.

I mentioned that he occasionally had 48 hour passes to come home. He had to sign out at a certain time and I would pick him up. Then he had to call to let them know when we arrive at home. There are to be no stops or visits in the process.

When it is time for him to leave he must call to let them know that he is leaving. Again no stops on the way. He must be back on time or he is violation of his terms and can be sent back to prison.

Also during the time he was here they made random calls to make sure he was actually here. The calls come any time of day or night. He recognizes the phone number so he answers the phone.

It is the way he answers that might interest you. I will not use his real name but I need a name so you will get the full picture. I chose Joe Blow.

The phone rings. My son picks it up and says, "Federal prisoner Joe Blow. How can I help you?"

"Joe Blow, Federal prisoner. What took you so long?"

"Federal prison vacation home, Joe Blow speaking."

"Hello? I want to report a prisoner running down the street in his underwear."

"Federal prisoner Joe Blow. I was beginning to think you forgot about me."

"Federal prisoners R Us. How can I help you?"

"Federal prisoner Joe Blow. You know I feel neglected when you don't call."

"Sorry I took so long to answer. I was down digging my escape tunnel."

I have no idea whether they think he is as cute as I do ( as he does). It seems as if they rather enjoy a sense of humor.

He was recently fitted with an ankle monitor. He is home and he will no longer be staying at the halfway house. They still make the random calls because it is the rules.  I do not understand why because the monitor will show them where he is.

He still has to go in for periodic reporting. But he is home.

A Visit Home

My son is still in the halfway house until the end of next month. Then he will come stay with us. I am so looking forward to him being here.

I have been picking him up and taking him to appointments. Some are medical. Others are to get his financial business up to date.

It is a hectic time for me. It is a 25 mile drive there and a 25 mile drive home after I drop him off. I am certainly not complaining because I am so happy to spend any time I can with him. But I am not young any more and I do get tired.

Last weekend he had a pass for each of the two days for eight hours each day. He was able to come home and get used to being here.

I see him starting to relax a bit more each time I see him. He does not constantly feel like he has to be on his guard. I hope to see the tension in him lessen and eventually disappear but that may be too much to ask.

So my son called this evening. They are giving him a pass for the entire weekend. He will be able to sleep in his bed and have some privacy. He will have his own TV if he does not like what we are watching.

He has no idea how much I have been waiting for him to be home. He still feels like a visitor. I was gratified the other day when he finally went to the refrigerator and helped himself to a bottle of water.

As I said he is relaxing a bit.

He Is Home!

Well almost home. My son is out of prison. He arrived a few days ago.

Another son and I met him at the bus station. He had traveled almost two days to get here so he was worn out.

He looks great but older. I know that his health is not as good as it should be but I am hoping that he will improve now.

He had called me the first morning of his trip to let me know that he was on his way. He was released a couple of days ahead of what we thought so I was surprised. He was too.

He asked me to call and notify everyone he cares about. I was on the phone for several hours because of course everyone had questions. Most of the answers I did not know.

He also had a request that I knew he would have. "Bring me something to eat!" He wanted fast food so a home cooked meal would have to wait.

So we met him at the bus. It was a wonderful reunion.

The only problem was that he had only half an hour to check in at the halfway house. We were able to catch up a little on the way but of course there was not enough time.

That is why he is only almost home. We have no idea how long he will have to stay there. He will be able to leave under certain circumstances for short periods of time after he is situated. I am waiting for that now.

He did call me that evening to let me know he was getting settled. It seems like a nice enough place. He was wondering if we could take him shopping for clothes as soon as they will let him go.

So I almost have my son back. It is not enough but it will do for now.

Coming Home

My son who is in prison has been granted his parole. He will be moved to a halfway house the end of the summer. Then he will be coming here.

Besides being frustrating at times the process is amazing. Long but an interesting study.

Months before an inmate is eligible for parole he requests in writing for a parole hearing. Once it is determined that all requirements have been met and all the paperwork is properly filled out a hearing is scheduled.

Most parole hearings are not like you see on TV or read about in the news. They are more like meetings of the parole board. Often the prisoner is not included.

The board decides whether the minimum amount of time is served according to the original sentence. They figure in "good" time meaning allowances for good behavior. Any fights or infractions of rules that are on the record are considered.

Family ties, where the parolee will live, and job prospects can figure into consideration. If the inmate was convicted of a crime of violence against another person (my son was not) statements from victims will be considered.

In the meantime the inmate has given the name and address of the person he will be living with until he can live on his own. That person is contacted by someone who is responsible for examining the home.

They need to check criminal backgrounds of each person residing there. The house is inspected. They want to see where the parolee will sleep, etc. They also need to make sure no weapons or contraband are on the premises.

If everything passes approval that is sent on to the parole board. The prisoner is notified about whether it has been approved so he can make other arrangements if necessary.

Once the parole board reaches its decision the prisoner is notified in writing. If he is to be paroled he is happy and excited. Then he sits and waits to be informed as to when.

My son was informed at the beginning of the year that his parole was approved. He waited several months to be told when he would finally be sent to the halfway house.

We still do not know how long he will have to stay at the halfway house. We also do not know how often he will have to report to a parole officer or any other details or restrictions he will have to follow.

He is busy getting paperwork together for the things he will need to take care of when he comes home. A drivers license will be important because he will need identification. So he will need proof of who he is and where he lives to get that. Others things will need to be taken care of when he gets here.

While we are awaiting his arrival we are making plans for all the things we want to show him. He did not grow up here because we lived elsewhere when the children were children.

I am trying hard not to be excited but it is hard. I really was beginning to believe they would not let him out until after I died.

Anyway I will finally get to see my son. And he will get to see his children. It will be good for all of us.

From The Cell

As you know my son is in prison. As a quick update his state charges no longer apply and his federal appeal is moving forward as expected.

He recently sent me a couple of letters that I found amusing. He said I could share them with you. As always no names will be used. If I need to change anything I will let you know that I changed it.

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They tried to move a child molester in my 3 man "cube". I told him he could stay the first night but had to find another place to stay the next morning!

Well the next morning I go to work. I come back at lunch time and all his stuff is still there!

So I take his blankets and sheets off his bed and put them on his locker.

I go back to work and come back at 3:00 PM. His stuff is still there!

So I push his locker out in the hall and put all his stuff in a couple of bags and put it on and beside his locker.

He waits until about 15 minutes before the 4:00 PM mandatory count and comes to the cube. I tell him he doesn't live here any more!!

He said he tried to get moved but they wouldn't move him. I said trying and doing are two different things!! Then I told him if he tried to come into the cube I was going to knock him out!!!

He left and went straight to the guards. Everyone was saying I'm crazy, they never saw anything like that before, and I'm going to the SHU "the hole". (Note from Emma: I believe SHU means Solitary Holding Unit)

I said I don't care, I'm ready to go to the SHU. I already packed all my stuff too.

I told everyone, "I will not live in the same cube as a baby raper lives!"

Well I was expecting to go to the SHU but at the end they just moved him and never even tried to talk to me.

*****

This is so funny. I just put my other letter to you in the mail bos but I had to send you this.

I told you how I got rid of the Child Molester. Well I was a little rougher than I told you in the letter.

Well the counselor  wasn't real happy with me. Everyone in the whole prison, even other housing units, were talking about what I did.

Well the child molester was a white guy and I made him admit what he was!

Well today I'm in the "white TV room" (everything is segregated "by choice" in federal prison) the other guy that shares my 3 man cube comes and tells me we are getting a new guy. He says he is a blck Muslim that has a pass for a bottom bunk so they are moving him to our cube.

Well I told everyone White, Black, Spanish, everyone that I WILL NOT LIVE WITH A CHILD MOLESTER! And I will check everyone's paperwork that lives in my cube!

In federal prison only whites can check white guys' paperwork, only blacks can check black guys' paperwork and so on.

Well this guy came and talked to my cube mate and when he found out I was the other guy in the room he wouldn't move in!

He told everyone that he was here on a gun charge but never let anyone see his paperwork!

Now all the black guys are telling him he has to get his paperwork!

He basically told on himself by not moving into my cube!
*****

From Emma: As you can see life in prison is still primitive in many ways. I find the segregation appalling as does my son. The prisoners tend to police themselves which means that you must be strong to survive. Of course the guards are there too but if I may be so irreverent as to compare it to a playground where children have to decide what behavior is acceptable parents only watch to see that violence is not tolerated. Guards simply are there to keep things from getting out of hand.

Here Kitty, Kitty

My children like animals. They usually have a dog or two as pets. My daughter goes overboard and will try to get any pet she sees.

When my two older boys were small and all the children I had we got them each a kitten. It gave each of them something to cuddle and learn to care for.

My second son was about two years old and my oldest was four. They loved their kittens and with help they took good care of them.

Then we went for a time without seeing the kitten that was the pet of my second son. Since we did not let them outside much I was bit worried about something beginning to smell if you know what I mean.

But I started hearing mews when I was in the kitchen or if I went down to the basement to do laundry. Thinking that the poor thing must be trapped in the walls somehow I began to search.

I tried to determine where the sound was the loudest to see if I could find a hole in the wall that might have been the entrance for that poor kitten. Listening carefully I determined that the basement was the place to look.

We had a freezer in the basement to store larger amounts of frozen goods. The sounds seemed louder near there so I looked behind the freezer for an opening in the wall.

It took a few seconds for me to realize that the sound was coming from the freezer itself. Maybe it was caught in the motor area. Nope

I opened the freezer door. That poor little kitten exploded out of the freezer. My son had wanted to have it where he could find it so he trapped it in the freezer. I can still picture him in my mind going "Here kitty, kitty" so he could grab it and store it in a "safe" place.

I grabbed a soft towel and wrapped it and held it to try to warm it. It was so cold. The tail was frozen solid. I thought it would probably die.

It huddled down inside the towel. It shivered and shook. Gradually it began to move around. Once it got warm it moved out of the towel and went to lay in the bedroom it called home.

Believe it or not the kitten made a full recovery. Its tail was a little limp but other than that it was fine.

I was glad because I was planning a surprise wedding shower for my soon-to-be sister-in-law. We had contacted her mother who gave us a list of people we should invite from their family and of course our family would be there. I had a lot to do to get my house ready.

My sister-in-law was totally shocked when she came in my door and saw everyone there. She truly had no idea. The best thing was when she looked up after being there several minutes and said, "That's my mother!" She was overwhelmed by the surprise.

After we nibbled on the snacks and my sister-in-law had opened all her gifts we just sat around talking. Her mother was very nice and we were getting to know her as she got to know us.


My son's kitten hopped up onto my sister-in-law's lap. As she absent-mindedly stroked the cat I regaled my guests of the story of the kitty in the freezer. It was a good laugh.

Suddenly my sister-in-law screamed. "The tail came off!"

She was sitting on the couch in horror holding the kitten's tail as the kitten jumped down and went to hide to get away from the chaos.

Obviously the tail had frozen and was damaged so badly that it died and fell off. It was just an inopportune time to do so. If you have read anything about my family you will know what comes next.

We all laughed uncontrollably. After I relieved her of the dead tail of course.

Looking back I wonder if the dead tail was an omen. The marriage did not endure. My brother never remarried and he died a few years ago. My sister-in-law did remarry a very nice man and is extremely happy. We no longer have the kitten of course. But I still have my son. (I keep him in the freezer so he will not get away.)

Gallows Humor

My son has some more stories to share. I put in a couple of notes to update and I changed or eliminated names. I certainly do not need a lawsuit! This may be the last from him for a while because he is busy with appeals. They are rapidly coming and they take a lot of his time. Things are looking good.

This story is about when the bank put $111,000 in my bank account by mistake. It was at the time that the cops put all 20 of my trucks in the impound and were saying they were all illegal. They knew they were all legal and bought from legitimate dealers but that's the excuse they used to keep them in the impound and not let me get them out. 

They said I had to wait until their inspector inspected them, I tried to get my own but they wouldn't let me. They were holding them for months so I couldn't make my payments. I had over $20,000 a month in payments. They held my trucks for 4 months until the banks came and got them! 

Anyway, I called the bank to check my account because I just put a check in for $1,110. They made a mistake and put 2 extra 0's behind it. I was a very bad book keeper so I thought the money was mine, so I took it out and spent it. 

I had a friend a few years before this that another bank put over $1,000,000 in his account. He had one semi and it was old and he didn't have any money. I told him to take that money out and use it, he would never see that kind of money. 

He was scared of going to jail and after a couple of weeks, told them about it. They sent him a thank you letter, they didn't even give him a coffee pot! 

Anyway when my deal finally got around to being found out by the bank (6 months later) they took me to civil court, it's not criminal! When we get there, there are a lot of big companies there for bankruptcy. The bank had 6 lawyers and everyone else there had a bunch of lawyers except me, I had one. 

We got called up first, the judge listened to both sides and asked the bank's lawyer to turn and face the court room and tell them where you're from. The lawyer asked why? 

The judge said everyone in here is here because they need money. I want them all to know where to go and get $111,000 for free, case dismissed. My lawyer grabbed me and said lets get out of here, we were gone, and done with them! 

I mentioned before about helping a guy with his sentencing. I learned from that and others I helped what to do in different court hearings. That's how I got years off my sentence at my sentencing. It wasn't luck, I studied and I was prepared. 

I had help along the way, in our county a couple of the corporals and the law clerk let me go into the law library every day and study case law. No one gets to do that. The most you get is 1 hour a week and you get rushed out at that. I would put the books back in order after the day was over and they let me stay all day and study. 

I learned from a lot of different sources how to fight; Dr. Phil book, Sovereignty, winning cases, and even losing cases, and a lot of others. 

The law clerk and I got to be good friends, I showed him some stuff that got him started with the sovereignty and he, after a couple years ended up becoming sovereign and quitting his job there. He worked as the law clerk there for over 12 years. 

The corporals let me go to the law library because when my name was put in the newspapers, they said I got indicted with 4 cops. The cops looked out for me because they knew who came to see me and I never told on anyone or talked to a prosecutor. So they looked at it as I was taking care of the other cops buy not telling on them. 

Even though I didn't even know those cops, but they didn't need to know that,haha. I learned that to win, you NEED to look outside the box, you can't do what everyone else does. 

This one is a little crazy. I'm already in the county jail, waiting for court on a couple different cases and they take me to another city to start court proceedings on a couple stolen vehicles. I get there and they try to give me a lawyer that I already heard about that is the worst lawyer ever! I tell them I don't want him and I'm not taking him as my lawyer. 

 They try to force me to and I tell them no! They tell me there is nothing I can do about it, I tell the lawyer if he gets near me I'll punch him in the face, he will not be my lawyer. I already heard and saw his work and I won't be screwed like he does all his clients! Finally they give me another lawyer and also put me in restraints also. I don't care, I just wanted a new lawyer and I would've done anything to get one. 

The next time I go to court, I'm in a mood that I just didn't care about anything and I didn't care what the judge was talking about. I stuck my tongue out at the court clerk and told the judge this whole thing was a waste of time. 

I said I was on multiple charges in other courts that held life sentences and large term sentences and this was nothing to me! He said you think this is a joke! I said yes! 

He said I'm going to give you a $100,000 bond! I said I can't get out if you give me a $1,000,000 bond, give me that! So he did. It didn't bother me, I couldn't get out if he paid my bond himself. I was on parole with a hold and I had bonds in other courts I couldn't get out on. There was nothing they could do to me in that court that would bother me, or so I thought!?! 

Then the next time I went to court, I was in the back talking to my new lawyer. He asked me if I was going to hit him if he came in the cell to talk, I said no, I was only threatening the other lawyer because he was a piece of *edited* that didn't work for anyone. 

The new lawyer said that my co-defendant would be in court in this hearing? I said co-defendant, I don't have one? He said they arrested your mom. 

Boy did that shock me! I couldn't believe it. I found out later, the feds arrest peoples' family a lot, they do that to make you plead guilty. They don't care if your family has nothing to do with anything. Sure enough she was there and I didn't act a fool again! 

When the cop was taking me back to County jail after court, he said they treated my mom with respect when they arrested her and he didn't want to do it, the F.B.I. made him. I said don't give me that bull*edit*, how can you treat someone with respect while you're arresting them? 

They can get real dirty, I would've never thought they would do that but after I read a couple stories about peoples cases, I saw that the fed's do some real dirty, illegal stuff to get you! My lawyer was amazed because I got a deal for only a year in the county for this, he didn't think they would do it. I told them I would go to trial if I couldn't get it, and I meant it. That case was a real mess. 

Note from Emma: I was arrested for auto theft, believe it of not. I appeared in court and the judge dismissed the charges because they were unfounded. I have no police record. They were simply trying to get my son to plead guilty in order to protect me.

This is about my state drug charge. As you know, I've been fighting it since Feb. 2005. Back in I think it was April 05 me and my lawyer were in court at a hearing to see if we could get my case dismissed for illegal search. We did. 

The court date before that we were supposed to do this but the prosecutor said they had a case that showed it wasn't illegal, so the judge gave them time to get it and bring it to court. I had the regular prosecutor from the county and a special one from the state capitol. When we got back to court, the judge asked the prosecutor if they had that case. They said they were in a rush and must have left it in the office at the capitol. 

My lawyer said "I know for a fact they don't have one that fits this, I'll stake my law degree on it". He studied my case for a month straight and knew they were lying. 

Anyway, the judge ended up throwing the case out and the prosecutor from the state called me a monster and a menace to society and got so mad she threw a book at me and just missed my head. My lawyer grabbed me and rushed me out of the court room. 

Now here is where this story gets interesting!! I was in prison on my parole violation because of this and saw on the news a story about a prosecutor from the County that got caught with a dead body in the trunk of his car! It was the same prosecutor that called me a monster for selling drugs. 

The prosecutor was getting high all night with his friend and his friend O.D.ed and died. The prosecutor was high and didn't know what to do so he put his friend's body in the trunk of his car and was driving around the city. 

This is the same person with the other prosecutor that thought so bad of me. What an example! 

I've been fighting this case for years and they did everything they could to stop me from appealing this case. I started in Feb. 2005 and they lost my paperwork in 2007 and found it again in 2009 to get me convicted, then they lost it again in 09 so I couldn't appeal the case and didn't find it again until 2013 when I put a motion in that said they either had to (find) my paperwork or let me out of prison, they all of a sudden found it, amazing! 

Note from Emma: My son was finally able to file his appeal on this case after years of trying to get any kind of cooperation from anyone about his case files. He recently won his appeal.
 
This is the story of when the feds tried to frame me for beating one of the Smith (the name has been changed) brothers. I think it was Bob (again changed)? 

Anyway, he got beat in the face with a wooden pole while he was at a bar in the city. All the bones in his face were broken and he was in the hospital for a long time. 

This happened in Feb. 2006. He told the feds and the prosecutor I did this to him and also a (confidential informant) told them I did this too. They both gave the same exact statement and said they were sure it was me! 

I told my lawyer I'm not worried about that charge, we are going to beat that. He said, I know your confident and all but this is a very bad charge and they got a very good case against you. I said no they don't, I got the second best alibi I could have.The best would be if I had been dead at the time.

I was in a state correctional facility from mid 2005 until late 2006. There's no way I could've done this unless I broke out of prison and did it and then broke back in before they missed me! He was shocked! 

He went and told the prosecutor they had the wrong guy and why. The prosecutor, instead of being glad they didn't lock up the wrong guy for this crime was so mad that they couldn't charge me threw her water bottle across the room. 

That's when my federal lawyer started to see "The Springfield curse". That's the curse of the Springfields that makes the cops hate us and want to do anything they can to get us!

Here's another story about my dad. He was on the run from the cops so he moved to Tennessee. His house was on a highway inside of the mountains, right outside of a small town. 

I was down there one time visiting him when all of a sudden a bunch of cops pulled up in the driveway. There were a few people in the house and we were all surprised. 

Dad ran to the back of the house and we all stayed in the front. The cops came and beat on the door. I said what do you want? They said they were looking for a person named John Springfield and they wanted in. 

I said you can't come in if you don't have a warrant! They said they were going to bust the door down, they didn't need a warrant! Dad's wife let them in. 

They came rushing in the house and looking through everything. They had us all in the same room and checked all of our I.D.'s. They asked us if we knew John Springfield? We all said no. They came to me and said it's funny you don't know him when you have the same last name as he does? I said it's a common name I suppose. 

They knew better but it's not me they were looking for and they can't do anything to me for not knowing someone. They were mad, real mad because they didn't find him. They stayed a while and finally left when they saw it wasn't doing them any good bothering us any more. 

He had a trap door in the floor of the back room and went out from there. There was no back door to the house. Right behind the house was a stream of water and he crawled from under the house to it and swam down a ways to a friend of his house and stayed there for a while. 

The reason they were looking for him was, some people told them his name because the cops were looking at him as a suspect in a murder? From what I hear, there was a guy that was going around there and robbing the older people in their homes. The guy would target people that were too old to even get around! 

The reason they were looking at Dad was the guy robbed Dad's friend and someone ran him over with a Semi on one of the very small back roads. Dad was one of the few people that drove around there with a Semi so he was a suspect. 

Later when he got caught here in this state, they checked about him being involved in that and decided he had nothing to do with it. I just thought it was a funny story how he swam to freedom when the cops came. Ok I better end this, talk to you later. 

My Son Has More

I have another set of stories from my son. They are in his words but I may add a comment here or there. If I do I will let you know it is mine and not my son's.

There are a few parts to this story so I'll start with the main part. I was at my house around 8 p.m. when someone knocked on my door. I got up, answered it and there were 3 guys there and one of them put a gun to my head. 

We went back into the living room and they told me and the girl that was there to lay on the ground. After I did one of them went to my bedroom and started searching it and the other one started kicking my in the head. He was jumping on my head trying to knock me out. It wasn't working because my adrenalin was pumping and I couldn't even feel it. He finally got tired and stopped. 

I turned my head to see what they were doing and he kicked me again. When he did, I saw he had a gun in his boot. I grabbed it and started to get up. As I did, the other guy came out of my bedroom and started shooting at me. I shot back, I shot at his head but missed because I was still trying to get up. 

I fired two more shots and hit him in the chest. After that, my gun jammed, cheap bullets. I heard his shots going past me but I didn't think I got hit; I never felt a thing. Everything was in slow motion. The guy I hit was falling as I was getting up. 

I all of a sudden turned when I was completely up and the guy that was watching me had his gun right between my eyes, about an inch away. I thought I was done right then. When he didn't fire, I looked up and saw he was in shock. 

I tackled him and we both went flying through the living room and all the way through to the far end of the kitchen. We both fell on the ground and both guns went flying. He got up and started running and I tried to get up but for some reason I couldn't get my legs working. They finally started working and I got up. I ran to the living room and everyone was gone, even the girl that was at my house. 

The first thing I thought was they took her. I ran out the door onto the front porch and saw them leaving in a car, still pulling the guy I shot in the back seat with the door still open and him halfway out of the car. The 3rd guy wasn't with them, he just was at the wrong place, wrong time. 

My neighbor called the cops, he said he saw them leaving and thought I was dead so he called the cops. He looked at me and said, you've been shot. I said, "No I'm not." He said, "Look at your leg."

I looked down and blood was running down my leg. The cops got there and took me to the hospital. At the hospital, they found out I got shot in both legs. I still have the bullets in me because they say it will cause more damage trying to take them out. 

That night, the cops searched my house and took some stuff out of it. I got out of the hospital about 2 a.m. and was back home. The people at the hospital told me the girl that was at my house was just there, they said she got shot in the but and she was ok.

The cops wanted me to come do a line up and me and my lawyer went to the precinct and looked at pictures. They got mad because I couldn't pick the guy out. The cop was pointing at a picture of a guy in a hospital bed, with a tube in his throat, saying this is the easiest lineup I ever did in my life. He was trying to make me pick that guy and was really mad that I wouldn't. 

They tried to threaten me after that by saying they found some illegal stuff in my house when they searched it. My lawyer told them the did an illegal search and told them they lied about when they searched. They said they searched all the next day but they couldn't have, I was home with people in and out all day. (Note from Emma: I picked him up at the hospital and was there off and on all day. There were no police officers.)

And you can't get a search warrant signed on a legal holiday, witch is when this all happened, Thanksgiving. You can get one signed for a legal holiday but not on one. So their threats didn't work and we were out of there and done with them. Now I just had to deal with my parole officer!

(Another note from me: It was Thanksgiving and my son did not want to go anywhere for a meal so my daughter and I took him a plate. It was a good excuse to make sure he was doing well.

I knocked on the door and heard a gruff voice asking who was there. It was my ex-husband. I told him it was me so he opened the door just a crack and put a gun in my face!

I told him to put that thing away and went in to check on my son. His father was frantic and afraid that someone would come back to retaliate. He had also been drinking so he was not in the most stable position. 

He went to his house a couple of blocks away to make sure everything was okay there. He handed me his gun and told me to protect things while he was gone. 

After he left my son said to give the gun to him and he would give it back to his father after he sobered up. So I gave it to him.

He was not happy when he came back and I did not have a gun for him. No more violence occurred.)

The morning I got up to report to my parole officer after the shoot out at my house, I was sore because I had just got shot in both my legs. I got up and just threw on some sweat pants and a T-shirt.

 I get to the parole office and there are about 100 people in there waiting, like always. It seems like everyone in this city is on parole. Anyway, after about an hour my parole officer comes out from her offices and looks over at me and has a weird look on her face. 

She comes over to me and says "You have to be the craziest person I've ever had on parole." I asked why. She said "You just got in a shoot out in your house, the F.B.I. called me for a couple months last year trying to get me to violate your parole because they said you robbed the Harley Davidson shop in another city and stole $1,000,000 worth of bikes and other stuff and now you come in here dressed like this." 

I said, "I just got shot, what am I supposed to wear, a suit?" She said, "No but not the shirt you've got on." I looked at my shirt and realized I put on a shirt I bought at the mall a few months ago. It was a black T-shirt and in big block Orange letters it said PAROLE VIOLATER!. Everyone in the room was laughing. Even my parole officer. 

She was a good parole officer, never really bothered me too much, and she wouldn't lock me up when the F.B.I. wanted her to, with no good reason. About the Harley Shop, I don't know how the cops thought I stole all that stuff. They raided my house and took me to jail and held me for 72 hrs. They never found anything and the first day they had me the detectives took me to an office in the precinct and asked me if I had anything to say. I said all I want is to talk to my lawyer. 

The second day a detective from the other city came and did the same. I gave the same answer. The third day the cop from the other city and an F.B.I. agent came and I gave the same answer again but this time the F.B.I. still tried to talk to me and didn't care about my rights. He was looking to see if he could get a reaction from me. After all that they took me back to go to my cell. 

They had to wait for the guard to come so as we were in the hallway. The cop from the other city asked, "After you get a lawyer, maybe then you will talk to us?" I looked at the F.B.I. agent and we both knew just by looking at each other that they had to let me go. 

When the guard came and took me to the cell, he said,"You aren't talking are you?" I said, "No." He said, "You want to know how I know?" I said, "Yes."

 He said, "Every time they take you out of here I put the cuffs on you real tight don't I?" I said, "Yes you do!" He said, "Well I'm just doing what I'm told. And every time you come back those cuffs are still real tight aren't they?" I said, "Yes, you guys are real good at keeping them tight." He said, "If you would've come back with the cuffs loose, I would've known you talked because they let you be comfortable." 

That's just one of there tricks they do, make you as uncomfortable as possible so you want to give them what they want, even if you're not guilty. That's why you hear about people that confess to crimes that later they are found not guilty of from other evidence, like D.N.A. People naturally want to get out of an uncomfortable situation and the government uses that. After all that, they let me go and I never heard about that again. Ok I got to end this,

Another Visit From My son

My son has come to tell us a few more stories about life in prison. While he has been there he has met some famous and infamous people. I am not sure whether that is good or bad but it is interesting. These are his stories in his words.

I was in a county jail and I needed to get a paper notarized so I could get an appeal lawyer. I asked the social worker to do it ( they are notaries). She said she couldn't because she couldn't verify what I was saying on the paper was true. 

I looked at her and asked how long she has been a notary? She said for years. I said then you should know that your job as a notary doesn't require you to verify anything, you are just witnessing that I am the one signing the papers. She looked at me with a guilty look on her face and said, "you're right," and notarized my papers. 

I knew what she was supposed to do because when I was a little kid, my mom was a notary and I listened to her even though she didn't think I did! Haha. That saved me a lot of hassle a few years later when they finally (found) my notarized papers. 

Another good story is when I helped the leader of a motorcycle club beat a few gun charges in the fed court. I met him in county jail and we talked because we were both from the same city, and both on Fed cases. He just came in and was real worried like we all were about our cases. I showed him a few cases that showed that some of his charges were illegal and had to be dropped. 

After that, he left for federal prison. I went to federal prison about 2 weeks later and when I got there he ran up and helped me carry all my legal stuff. A few other guys on my case were there and were shocked and laughed because here I come with this big black guy that is in a group that hates white people carrying my stuff. They said, you "shore" do know how to make an entrance, haha.   

This is one when I was in county again. I got called out of my cell for a visit and I was on the way to the visiting cells when I heard the guards talking about this crazy Arab guy that has been attacking everyone. As they were talking, other guards came around the corner with a guy that looked like he was in the taliban. He was chained up and going to the hole. 

When he saw me, he yelled at the top of his lungs "SPRINGFIELD" and broke free from the guards and ran straight for me. The guards started chasing him but they were too slow. He came up and gave me a hug and we laughed. The guards were in shock. He was really crazy and loved to fight everyone he saw but they didn't know I met him in county a while back and we got along real good. 

The guards asked me after that if I knew him and explained how he got moved from 5 different places in the jail since 2 weeks ago for fighting with everyone and I was the first person they ever saw him get along with. I laughed and said, "you got to be a little crazy to get along with a crazy guy",haha. 

Another time in county, I helped a guy with his sentencing hearing with the info I learned from reading a Dr. Phil book. It worked real good, and it was good practice for when I go to my sentencing. Anyway he was on a very bad crime and it didn't look good at all for him. 

He was there for home invasion and armed robbery because he broke into a house full of people and robbed them at gun point. We started to make out a sentencing speech, talking about how he grew up living in abandoned cars because he had no family and doing whatever he had to to survive. He was 18 and they called him Animal. We didn't mention anything about the crime in the speech, only his rough life and good things he did. 

When he went to his sentencing and came back, he was happy as could be. He said the judge actually cried when she heard how bad his life was growing up and gave him 18 years for the crime. I know you're shocked about the time, but the judge said before he did his speech, she was going to give him 35 or 40 years on his minimum at least. She said she felt bad for him but had to give him that much time for the victims sake. 

I tried to help another guy the same way but he lied about what he was in jail for and tried to lie to the judge too, he was a child molester and they slammed him, just like he deserved.

When I was going to court one day, the marshal that took me there said,"How is it that you know everyone we run into?" I laughed and said, "I've been here forever." He said, "You are the only guy I know that's on good terms with everyone in the whole place." 

That's because everyone we ran into, I helped with their case. I helped a lot of people and I'll tell you about some of them later. But that's what built up to the judge calling me a nice guy at my sentencing. I was real good at helping people with their cases and I got a few guys sentences lowered and one group of guys, I helped them beat their whole indictment, even their lawyer finally had to admit I was right. Out of time

More From My Son

Here is some more from my son. He requested that I write his stories too. I took out names and places and heavily bleeped a few parts. Otherwise this is in his own words. I hope you like it.


My federal charges all started when they arrested me one day after getting pulled over in the semi I was driving. I wasn't doing anything wrong at all, just working 10 hours a day. But they don't care about that, they just want to lock everyone up. I got arrested and they took me to the jail in the nearest town. That is where their investigation started. 

I spent the weekend there and first thing Monday morning this fed agent came and opened the cell door and said "I'll give you one chance and one chance only, you can either help yourself or **** yourself!" I told him, I'm sure you've seen my record, I'm real good at ****ing myself, I'll stick to that. He said, " I'm going to **** you like you never been ****ed before!!" and he slammed the cell door so hard I thought it would break off. 

He kept his promise about ****ing me over. He did everything he could do to make it hard on me. He is still at work! He left me in the county jail for 3 and a half years, steals my mail (that's illegal but they do it a lot, it's called a mail block), and even had the state courts "lose" my paperwork on my state case so I couldn't appeal my case for years. There is a lot more stuff he has done but it's a very long list and we don't have time for it. 

After that, they sent me to county court to get arraigned and set a bail for me. They charged me with a retagged* motorcycle. A family friend came and bailed me out before they could even put me in the county for processing. 

After that, I went on the run for a few months. Until one morning when I was at my girlfriend's house and they raided it and arrested me again. The federal officer was there and he found a bag of weed in another part of the house, somewhere I wasn't. He of course charged me with it. 

Also he stripped me to my underwear and took me into the basement and pulled a bottle of Vicoden from his pocket. It was my girlfriend's mom's legal prescription. He said to me, "I usually don't do this but I'm going to give you another chance." I said, I'm still on **** myself mode and shut my mouth! 

He then started to pull the name tag off the bottle of Vicoden and said,"It only gets worse from here!" I think he thought that was going to scare me. Well it did a little but I sure wasn't going to let him know that. I was charged in 3 different state courts with a bunch of charges and 2 federal courts.

I beat the first fed court stuff because it was an illegal search. They had an arrest warrant for me, not a search warrant for the house! Got um! And the other fed court stuff was my R.I.C.O. court and I beat all my charges except the drug conspiracy. I'm going to beat that on appeal. 

They tried everything they could to break me. They had me in all those courts trying to overwhelm me and get me to give up. My lawyer came to me and said they wanted me to tell on people and they would put me in the witness protection program. 

First, I don't know anything about anyone else and second, all my crimes had nothing to do with the Club**. How would I tell on people that I didn't do anything illegal with! And lastly, what kind of ass would I be if I just went along with their lies and send innocent people to prison just to get time off my sentence. 

And just to let you know, I'm one of only 5 people in the whole country to beat the R.I.C.O. statutes in trial, and the only person in the country to ever be charged with both R.I.C.O., R.I.C.O. conspiracy and Conducting a Criminal Enterprise. No one has ever gone through all that except me. 

They tried to make it as hard on me as they could. They left me in county jail for over 3 and a half years. That's like being in the hole all that time. 

But I made the best of it while I was there. I learned the law and how to fight in court. That's how I beat so many charges. They put the pressure on me and I had 2 choices, either give give up or fight with everything I got. I fought! After everything was over, everyone at the federal prison threw a party because I beat the R.I.C.O.'s.

Add this to the last part of the last story I sent you. I don't believe a person should get rewarded for telling on their co-defendants. The only way they should be allowed to testify against them is if they are getting no benefit from doing it. People are taught to handle their own burdens and not place them on others. So why is it ok for the government to reward people for doing this? 

Here's about my trucking company. I started driving trucks when I was 14. My dad taught me how to drive with 2 trailers behind the truck. By the time I was old enough to get my license, I was one of the best around at backing up the double trailers, because I had experience with a bunch of different combinations. 

We started hauling steel coils on flat bed trailers and got into everything from box vans to liquid tankers with no baffles (those are illegal now because they are too dangerous). I started with 1 truck and worked hard everyday. We worked 14 to 20 hours a day and for a long time, that's all we did. 

I ended up getting a couple more trucks and hiring some guys to drive them. After a while, I got into a deal with a company that was transferring loads from an auto plant to some storage places and I started buying more trucks and getting into different runs. At one time, I had 20 trucks of my own and 10 people with their own trucks leased on to my company. 

I got into some trouble with the cops over a deal I got into were I was leasing trailers to small trucking companies and trailer leasing companies. I specialized in custom, hard to get trailers. It would have all been legal except the trailers were all stolen and retagged! 

I had trucks going to Texas, down to the Mexican border, I had a deal worked out with the largest trucking company in Canada to be their main carrier on the American side of the border. With that deal alone, I was on track to do millions in revenue and within a year, my company would've quadrupled in size. 

I even had a guy do a favor for me and got me an expedited load out of the auto plant so that they would put me down as one of their official carriers. People said I couldn't do that because that company wasn't taking new carriers at the time, but I was known for fixing problems and getting things done! 

Then the Free Trade Agreement came into town! That basically put me out of business!!! Everything those big companies needed me for, they could do themselves now. Along with putting my American drivers out of work it ruined the pay level for a lot of people in America! The trucking companies now could haul their loads in America so I was out of all that business, which was most of my business. 

Also every trucking company in America lost money because the loads like the ones I specialized in (on time loads), the pay rates went down. Loads I used to haul for $3 a mile, now were being hauled buy Mexican carriers for $1 a mile. We couldn't compete.

I had 20 trucks at the time and almost all my business was eliminated with one stroke of the president's pen. I owned five trucking companies and I owned one third of two other companies. Those last two companies were set up to lease trailers to small trucking companies and other trailer leasing companies. I knew a lot of people in the business and had everything lined up and running. But like I said, powers higher than what my concerns were had other plans. Ok I better end this, I don't like talking about this stuff, it brings up a lot of memories of what could've been.

From Emma: * retagged means that vehicle identification numbers are altered or exchanged  
                      * * Club refers to a motorcycle club to which he belonged

Stories from My Son

I worked with a woman and her son. The son got into some serious trouble with the law. I could see that she was distressed so I spoke to her when I had a chance to some privacy with her.

She told me that she was so ashamed. The first thing I told her was that she had nothing to be ashamed about. She had done nothing wrong. She had committed no crime.

I also told her it was okay to still love her son. He may have done something wrong but he is still her son. A mother should love her children no matter what. And even though what he did (and admitted to doing) was wrong he is still a basically good person. I knew him and believed that.

Then I told her that I knew how she felt because my son was also in prison.

My son is a wonderful person and I am terribly proud of him. You need to remember that because it is important. If he did anything he should not have done it does not change the fact that he is a generous caring person who loves his family. His family loves him. Period.

When he found out that I was writing this blog my son became so excited. He, as well as his brothers and sister, have been after me for years to write these stories down and compile a family history. I send him copies of what I have written and he comments back.

Then I got a bonus. He has been sending me stories. Some of them I knew at least parts of. Some are new. He told me I can share them here. I will write them in his voice.

One day I was at my house with my girlfriend. It was the middle of the day when I got a phone call. It was my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. He said he was in front of my house and wanted to talk to me.

I went out and he was there in his car with his brother. His brother was a cop from a small town on the other side of our state and in full uniform.

I walked to the car. The brother told me I needed to stop seeing his brother's girlfriend... because he said so. He put his hand menacingly on his gun and said he wasn't playing. I told him he would have to do a lot more than that to scare me.

He pulled out his cell phone and called the police. "Officer needs assistance. An officer has been shot. Officer down!"

I couldn't believe what I just heard him say! In less than 2 minutes there were 30 or 40 cops at my house along with the police commander. The police grabbed me and searched my house.

The out-of-town cop told them I had kidnapped his brother's child and girlfriend and was holding them in my house.

Inside the house they asked my girlfriend what was going on. She told them that her "ex" had been stalking her for more than a year with his brother's help.

The police commander of my city was mad, really mad! He told them that you don't call an officer down call in the city when nothing is going on. He cussed them both up and down, then he apologized to my girlfriend and me and let us go back inside.

He took the two men with him. I never heard from them again. My girlfriend didn't hear from him for a long time. When they did run into each other he was very polite and never spoke of the incident.

I spend a lot of time in the library studying the law books, I've helped a lot of guys beat indictments and lessen sentences. One group of guys were looking at 20 years minimum because they all had past felonies.

I met them in jail. They were on a drug indictment and their lawyer told them to take a plea deal because there was a lot of evidence against them.

There was a tape recorded meeting with a Drug Enforcement Agency officer talking about going to rob a drug house for about 20 kilos of cocaine. When they got done talking they were all supposed to go to the place. At the last minute they decided not to do it and turned the other way.

As they were leaving a police car pulled them over on a "routine" traffic stop. The police searched their car and found a gun. All five were taken in and charged with possession of the gun and a cocaine indictment.

I showed them that the search was illegal because of a new case out of Arizona. It made it so your car can't be searched without a warrant, just like your house. Their lawyer told them I was wrong and to not listen to me. I gave them the case and they took it to the lawyer. He said that it was new and that I was right.

Then I showed them that even though they had abandoned the robbery they could still be indicted for conspiring to sell cocaine. Since they reasonably couldn't get any drugs, the police had to charge them with the lowest possible amounts. Every one of them was looking at less than 1 1/2 years.

They were shocked and again their lawyer thought I was wrong. Again I gave them a case to study.

I was transferred because I was going to court so I didn't hear from any of them for a while. Finally I got a letter from one of them. The government threw out the whole case because they did not want to spend the time and money to prosecute for a case that would net so little jail time.

They had tried to find me but I was "lost in the system". They wanted to give me some money even though I had not asked for anything in return. They found a friend of mine and told him to give me the money and to tell me thank you. They would help me with anything I need.

It is just one more reason the feds hate me. I didn't just study the laws. I learned why they do the things they do. I understand them. Most people don't take the time.

In The Closet

My parents bought the house they were living in. It had been a three family home so they did a lot of remodeling to make it a home for one family. They knocked out walls between two small bedrooms on the first floor to make a gigantic living room. And there was a door that had been sort of between the bedrooms and the living room. It led to a large closet.

My parents used this closet to hang coats, jackets, and sweaters. Shoes and boots were kept on the floor. Christmas decorations and other things that were not used all the time were stored in the closet. It was an old house so there was no light in the closet.

My family and I spent a lot of time at my parents' house. My children liked being at Grandma's where the food always tastes better. And at Grandpa's because he always found something fun for them to do. My husband felt like he could relax which was not something he often did. I just enjoyed the feeling that comes with being around family.

It was a natural move that my children and I would stay there while I waited for my third baby. My husband had a new job out of state and I was too close to having the baby to be able to safely travel. My husband was able to join us every weekend.

On one side lived an older couple and the woman's brother. They were nice people who kept to themselves. On the other side was a young family with four little girls. The youngest girl was about the same age as my second son.

One day my boys were outside playing. The youngest was with the little girl playing in her yard. My mother was not home and I was enjoying some quiet time in the house.

My three year old son came rushing into the house and made a bee-line for the closet and shut the door!

I was sitting there wondering what on earth he was doing. It was amusing the way he rushed in. Then there was a firm knock on the front door. I answered it.

There stood the neighbor who lived on the other side of the little girl's family. He was holding a mudball that was about the size of a soccer ball. He looked like he was offering it to me. I did not want it.

"Is that little blonde kid yours?" I said that he was. "Well he and the little girl next door just threw this at my bathroom window!" Again offering me the mudball. I still did not want it.

I asked him if the window was broken. That was not the point but no it was not broken.

I looked over at his house and sure enough there was a big spot that had obviously been made by a big ball of mud. I assured him that I would talk to my son and make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

He became totally outraged. Sherry (the little girl next door) had been with my son. When the man confronted her parents, they grabbed her and spanked her. He wanted my son punished too. I told him firmly that I was not going to spank my child in front of him just to make him happy. I would take care of it but in my own way. He was still sputtering as I closed the door.

I then had my son come out of the closet. I explained that we do not throw mud at people's windows. Then we went together to the man's house. I had my son apologize and offer to clean the window. The man declined.

I have told you before that my mother was a resourceful woman. Well she decided to collect returnable pop bottles. She would turn them in once a week to collect the deposit on them and put the money in a special bank account. It kept the neighborhood cleaner and she was getting an extra bit of cash. She was going to buy a car with it.

And buy a car she did. It was a used model that needed a paint job but it ran good. She painted it herself with some spray paint she had. It was fluorescent blue paint and the car glowed in the dark.

One night a police helicopter noticed the glow and came down to investigate. They were astounded and amused.

So Mom had her car. After a few months she began to complain that it was making a "chirping" noise. Daddy drove it around the block and heard nothing. As time went on Mom said the noise was getting worse.

On a Saturday Mom was going to the grocery store. I was sitting in a chair feeling huge and bloated awaiting the imminent birth of my third child. Mom said the chirping noise was getting worse and worse so Daddy told her that when she came back from the store she should honk the horn. Then he would go to the front door and she could move the car back and forth so he could listen.

After about an hour and a half we heard the horn. Daddy sat there. I told him that Mom was honking for him so he heaved that put-upon sigh that he had and went to the door.

Mom was driving forward, then backing up so he could hear the noise. A look of horror came over Daddy's face. He turned from the door. On his way to the closet he said, "I just can't stand watching your mother try to park the car." Into the closet he went and closed the door.

I was still laughing uncontrollably when Mom came in to see where he went.

Eventually they knocked out the wall in the closet to make an entrance to the rooms that my parents were going to use as their room. I miss the closet.

Emergency Room

My children certainly had their share of accidents. I feel I was a good mother. I watched over them carefully but somehow they still managed to get hurt. Not all of their escapades made it to the emergency room but a good many of them did.

My oldest son was not emergency room prone. No. He had to take it further. He was born with two thumbs on one hand. When he was about 9 months old he had surgery to remove the extra one.

After many x-rays the doctors had determined that unlike many extra appendages, my son's extra thumb was an actual thumb. Most extras are simply made of cartilage and are easily removed. Because my son's thumbs were both made up of bones, muscles, ligaments, tendons, and skin and seemed to be equal in every way it was decided to remove the outer one.

The surgery was successful but he needed physical therapy to strengthen the remaining thumb. Metal braces to try to encourage the thumb to grow straight were made.

The knuckle of the remaining thumb bent from side to side rather than from back to front. Another surgery when he was 4 was to straighten the thumb and restructure the knuckle so it would bend properly.

After the surgery his hand and arm were in a cast up to the middle of his upper arm for about 6 weeks. He made good use of that cast. Whenever someone tried to disagree with him he conked them in the head with it.

When it finally came off the smell was unbearable. And all that dead skin. Then when the doctor slid out the two metal pins that had been inserted in my son's hand and arm to hold everything in place, my son started to scream. And scream, and scream. It was not from pain but how would you like to see six inch metal rods coming from inside your arms?

The operation was a success. My son's thumb is normal sized. Many people in his position have a remaining thumb that is still the size it was when they were babies. He cannot grip with it because the knuckle does not lock into place... it just keeps bending. One interesting thing is that when they do surgeries to reconstruct a thumb, they come out with a digit that resembles a finger more than a thumb.

We lived in a small town. We owned an old pickup truck that I drove the places we wanted to go. I would get the two older boys in the truck then place a baby on the lap of each one. My oldest son usually sat nearest to the door and held his baby sister.

One day as I was turning the corner, the door flew open. My son felt himself falling out. He managed to throw his little sister to his brother before he fell. He was up and running before I could stop the truck. There were no injuries except for a scrape from the gravel on his upper lip. He insisted on wearing a bandaid over that scrape for days.

Son number one had to have his tonsils removed when he was 5. They would not let me spend the night at the hospital with him so I promised I would be there bright and early before he went to surgery. I went to the hospital earlier than expected but they had taken him to surgery even earlier.

When my son came out of surgery he was still asleep. But when he woke up he began to scream. I told you he was a screamer. Finally the nurse came in and gave him a sedative to put him back to sleep in hopes that he would calm down. All that screaming could cause hemorrhaging. The sedative worked.

Son number two was interesting in the injuries he chose. He was the one who would open a drawer of the desk, then when he went to close it he would shut his fingers in it. Then he would pull the drawer open and shut his fingers in it again.

One time I was sitting in my chair mending some clothes. My son was still in diapers. He was sitting across the room from me facing the wall. I watched in amusement as he would reach his little arm straight in front of him then pull it quickly back and do a little shimmy. After he did this about 6 times (I am not real quick) I got up to see what kind of game he was playing.

That was when I saw the nail sticking out of the electrical outlet. He was reaching for it again. I stopped him. He was trying to get the nail out after he had stuck it in there and getting a little jolt when he would touch it. No emergency room required.

I do not know what possessed him to pull a can lid out of the trash but he did. He was playing with it and cut his thumb. It was a deep gash so off we went to the emergency room. Several stitches later we went home.

When the stitches came out the edges of the wound were still a little ugly. He insisted on wrapping a tissue around his thumb because he was afraid it was going to bleed again. The assistant pricipal at school sent him home and said he could not come back until I sent a note from the doctor stating that it was healed.

Somehow a wooden toothpick was embedded in the carpet. My son was crawling around playing and managed to get the toothpick up under his knee cap. Off we went to the emergency room. It was a relatively simple procedure to remove it. My son felt no further effects from it.

The most frightening injury happened to him when he was an adult. He was watching television when two men broke into his house to rob him. When he protested they shot him. One shot into each leg. Because he did not want to scare me he called his sister who called me.

They were releasing him from the hospital and he needed a ride home. There was nothing they could do for him except tell him to try to stay off his feet until his legs healed. They were unable to remove the bullets so he still has a bullet in each of his legs.

My third son broke things. The kids were climbing a tree and he lost his footing and fell. Luckily his foot got caught on a branch so he did not fall all the way to the ground but his arm hit against the tree. To the emergency room we went. His arm was broken.

The day the cast came off his arm was a sunny day. When we returned from the doctor my son was riding his bike. It had no brakes so the kids stopped it by using their foot as a brake. My son put down his foot to stop and let out a scream. His foot was broken.

He waited a while before the next break. I do not even remember how he did it. But I recognized the scream. We went strainght to the emergency room. His bone was not actually broken. Young childrens' bones are still fairly soft. When he landed he wrinkled the bone in his arm. The doctor had to stretch his arm out to pull out the wrinkle before they put a cast on it.

Another time he broke his leg again. And again I do not even remember how. But I do remember the time he and his brother were fighting. My son went running up the stairs to try to escape from his bigger brother. He lost his footing and fell against the stairs. He hit his hand on the edge of the step and broke it.

This child had the nerve to ask me if he could try out for the football team in high school. I told him, "Absolutely not! You break to easily."

The only accident he had that did not involve broken bones was the time he took a hatchet to a can of WD40. The contents of the can exploded into his eyes. I grabbed a gallon jug of water and flipped him upside down to flush as much as I could from his eyes before rushing him to the emergency room. Luckily no permanent damage was done. Although he says now that he believes that incident is the reason he is color blind.

My darling daughter. Sugar and spice and everything nice. A beautiful bit of fluff. So soft and feminine. Well... not quite.

When she was about 2 we were loading the pickup to go to the store. Her brother, my second son, was her lap that day. He closed the door and she immediately screamed. He had closed it on her fingers. He looked puzzled so I tried to stay calm and said in a very quiet even voice, "Open the door. Open the door. Open the door." It finally sunk in and her released her little fingers.

Instead of the store we went to the emergency room. Amazingly no bones were broken but her little hand was bruised. Her brother felt awful.

One rare day the kids got a visit from their father. When the visit was over he was driving away. My daughter had on her roller skates and decided to race him. She was on the sidewalk and only slightly behind. He went around the corner. She hit a rock and flipped head over heels.

When she got up she had a gash on her chin. She got several stitches to close it. They did a good job. She barely has a scar.

Most of her injuries happened as she got older. As a manager of a pizza place she had to know how to perform every job in the place. As an industrious worker she did every job in the place. She was constantly cutting her fingers. Several times she needed stitches.

Once she got a small piece of metal in her eye somehow. I took her to the emergency room and they used a magnet to remove it.

She always complained about her weird feet. She said they were deformed. Actually they were bunionettes. She had surgery on the first one. It was an outpatient procedure and I took her home as soon as she was alert enough to go.

She was still on crutches when she was allowed to go back to work. She was being siily and slipped and fell. There were wires in her foot that needed to be fixed. Being cautious is not her long suit.

At the hospital the nurses once told me they were going to reserve one of the treatment rooms just for my children. We laughed of course.

I have never really concerned myself with what other people think. I did start to think about all the times my children had been in that little room. All I could do was hope the medical personnel realized that these were all freak accidents. I certainly did not want them to call someone to investigate.

So now my children are grown. If they need medical treatment they have others to tend to them. If my grandchildren need emergency care, my children do it. I am happy to assist and occasionally I have but I do not miss the days of the emergency room.

My Second Son

When the alarm clock went off for my husband to get up for work is when I felt my first contraction. I was about to have my second baby.

I was hoping for a girl and I think my husband was too. I had a little boy and it just seemed right to have a girl next.

My husband drove me to the hospital. As always happened with me it did not take long for things to progress. By the time my doctor arrived I knew the time for delivery was close.

The doctor insisted I have a saddle block. That is when the anesthetic is injected through a needle inserted into your back and affects only the lower portion of your body. You sit on the edge of the bed and bend over while this procedure takes place. Rather barbaric if you ask me.

Then the doctor announced that he was going to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee! I told him the baby was coming now. He said; "Nonsense. It takes at least twenty minutes for the anesthesia to go to work." He left.

The nurses were bustling about. There was an intern getting ready to assist. He was slipping into his scrubs as I said; "The baby is here." He turned around and caught the baby just before he hit the table and said, "So it is.'"

From that first second my son was as beautiful as any baby you have ever seen. He had a pretty little round face. His complexion was fair with rosy cheeks. He had pretty blue eyes. He was perfect.

My baby would not wake up to eat for the first two days of his life. When he finally did want to nurse he was hungry all the time. A nurse would come looking for me. When she would find me in another mother's room it was always, "There you are Emma. Your baby is starving." He went from not eating at all to eating all the time.

My husband and I had not been able to agree on a name for this baby. My father came with my husband to visit me that first night at the hospital. He had suggested a name to my husband. My husband wanted to know what I thought of it. It was one of the names I wanted in the first place. So we had a first name.

I asked what we should do for a middle name. My father thought for a moment then suggested one. It was perfect. Daddy named my little boy.

I had not tried to explain much about a new baby to my first son. He was too little to grasp what that really meant. When we went home my brother was carrying the baby and my son ran to sit on my lap. He had missed me and I missed him.

I said, "Look what Mommy brought you." He looked up and tried to catch his breath. Finally he said; "It's a baby." He liked it.

My second son was quiet. Not shy, just quiet. He played and did normal little kid stiff but he did not yell and scream the way a lot of children do. But he had a temper. And such a big loving heart.

We moved to another state when my son was about four years old. In the house next door lived a little boy who was almost exactly the same age as my son. Their birthdays were weeks apart. They were about the same size with that blonde, blonde hair. Some people would call them tow-heads which is a nickname for blonde boys.

The little boy was at our house constantly which was fine by me. His grandmother lived at the end of the street and she took care of him while his mother worked. Several times she would come to our house when it was time for her grandson to get ready for bed. She would just pop her head in the door, grab him by the arm, and take him home. I do not know how many times she grabbed the wrong child and would be half-way down the street before she realized she had my son instead.

One time the two boys disappeared. I could not find my son and the grandmother could not find her grandson. We combed the neighborhood. Thankfully it was a short street but they were nowhere to be found. At the end of the street was a highway. No one had seen them up that way. We were about to call the police for assistance.

My oldest son tried to get my attention and was finally successful. He wanted to know if we had checked the house next door where the boy and his mother lived. Of course not because the mother was at work. The grandmother checked anyway.

There they were. They had gone in for a drink of water and could not get back out.

Money was tight for my husband and me. It was a real tough stretch right then. We were trying to make a go of a business and it was not going well. My son was about 10 years old.

My husband and I were leaving the house to take care of some financial things. My son jumped up and asked us to wait a second. He ran to his room and came back with something in his hand. He held it out to us and said, "Here. You need this more than I do." It was twenty dollars that someone had given him as a gift. Of course we refused it but what a generous act. That is my son.

After my husband and I separated and eventually divorced my children did not see as much of their father as they should have. I encouraged all of them (ex-husband included) to spend more time together but it just did not happen.

My second son sensed that his father needed some of his family close to him so he spent a lot of time at his father's house. There was the added bonus of there not being as much discipline as there was with me.

One time his father brought him home and told me that my son, his step-brother, and another boy had gotten into the liquor. He said' "Here's your son. You can have him. He's half drunk."

My son staggered and looked at his father and said, " I'm not half drunk old man. I'm all the way drunk." I sent him to bed and dealt with him in the morning. Then I grounded my ex-husband for not taking better care of our child.

Then there was the time I went to pick up my son from his father's house. He had been there for a couple of days and it was time to come home. He was not there.

As a matter of fact his father thought he might have gone with some older friends. He thought they might be out of state. I was furious.

The good thing was that if you would talk to my son and explain the logic to what you are saying, he is receptive. I told him how much it worried me that he had gone so far away and not only did not tell me but that I had no way of contacting him. He nodded his head in a thoughtful way. Then he told me he would not do anything like that again. Of course he kept his promise. My son never lied to me, not ever.

This son is the one who always seemed to be in trouble. Not all of it was his fault. When he was in first grade I was called to the school. He had wet his pants. He had not done that since he was potty trained.

I took a dry set of clothes with me and went to his classroom. His teacher was indignant. She had told the students to reach as high as they could and try to touch the ceiling. My son knew he would be closer to the ceiling if he was on his desk so he climbed up and reached high.

The teacher became angry and punished him by having him stand in the corner.  She did not say how long he was in that corner. What she did say was that he had raised his hand and told her that he needed to go to the bathroom. She refused to let him go. "He wet his pants just to spite me!" I took him home then made a "friendly" visit to the principal.

One night I realized my son who was in the second grade could not read. I marched up to the school the next day. His teacher said she was very happy to see me. I asked her why she had not contacted me about his inability to read. She said that a lot of the parents do not want to be bothered. I said. "Bother me. I cannot help with a problem I am not aware of."

Then she explained that when she would tell the class to take out their workbooks my son would cross his arms and glare at her. He scared her.

I said, "He's seven years old! Tell him to take out the workbook!"

I offered to help with his reading. If she could give me a copy of their reader I would work with him at home. Done.

Within a week I also had copies of all the other textbooks from his class. If I had wanted to be a teacher, I would have been. Off I went to visit the principal again.

The principal listened to my complaints and sympathized. He was good at that. Then he explained that I needed to allow the teacher a little time. She was going through a nasty divorce and it was affecting her teaching. Well, excuse me. If she is having personal problems she has no business taking them to school with her. In a factory a worker is not allowed the luxury of an unhappy home situation affecting production. Then I found out that her divorce happened 10 years earlier. Instant smoke from my ears.

We reached an agreement. I was not happy with it because I did not get my way for the whole thing but it was better. And I continued to work with my son at home. The thing is that all of my children are extremely intelligent. My second son is the quickest of all of them. All the school needed to do was try. He now can read very well thanks to me.

My son got into a fight at school. I have no idea who started it and do not care. The principal called me at work. He informed me that my son had been in the fight and refused to accept his punishment.... a paddling. The principal asked him why he could not paddle my son and my son said, "Because my mom said so."

Now the principal knew that he was not to touch my children. Every year at the beginning of the year I would talk to him and make that point clear. I believe in discipline. I will back a teacher if she needs to punish my child in order to maintain order. But no one, and I do mean no one, is ever under any circumstances to hit my children. Then they would have to deal with Angry Mom.

So my son was suspended from school for several days. I took him home where he was promptly put to work. Hard labor.

In junior high school my sons were there at the same time. It was a public school that only the most intelligent children were allowed to apply. They were accepted.

Studies had been done that showed the most unproductive time at school was the last two hours on Friday.The children were just passing time before the weekend started. The school instituted what they called "flex" classes. For the last two hours on Friday the students would do something a little more interesting. They would sign on for a semester then change to a different "flex" class the next semester.

Both my boys had chosen a class where they would build model cars. They usually sat at the same table across from each other. One Friday they were sitting at the table with their papers in front of them waiting for the teacher to come.

My son was known for having a hot temper. It was easy to pick fight with him because he saw no need to control himself. This particular day some boys sent the smallest of their group in to make my son angry.

The boy walked up and made a remark to my son then pushed his paper off the table.

My oldest son saw what was happening. He knew what was going to happen. He jumped up to grab my second son. He reached across the table but my son was gone! He grabbed the other boy by the front of his shirt and raised him up against the blackboard. The boy's friends had disappeared. My other son managed to stop the rest of it before the teacher came in. He may have saved that boy's life. (That is a joke.)

The children were standing in line waiting to have lunch. My son's locker was right there. Another boy opened it and started rifling through it. The assistant principal was there and did not stop him. Suddenly the boy cried out that there was a gun in my son's jacket.

The principal went to take a look. There was no gun of course. But there was a knife. My son's jacket was one of those that had zippered pockets everywhere and the knife was in one of those.

I was summoned to the school. When they told me on the phone what the problem was I said, "That's where it is. (Meaning the knife) He uses that to cut the hoses for the car radiators when he is helping his dad. He has been looking all over for it."

When I got to the school the police were already there. The principal was reasonable. He told me that my son had also told him that he used the knife when he worked with his father and that he had been unable to find it. As a matter of fact the assistant principal had placed it back into the same pocket to show the police and he could not find it again.

They had no choice but to suspend him from school. They would not press criminal charges so the police left after giving him a good talking to. I was told that the school was under no obligation to allow him to return and they would discuss what they wanted to do during the suspension.

I asked them how they felt about letting him return. The principal softened a bit and told me that because my son was a good student and never caused any problems(?) he would be in favor of a return.

My son grew up and became involved with a woman who was older than he was. She had three children. Each one had a different father. Eventually they married.

Now she came from a strange family but I always said she was the sanest of the bunch. She treated me with the utmost respect. And if I ever needed a favor I did not even have to ask. She would break her neck trying to help me. I liked her.

The problem was that she and my son were not good for each other. I am not saying not right for each other. They were not good for each other. My son was as much at fault as she was.

Her children were very dear to me and still are. They are all grown now and they are parents themselves.

My son and his wife divorced after several years of marriage. I still hear from her. She seems to be doing well.

From other relationships my son has a step-daughter that he is very close to. She is special to me also. She is a lovely young woman, very pretty with a good head on her shoulders. She seems headed toward something in the medical field.

He has a daughter that is 10 years old. She is like her father. Sometimes they are both too smart for their own good. She lives in another state so I do not get to see her often but we have a wonderful time together when we get the chance.

And he has a seven year old son. What a precious little boy he is. So smart and so shy. He looks like his father and he will be tall like his dad. My son is several inches over six feet tall. Unfortunately his mother has chosen to keep him away from us.

My son looked so much like his father when he was little. The strange thing is that the older he gets, the more he looks like my father.

And he continues being a kind-hearted person. A few years ago he dated a young woman whose younger sister was rather a loner. The younger sister was not as attractive or outgoing as her sister. Her family did not treat her very well and belittled her. My son liked her so they remained friends after he stopped seeing the sister.

The girl's grandfather died. Her mother told her that if she could not manage to look respectable she should not bother attending the funeral. She looked to my son for solace. He decided to help her.

My son sent the girl with his newest girlfriend to shop and buy her a nice outfit. Then he had the girlfriend help her get dressed and all made up. They did her hair. She felt beautiful.

As she was getting ready to leave for the funeral, my son handed her the keys to his sports car. He told her to tell her family that she had won the lottery and had a lot of money now.

When she came back after the funeral she was so happy. She said it was the only time her family had been nice to her. My son was just glad that they had not treated her bad. That is the kind of person he is.