September 12 update

We got to visit with Jacob again this morning! (Henceforth, this will now be our regular Saturday morning routine, until he walks free.) Beth and I woke up in Portland before sunrise, hopped in our car at 6:45, and pointed it southwest. One hour and 20 minutes later, we found ourselves in the parking lot of the Sheridan Prison Camp. Along the way we had passed numerous tree farms and fields of grapes, pumpkins, kale, apples, lettuce, hops, and more. The early morning sun bathed the fields and hills in an amber glow, reminding me of Jacob’s description of them as reminiscent of southern Germany, where he worked on two organic farms during the summer of 2023. I had not thought of it previously, but perhaps it was that summer’s experiences that kindled in him a deep love of cultivation and stewardship of edible plants.

A Quaker elder once named horticulture as “the slowest form of performance art.” I think I am finally beginning to understand what she was talking about. In this chapter of life, I have the dual privilege of experiencing and also observing that art form, both thanks to Jacob. At home, I get to try my hand as the artist’s apprentice, caring for the garden that Jacob established in our bucolic yard in Portland. (The thumbnail for this blog post shows last week’s harvest.) On Saturday mornings, I get to play the role of audience, hearing Jacob describe in exquisite detail the systems he is designing, building, and implementing in Horticulture at Sheridan Prison.

This morning, dressed in his now-familiar-to-me green prison scrubs – with “HOOPES” and his inmate number affixed to the lapel – Jacob painted a picture for Beth and me of the hydroponic system he has designed and installed. I invite you to imagine his soothing baritone voice, and then visualize his twinkling eyes, curly mop-top hairdo, scruffy beard, and deep dimples, appearing each time he flashed a smile during his story-telling. Which happened quite often, owing to his open-heartedness and delight in sharing about his new-found vocation.

Yes, Horticulture is officially Jacob’s “job” in prison. He gets paid pennies on the dollar compared to work on the Outside, but that is beside the point. He is bringing his legendary work ethic and attention to detail to Horticulture, and it is repaying him with a sense of purpose, a sense of accomplishment, and a way to channel his passion for bringing order and elegance to complex systems. He told us, “I get to work at 6:30 every morning, and work solidly until 3:30. It is great way to burn time. I am exhausted by the end of each day.” He said this with sense of satisfaction, and a deep awareness that having the structure and consistency of a job is a godsend for him. I am so proud of him for recognizing this, and making sure to follow through on it.

I will interrupt myself here to say that if you have not yet read the profile of Jacob in the Portland Mercury, published on September 4, please treat yourself to that right now: LINK.

Jacob’s hydroponic gardening system hangs from the curved metal arch supports – akin to ribs – of a 30’ x 100’ greenhouse. He said that his fellow Horticulture workers were skeptical about its design, and still were unconvinced when he started to construct it. As it nears completion, they now believe. I laughed out loud when I heard this story! Almost the identical scenario transpired back in Pennsylvania, when he began building an artful spiral staircase on a huge maple tree, leading up to a treehouse I had constructed. Only in that situation I was the Unbeliever. Jacob was not deterred by my lack of faith. He persevered, and built something worthy of Fallingwater, the visionary Pennsylvania homestead constructed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Visitors to our home were stunned by this staircase, and didn’t believe it was structurally sound until I walked up the staircase without holding the railing, to demonstrate my own newfound faith.

While we are visiting in prison, we may not have a phone or a camera. Jacob is not permitted to write or draw in our company, nor are we permitted to provide him a pencil and paper on which to do so. But that did not stop Jacob from using his words and hands and the little plastic table between us to illustrate the precise location and dimensions and orientations and connections of the various baskets and ropes and wires and gravel and boards. He said he has mailed us a drawing of it, which I intend to include in this blog after it arrives. But the mail to and from prison is flukey, inconsistent, and slow, so I won’t hold my breath.

Speaking of mail, Jacob continues to receive more of it than he has been able to respond to. Today he said, “After supper at 4, I am usually physically tired, and not in a great letter-writing headspace.” If you have mailed him a letter, and you are wondering whether he has received it, please give him grace. We discussed today a new approach for his responding to mail in a more timely manner. We shall see what he does in that regard. In any event, please know that he deeply treasures each piece of personal mail, and asked me to communicate that to everyone in this blog.

In my world, I have begun my new gig as a school bus driver for the Portland Public School District. Yesterday, on my way to my first stop, I said aloud to myself, "I am building the Chartres Cathedral!" And then I laughed out loud. When I got home, I went to the Internet, to see if I had remembered the Zen story accurately, or accurately enough. I think I did. Here it is:

A traveler was walking down a dusty road in medieval France when he came upon a massive construction site. Men were covered in sweat, dust, and grime, working under a scorching sun. Curious about what they were building, the traveler approached the first bricklayer. "What are you doing?" the traveler asked. The first man wiped his brow, looked up bitterly, and grumbled, "I am laying bricks. My back is breaking, my hands are blistered, and I’m just trying to earn enough money to buy some bread." The traveler nodded sympathetically and moved down the line to a second bricklayer, who seemed slightly more focused. "What are you doing?" the traveler asked. The second man looked up with a neutral expression and replied, "I am building a wall. It is hard work, but it provides a steady wage to feed my family, and I am becoming good at my trade." The traveler thanked him and walked over to a third bricklayer. This man was working with meticulous care, wiping away excess mortar and aligning each stone perfectly. Despite the heat, he was humming a tune. "What are you doing?" the traveler asked. The third man stopped, stepped back, and looked up at the sky. A bright smile spread across his face as he said, "I am building a great cathedral. We are creating a monument that will inspire people for generations to come."

Jacob is building a great cathedral. Thank you so much for your support in helping him maintain the presence of mind and strength of spirit to keep building.