September 26 Update

On this, the first Saturday of autumn, Beth and I awoke before sunrise to prepare for our weekly trip to Sheridan, Oregon, to spend time with Jacob in the prison camp visiting area. I walked outside in the darkness to see the full moon – fittingly called the “harvest moon” – setting in the western sky. Our drive was bathed in the glow of early morning, taking us out of the Portland metro area and into the vegetable fields, fruit orchards, and vineyards of the central Willamette River valley. The drive consistently takes about an hour and 20 minutes. That time feels shorter on each successive trip, with landmarks becoming more familiar each time. The thumbnail of this week’s blog post comes from a stand of maple trees along Route 18 near Sheridan, which we have watched turn from green to red over the past month. A new season has arrived, and we are at Day 66 of Jacob’s internment. Only 834 to go.

It was glorious to see Jacob, to hug him, and to hear his voice in the flesh. He was looking solid, with his scruffy beard and increasingly tousled hair. Beth and I agree that as long as Jacob stays healthy and relatively centered, we think he will be fine, or as fine as it is possible to be in that situation. He told us again today – as he reminds us every time – that everything and anything can be taken away from him at any time. His books. His letters. His journal. And today he told us that he now realizes that anyone can be taken away from him at any time, too. Ouch. Jacob said, “This whole experience is somewhat traumatizing, continually. At the same time, horticulture and receiving letters produce positive stress. And I have been writing a lot of letters, and also daily in my journal. I am making it work.”

Before I continue with new tales of Jacob – of which I have several – I want to pause and pivot, and lift up other members of our family. Several people have inquired about our younger son, Joseph, who has gone unmentioned in these weekly blog posts. Thank you for your loving concern. I am happy to report that we are in touch with Joseph by phone multiple times weekly, as well as daily via text. He is dealing with the vicissitudes of being in his early 20’s with great versatility. He is building an art practice and working under the supervision of the Arts department head at George School as the Ceramics Tech, in addition to lifeguarding and occasionally substitute teaching. Joseph is on the path of figuring out how to make a living and also how to be an artist. Both of these alone are hard enough, but to try to figure out how to make them both happen is unbelievably challenging. With his partner, he is the caretaker of our house and property in Newtown Township, which he happily enjoys. I am proud of him, and happy for him.

Beth, likewise, has developed a rhythm for her art practice. She has been consistently putting in 5+ hours daily in her basement studio, which is amply illuminated with daylight-balanced lights. Her current body of work draws from what she is experiencing personally and vicariously during Jacob’s internment and our new home in the Pacific Northwest. I will not divulge the form nor the content, but suffice it to say, it is evocative and sublime. I expect that at such time as she is ready to share it, people will find it highly impactful. We heard a piece on NPR about the artist Micah Johnson, which resonated for me in relation to Beth’s work. Johnson said, “Art is not meant to be beautiful in the sense that it’s going to match this couch, or beautiful in the sense that it looks like this person in this photo, because anybody can do that now. Now it’s about, how can you bring your essence into that piece?” Beth’s essence definitely comes through her work.

Our fear – one of many – with all of this was that Jacob's experience might seriously weaken our family. Well, as of today, I am grateful to report – knock on wood – that it has actually had the opposite effect. This whole imbroglio feels like it has strengthened our family, in ways that we could not have predicted. What a wild ride it has been, and continues to be. While this is not where we imagined ourselves 12 months ago -- geographically or existentially -- we are clear this is where we need to be right now. Talk about a spiritual gift!

I asked Jacob to tell me about signs of autumn at Sheridan prison camp. Without hesitation, he said, “The grass is green again.” He pointed outside, and sure enough, the grass was emerald green. “That grass was yellow when I arrived. This is the ‘second spring’ we get here.” We talked about the fall plantings that we and our neighbors in Portland are doing, and that Jacob and his fellow inmates in Sheridan are doing: kale, broccoli, scallions, arugula, cabbage. Delightful!

Jacob described two different leadership styles that he has observed in Horticulture: “getting things done” vs. “keeping the space friendly for everyone.” He seemed to indicate a preference for the latter style, at least in his current situation. Everyone feeling safe and accepted in this sub-culture of prison life is a huge benefit, where safety and acceptance are neither given nor guaranteed. At the same time, I detected in Jacob an awareness that the “getting things done” style might have been preferable for him in different spaces in his life. He wondered aloud whether that will still be true after he gets through this chapter. He speculated that the experience he is currently having is likely to change him, and hopefully make him more adept at handling situations that previously might have felt highly stressful, even unbearable. Let’s put a pin in that, shall we?

“I can only buy 20 stamps per week,” he told us. That did not sound like enough to meet the demand. “So I pay people with other stuff I can get at commissary, and they sell me their stamps. This week it was packets of Chicken-of-the-Sea mackerel.” How ingenious!

Jacob told us: “I have read The Ministry for the Future, by Kim Stanley Robinson, the author of 2312. I recommend it. Robinson is a DSA member.” I checked it out and learned that “Ministry for the Future is a 2020 science fiction novel by Kim Stanley Robinson that explores how humanity might address and survive the climate crisis over a 25-year period starting in 2025.” That sounds chillingly relevant. I think I will procure it and read it.

He went on: “I am reading The Foundation Series, by Isaac Asimov. It’s 5 books, 3 written in the 1950’s and 2 in the 1980’s. They’re great! City councils figure prominently in the series.” (Jacob has been able to keep abreast of activities going on in Portland City Council, thanks to the faithful communication of a friend in Portland who knows he cares deeply about our city’s governance.)

As I have been writing this blog on Saturday evening, an email [on the restricted email app for inmates that he and we are permitted to use] just came in from Jacob. He wrote: “I had been reminded that this thing was possible, but it didn’t happen until today: I saw Mount Hood through a gap in the trees and hills! How wonderful!” This makes my heart sing. Beth and I beheld Mount Hood looking especially spectacular on the drive homeward today, probably the clearest sky of our almost 4 months of living here. We had no clue that Jacob could also see it. Knowing that gives me a lovely lift.

Throughout our visit this morning, I observed in Jacob’s demeanor an extraordinary groundedness and calm presence, perhaps even more than I am accustomed to in him. (And that is saying a lot.) I commented that his response to the whole ordeal struck me as profoundly Buddhist. (I taught “Buddhism for Beginners” at George School.) A gentle smile materialized on his face and he said, “Yes. I tell people here that Quakerism is the Buddhist branch of Christianity.” !?! I have been teaching world religions and spiritualities for the past 20+years, and I never thought of that line. I love it! It’s concise, poetic, and gets at something essential in our mystical faith tradition in very few words.

All of Jacob’s days through February 2027 have now been adopted. If you are reading this and have not adopted a “day of action,” please consider doing so now. [Adopt a Day] It is joyous to hear how people are leveraging Jacob’s unfortunate experience to help build a better world. We will get through this, with the love and support of so many. And when he gets out, we will slingshot into whatever comes next. In the meantime, driving a school bus is a lovely vocation, which leaves my energy and attention available to take care of my family. My gratitude is large.