The Job Search

Anyone who has looked for a job in the last few years knows that the process of finding one, and actually getting hired, is not easy.  Add a federal offense to your resume and the process just got harder.

After five straight days of job searching and application submitting, Heidi was feeling discouraged.  No one had called her for an interview.  She wants to move out of the halfway house as soon as possible, but without a job, that’s not going to happen.

Last Friday evening while sitting down to dinner, my grandparents got a telephone call.  It was a local fast food restaurant that Heidi had submitted an application with that day.  They wanted her to come in for an interview the next day.  My grandpa told them that she’d be there.  My grandma called Heidi at the halfway house to let her know the good news.

Saturday morning, my grandpa went to pick up Heidi to take her to the interview.  She was only inside the restaurant for 20 minutes, and when she came out, she had a smile on her face.  They offered her the job, and she took it.

For the uniform, she was required to buy black pants and black shoes.  Luckily, she has a giving family that’s willing to help her, or else buying those things with the little money she left prison with might have been tough.

Heidi started the job this past Monday, and while she is so happy and thankful to have gotten it, the type of work is really not what she hoped for.  She plans on continuing to work there while looking for something better.  I just hope that she doesn’t do what I’ve done in the past: quit a job I didn’t like before I secured other employment.  If she wants to get out of that house, she needs to stick it out.

 

A Halfway Thanksgiving

We pulled into the parking lot at 1pm on Thanksgiving Day.  A sign reserving a parking spot “For Buicks Only” hung on the white, cinderblock building.  My grandparents drive a Buick LeSabre - it’s as if they were expecting us.  They were.  We had to call ahead and notify them of who would be coming to visit Heidi.  It was all family; seven of us.

Out back were a group of smokers.  All were residents of the halfway house and all looked, sadly, too young to be there.  They watched as Heidi, one of the oldest in the house, walked outside to greet us, her tears immediately flowing.  To be able to hug family again was something she had long desired.

Directly inside was the reception area and a small gathering room that contained the one and only resident telephone.  We showed our IDs, handed over our purses, cell phones, and cameras, and were led into another gathering room, the TV room, where we were allowed to sit and visit.

The TV room, furnished in cheap, office waiting room furniture, was neither inviting nor comfortable.  Posted were the TV room rules, and rearranging the furniture was the number one offense.  We did it anyways, creating a circle with the chairs.  I have never been to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, but given the setting and the conversation, that’s what it felt like.

Heidi talked about being clean and her determination to stay that way.  She talked about the treatment and drug education she received, and her desire to become involved with drug rehabilitation programs in the area, helping and counseling others who want to be clean, too.

She also informed us of all the rules she has to follow while at the halfway house, rules that to most, would seem like prison.  But she’s not in prison; she’s free.  Free to go to a movie or walk to a store.  As long as she lists that movie and store on her daily itinerary and is back by curfew.  She is also free to start looking for a job, and in order to live with my grandparents in six months, that’s something she must have.  Fortunately, other people at the halfway house have told her that Coeur d’Alene is relatively “felon friendly” when it comes to hiring.

Heidi couldn’t join us for our Thanksgiving feast – she’s only allowed to visit public places – but they did serve the traditional meal at the halfway house earlier in the day.  We had considered bringing her a plate of desserts but it’s a good thing we didn’t.  Rule number two posted in the TV room:  All food brought in must be store-bought and in its sealed, original wrapping.  All rules to help keep her clean.

Our visit only lasted a little over an hour, but it was a Thanksgiving none of us will forget.  I’m confident that next year, she’ll be at our house with us.

She’s Out

It’s 7:50 pm – Heidi has officially been in Coeur d’Alene, out from behind bars, for 24 hours.

I will see her on Saturday.

My Sister Cousin

In 1990, a decade before Heidi was incarcerated, she gave birth to a little girl.  Her name was Kayla, and she was born on my birthday.  I remember my mom picking me up from elementary school and telling me that I got a new baby cousin as a present.  I loved babies.

Today, Kayla does not exist.  Her name is Emily now, and she’s no longer my cousin.  She’s my youngest sister, and has been for 21 years.

Heidi received no prenatal care during her pregnancy with Emily, and while in the hospital giving birth, she was screened for drugs and alcohol.  Both were present in her system.  Emily was an instant orphan, taken by the state of California.

My parents started the adoption process immediately.  She was officially ours almost two years later.

Once Emily was old enough, my parents shared the story of her adoption, and by that time, Heidi was already serving her 14-year sentence.  A few years later, Emily went to visit her birth mother in prison for the first time, and they started exchanging letters on a regular basis.

For the past year, though, Emily and Heidi have only been talking every couple of months, and she no longer calls her “Mom” like she did in her younger years.  Emily is happy for Heidi; happy that she got the treatment she needed and happy that she’ll be out of prison.  But she is scared about what it will to do her family, the family that raised her.  To all of a sudden have two mothers living next door to each other (literally) – I can’t even imagine.  Emily wants to have a relationship with Heidi, and Heidi wants a relationship with her.  But no one wants to hurt the feelings of my mom, the mom that was there for Emily from day one. 

In an E-mail from Heidi the other day, she said to me, ”Transitioning back into our family is not going to be a piece of cake, but I’m willing to do whatever I have to do to prove myself again.”  I am glad that she knows it won’t be easy, because there are definitely those who will be welcoming her with hesitant arms, myself included.  I have a very close relationship with my mom, of course the last thing I want is for her to be hurt.

Although the details surrounding Emily’s adoption are sad, I am thankful that she is still a part of my family, an even closer part.  She is my cousin by blood, but my sister by love.  My six-year-younger twin.

Things we take for granted

I have exchanged several e-mails with my inmate aunt over the last few days, and luckily, she is more than willing to share the story of her “past, crazy life.”  Because I cannot imagine what it would be like to be removed from society for so long and then thrown back into it, I first wanted to know how she feels about being released: what she is most excited about and what she’s scared of.

Her fears, surprisingly, do not match the fears my mother has about her release.  Heidi is confident in her ability to live a clean life, thanks to the intense rehabilitation and drug treatment program she completed.  She is most afraid of finding a job and driving again, just fitting back into society in general.  It’s hard enough to find a job in this economy, let alone with a federal offense on your record, so that one I understand.  Driving a car, though?  It’s like riding a bike.  Or at least that’s what I told her.

First on her list of excitements: being with family, of course.  She said, “When you lose everything, you figure out what is really important to you, and that for me is my family.”  Everything else on her list, though, are things that we, as free people, take for granted.  Things such as picking out what clothes you want to wear, going outside to watch a sunset, sleeping in a bed with nice sheets, and eating what you want, when you want.  She is also thrilled to sit on a chair with soft cushions because, “It’s all plastic and metal in here.”  Have you ever dreamt about what it would be like to sit in a comfy chair again?  I haven’t.  Unfortunately, her first “comfy” chair will be the airplane seat on her flight from Minneapolis to Spokane.

These things she is excited about, things I often consider trivial, really make me appreciate my freedom and my ability to make choices.

A little background

On November 5, 2001, Heidi Alexander, my aunt, was sentenced to 14 and a half years in federal prison.  The charge:  transporting a motorhome full of marijuana across several state lines.  In the motorhome were also two accomplices and her three-year-old son, a cousin I’ll never know.

Because of time served prior to sentencing, completion of a drug program, and maintaining good behavior,  Heidi will be a free woman on November 22, 2011.  Well, almost free.

She will be required to stay at a halfway house for a period of time still unknown.  The house is in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where her parents and sister’s family live; my family.

There are mixed emotions surrounding her release.  Heidi is elated and cannot wait to live her life again.  Her parents, my 87-year-old grandparents, are joyful that their youngest daughter will be home.  And my mother, her older sister, realizes that there’s always the chance she could fall back into old ways.

Today I was granted access to E-mail a federal prisoner through CorrLinks, and tomorrow I will be sending the first message to Heidi - I haven’t spoken to her in years.  I’ve never been so nervous about a written communication, especially because I’ll be asking her to share so much.