150. Earning Freedom (15.4), by Michael Santos

Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term by Michael Santos

 

Chapter 15.3

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     It’s Wednesday, April 18, 2012 and I received the most amazing book during mail call.  It’s so impressive, The Oxford Handbook of Sentencing and Corrections, edited by Professor Joan Petersilia, who is the Adelbert H. Sweet Professor of Law at Stanford Law School, and Kevin R. Reitz, who is the James Annenberg La Vea Professor of Criminal Procedure at the University of Minnesota Law School.  The 764-page book includes contributions from many authors who wrote individual chapters on various subjects pertaining to sentencing and corrections in America’s massive prison system.  My face beams with pride when I turn to chapter 25 and I see the words I wrote more than three years ago, describing the life I’ve lived since 1987.

I don’t know how to describe the honor I feel that Professor Petersilia invited me to write about my experiences.  I’m a prisoner, after all, and yet by including my work I’m in the company of some of the world’s leading scholars who hold distinguished positions in some of the world’s leading universities.  To show my appreciation, I will read each chapter and publish a review to describe what I learned from those who contributed.

There isn’t anyone here with whom I can share my joy, but inside, I feel a liberating gratification, giving me a sense that some meaning has come from this long journey.  It’s a journey that is coming to an end, as I have news that I’m scheduled to transition from the Atwater federal prison camp to the San Francisco halfway house on August 13, 2012.

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It’s July 1, 2012, the last full month that I’m going to serve in federal prison.  I have 9,091 days of prison behind me, only 44 days of prison ahead.  From the beginning I’ve been exercising very hard, but I’ve been waiting for this month for decades, always intending to exercise harder during my final month than ever before.  After all, it’s the last full month in my life that I’ll have to focus exclusively on exercise.  I’m determined to run 500 miles during the month.  In addition, I’ll do 10,000 pushups and 4,000 dips. The intense workout will quell this steady surge of anticipation that has been building for months.

Carole has already made the move to Lee’s guesthouse and she secured a job at a Bay area hospital.  As crazy as it may sound, I know that my life is one of many blessings, but more than anything else, I cherish the relationship I’ve built with my wife.  We’re both indescribably excited about the prospects of building our lives together.  Despite the love, enthusiasm, and anticipation inside of me, however, I have a measure of anxiety as well.

For 25 years I’ve been a prisoner, living in the midst of men, strangers.  Privacy has not been a part of my life.  I don’t know how to eat with metal silverware or off of ceramic plates.  I’ve not had a drink from a glass since 1987, nor have I taken a shower without wearing flip-flops.  We’re in our 10th year of marriage, but my wife and I have only known each other under the bright lights of prison visiting rooms, always under the watchful eyes of vigilant prison guards.

I don’t have any idea about the magnitude of change that is about to come my way, but I know that it’s coming.  Running these long distances helps to dissipate the anxiety, but I can’t help thinking about how I’ll react to the changes that are about to come.  I don’t worry about earning a living or financial matters, as I’ve prepared well for those challenges.

My anxieties are of a more primal nature.  For instance, I dwell for hours at a time about how I’m going to muster the courage to poop in front of my wife.  Will she kick me out of bed if she hears me pass gas?  I don’t have any idea on how I’m going to handle these complexities of domesticity, but I know that I can count on Carole to help me.  She just doesn’t yet kno