#21 Jail- Give Send Go

Every night the prisoners sing the national anthem at a specific time that people gather outside of the jail and also sing the national anthem. I think it was the mother of Ashli Babbitt, and I believe a wife of one of the prisoners that started the vigil.  I spoke to that woman today. She was a huge support and offered to help us with some resources they have for families with prisoners in the J6 pod. She had suggested I set up a Give Send Go account, I thought I would share it here. Please don't feel any pressure, I know it’s the holidays and it’s rough for a lot of people right now: GiveSendGo - Johnatakis Family Help: The Leader in Freedom Fundraising.

Tonight I’m grateful for the conditions at the jail that have greatly improved over the last two years. I remember reading horror stories in the news about “the DC Gulag” and terrible conditions and treatment of the prisoners. This is a scene I have been so unfamiliar with my whole life. My heart tonight goes out to all prisoners everywhere and their families. It’s a part of humanity that we pay little attention too. God, please watch over the prisoner.

#20 Jail- J6 pod

 Yesterday was Taylor’s birthday. He sounded so much better yesterday. They have moved him to the J6 pod in the jail where he can be out of his cell for a lot longer during the day. Frank, from his first day in jail, is there and it was so nice to see him again.  He’s got a small window facing northwest, where he can see the sky and was able to see the sunset this evening. He said it had gorgeous reds and purples, it was beautiful  

His toilet is separate from the sink and he has a desk in his cell. In the evening all the prisoners in the pod sang The Star Spangled Banner together- it feels so much safer and I’m so glad he was moved yesterday. 

What a gift. 

#19 The Story- Chapter 3

My parents met in highschool when my mom had moved to Boise from a small town in eastern Idaho, named Arco. While in Arco, her dad was a potato farmer and was very involved in their community and local politics. Their family (and a lot of our ancestry) were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Grandpa and Grandma had served in many church positions, life really revolved around church, community and family.  Grandpa served in the Idaho State Senate and State House of Representatives, he had been instrumental in bringing electricity to Arco. 

My mom lived across the driveway from her Grandmother and had a lot of family that lived in the area. Isn’t that nice? Why did we ever move away from that model (living by family) as a society? I know why, but I wonder what we have lost in doing so…. I’ve often wished we could revert back to that. They had a large garden and a few farm animals. They were pretty self-sufficient there in the Lost River Valley- pretty cool. 

Eventually my Grandmother’s health got so bad that they needed to move to a bigger city to be able to get her the medical help that she needed.  Mom’s  family moved to a neighborhood close to where my dad lived and ended up going to the same church ward (congregation) and the same high school. 

In high school my parents were both involved in music and sang in the same choir at Capitol High. My dad was athletic and my mom was a cute little cheer leader.  So cute! They were good friends in high school and occasionally dated. After high school my dad left for a 2-year LDS mission to the Philippines and mom went to Brigham Young University, where I think she studied Early Childhood Education- I know it was something to do with children and teaching- I’ll have to ask her. After two years my dad came back and made his way to Provo, Utah also to study at Brigham Young University. It didn’t take long before the two got married and started our soon to be large family. They’ve got some funny dating stories…maybe I’ll come back to those another time. 

Life took them a few different places, but by the time I was born they had moved to Merced, California where my dad started working with his dad, in a company that his dad started called Triangle Bar. I think they installed fancy gates on ranches. My dad had graduated with a Chemical Engineering degree, but his job there would need none of that schooling. His degree would eventually help qualify him for a different job he would get in Boise, years later. 

I was born September 1st, the 5th child of what would eventually be eight kids. Eight kids now seems like a big number, but it never seemed too big to me. 

When I was born I was a really fussy baby because of constant ear infections, causing terrible pain in my ears. Eventually I ended up getting tubes put in my ears. Stories have it that I would beg for “my plugs” whenever I wanted to swim or play in the water, which seemed to be pretty often, California weather allowed for that. 

When I was around two my mom found me passed out on our lawn. I had found a trash straw in our yard and drank some gasoline from the lawn mower. My poor mom found me…I was rushed to the hospital and had my stomach pumped- I don’t remember much of being little, and I don’t think I was a particularly difficult kid, but sounds like there were some exciting moments. Maybe the lack of memory was due to the gas…maybe a good excuse, anyway. 

I don’t remember much of Merced. I started Kindergarten there and would only get through half of the year before we would move to Boise, Idaho. I do remember that my Carlson Grandparents lived near us.  My uncle, who still lived with my grandparents, had this giant snake in his room, which was a sun room off the main house.I couldn’t figure out why he would ever keep such a large snake so close to where he was sleeping! Creepy

 My grandma was a fancy lady and had grown up relatively wealthy.  I remember her not wanting us to touch much in her home, and we had to stay pretty quiet (which wasn’t something us siblings did well - personalities in our family were not subdued). One thing that I loved about her home was that she had the cutest decorations and lots of knick knacks. At Christmas time her home was full of Christmas villages, white lights under fake snow, Santa clause, reindeer, snowmen decorations and of course multiple nativity scenes. My grandpa was so sweet, but I didn’t get to know him very well, until years later when they lived with us in Boise.  He was an amazing man and I’m so glad I got to connect with him before he passed.  

Grandpa was a veterinarian in his younger years and for one of his hobbies enjoyed molding things like silver into jewelry. I remember him making spur book end supports, earrings, bracelets and all kinds of beautiful items. When my grandparents ended up living with our family later in life, my dad built him a shop where he would work for hours, he had the coolest machines in there. One fond memory I have is of him coming back from his shop across the grass in our yard. He passed a tree that grabbed his cowboy hat as he passed under it. A couple steps later he stops, feels his head and looks super confused. Me and my sisters watched from the kitchen sliding glass door, we thought that was so hilarious. 

#18 Jail- 72 hours

 72 hours he was in his cell. 72 hours. 

There was a guy that wanted him to do a three-way call, so he could use Taylor’s call to ask his girlfriend for some money. It’s against the rules to do a three-way call, and calling privileges can be taken away if that is violated. Tay tried to gently tell him he couldn’t do it, the man wasn’t happy about that and a fight ensued. PJ, a friend that Taylor had met while there, helped calm the man down. He told Taylor not to tell the police what happened- it could mean more trouble. 

A cell mate friend, Frank, that he had the first day called me today. He is at the same place Taylor will be moved to, which he assured me was so much better. I passed that information along to Taylor, that he would get a tooth brush and more food and a new clean cup. He cried. How simple those things are, but it means so much under the circumstances 

He was able to get another book, this one is about Buddha- I think he’s going to love the book, I’m excited to hear about that.

PJ, the guy who helped him, has been in the prison system ever since he was young, he’s in his 30’s now. It sounds like his first offense was something smaller, but he’s had parole violation after parole violation. He gets out in the next couple of days, with no parole. They talked for some time about the man’s plans, he wants to start a business, but has no family or anyone for support. Taylor gave him a friend’s number that he could get ahold of, to help as a sort of a mentor when PJ gets out. They talked about some books, Taylor had suggested he read, “Think and Grow Rich” and some other goodies. 

Tonight I’m so thankful for PJ.

It’s Taylor’s birthday today, he turned 40.

The kids and I are struggling. I’m so grateful for my children. We’ve had some hard conversations, but we have all decided that this is going to make us closer and stronger as a family. I’m grateful for so much help from my parents and Taylor’s parents. They have been such a huge support for us. 

I’m trying to surrender. Not give up, but not worry so much. My sweet sister in law sent me a weighted blanket, a sort of long distance hug. I’m so blessed. 

#17 Jail - Monticello and Gettysburg

 He didn’t call today and I wonder if he is okay. That’s very sad. 

I had made a list of al the people that had sent messages for him- he would have enjoyed hearing about that. Yesterday was a hard day for him, I hope he is okay. Too many hours locked up alone. 

Nights are the worst. Too many things to worry about. There’s a book called “The Surrender Experiment”, by Michael Singer. Amazing book… being present has been something I have had to remind myself to be throughout much of my life, but after the mental note to myself, it didn’t seem that hard to do. This time is different. I realize that much of my angst is not serving me… but there are so many things to worry about, I just can’t seem to let them go. I’m going to have to take that up in prayer.

 Thank goodness for the life line.

Trial week: Taylor’s trial started with a hearing, then jury selection and then the actual trial. He arrived on a Tuesday, had a few days in court, and then got to spend the weekend driving around to some of the sites near the Washington DC area. His first stop was Monticello. He was fascinated by Thomas Jefferson. He, being such a history buff, enjoyed everything he saw there and was fascinated with the differences in personality, homes, home decor and styles from that of George Washington’s, at Martha’s Vineyard. (which he was able to visit when visiting DC for a different hearing). The next day he spent at Gettysburg. He said it was so sobering and grounding.  I wish I could remember everything he said and all the things he loved and found fascinating about the places… he has such fun and great insights.

Taylor was a Political Science major in college, which he received a Bachelor’s Degree for. It always amazed me that before January 6th he had never been to the east coast to see so many places which he knew so much about. I always imagined he would love visiting all the historical sites, and of course he did. 

#16 Jail- The butterfly and the snake

Tonight he watched while cell after cell was being let out for rec time. They get one hour a day out of the cell, and it looked like they were going to forget him tonight. 

He was finally let out. He called. I'm always anxiously waiting his calls. I start waiting around 4, tonight he was able to get his first call through at 5:44. The science book on Alchamy has turned out to be a huge disappointment, but he was able to secure another book for tomorrow, a book that another inamte was just finishing up. He was ablel to call twice tonight. In between calls I googled "how to not go crazy when you are in a jail cell".  Never would I have ever thought that that would be something that I would search out. 

Why are there not an abundance of books in jail? 

He has a stainless steel water fountain that doubles as a toilet. When the cold water gets turned on it doesn't stop for 45 minutes. He has gotten used to drinking hot water, because the sound of the water running gets really irritating. 

Another day goes by- I wonder when this will get easier?

I recently read a book that talked about a butterfly and a snake. A person went up to a mountainside and a butterfly landed on her shoulder. She wanted so badly for the butterfly to stay. That same woman saw a snake the next day and was scared and tried to hit it away. The day after, the woman saw a rope on the road that reminded her of the snake.  She immediately felt a jolt of fear as she remembered the snake she had seen the day before.  Both reactions to the butterfly and to the snake were reactions that would cause her harm. The lasting impression of the snake made it so she avoided other things that reminded her of the snake. The longing for the butterfly to be on her shoulder, made it so everytime she went to the beautiful mountainside she couldn't help but feel disappointment because she wanted the butterfly to come back and fly on her shoulder. Both things were making it so she couldn't enjoy the present moment.

 It's a good reminder- even though its hard to implement sometimes.

#15 The Story- Chapter 2

 Boise was an amazing place to grow up.  Saturday mornings in the summer you would see beautifully colored hot air balloons that would line the horizon above the city center. The little zoo, museum, paddle boats,  and the rose garden in the downtown area were magical, and we loved enjoy all of that.  There was a walking path that runs through downtown, connecting a few of the major parks, called the Green Belt.  It would often be lined with geese, which we would bring bread to feed. We loved walking the paths over the Boise river and under main roads. Our family enjoyed the women’s fitness run in the spring and Festival of the Trees in the winter. 

My home was in a cozy neighborhood, where I knew many of my neighbors. One of our neighbors, Dutch, was an old fellow who lived just around the corner.  I often went to his house with Rachel, my younger sister. When we got there he always had some sort of little treat, small sized perfume bottles or travel size something or another. Merleen lived a few doors down from Dutch and we would often pass her on our bikes while she was outside gardening. The Huckstpes had the coolest back yard feature, that was a life size cave, the Maxi's had horses that I would often ride with my friend Cary around the neighborhood. I loved her pony Patches. There are so many other families, the Bryants and Fletchers (where my best friend lived), the Burnhams and the Graybills. I know I'm missing so many, but they were all part of this lovely neighborhood. There were empty lots that we would cut through, and often came home with a goat head or two stuck in our tires. We filled our time with things like bike riding, playing in the yard, 4H, night games, kick the can, bonfires, volleyball, sleepovers on the trampoline.  I  remember so many afternoons, walking to the Mav (Maverick gas station) that was just down the hill from our home. 

The lots in my neighborhood were all about 1 acre, which left the homes with large yards for us kids to play in. Many of the lots had pastures with an occasional  goat or sheep or chickens roaming, and of course we had a neighborhood “cat lady”. One year we borrowed a neighbor’s pasture and raised sheep in a 4h club for the fair. My brother Sam and I raised our two lambs at the same time. We took our lambs on walks through the neighborhood on dog leashes. Sometimes the lambs would get stubborn and just stop. We would pinch their tails to get them to go, but it was still hard to convince them. They were pretty stubborn little animals. Not soon after I got my lamb he had gotten sick and I stayed with him for hours in the pasture. I loved my lamb and was so excited to participate in the fair with him. During the fair we paraded our lambs in a large circle around a pen surrounded by an arena. This is where the lambs were judged and then were auctioned off to thier new owners. My lamb was smaller than all the other lambs and didn’t win any ribbons, but I did get a ribbon, I don’t remember what, probably some participation consolation. No one bought my lamb at the auction, so we brought him home until someone else could purchase him. A man my dad worked with ended up buying my beloved lamb, and I was so pleased. A couple weeks later my brother and I got into a fight and he yelled out, “I killed your lamb!”.This is when my brother cruelly taught me about the fate of my dear lamb that I had raised. I had no clue that the lamb was being sold to be eaten. Looking back, I’m not sure how I missed that! 

#14 Jail- Thanksgiving

 It's acutally the day after Thanksgiving, but I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough last night to write. I was able to sleep last night. No panic attacks.  That was nice.

It was so good to talk to him yesterday. Our conversation was for about 15 minutes, and it was pure therapy. He called again two other times, Western Union, for 5 minutes, and that was also a huge gift.

They are treating him well. He is in a cell for 23 hours and gets out for an hour to make phone calls and shower. He got a turkey slice for lunch and saved his slice of pumpkin pie so he could eat it tonight in his cell. The day before he found a book lying around and asked the guard if he could have it. It is called "The Deep South", by Richard Grant. He had already read it once through and was about half way through the second time when he saw somone else holding a book.  He asked if he wanted to swap. Turns out the new book is more a scienc book and is pretty dry. I don't think the swap was as good as he had hoped, but I think he is happy to have anything to help his mind. This reminds me of the book by Louis L'Amore, "The Education of a Wondering Man". It's Louis's life story and focuses alot on books and writing. He was a hobo and would make his way through the country by train. The hobos would pass around books they would find and he read a lot of books by way of coming and going. Taylor kind of reminds me of Louis L'Amore in a way. The guy consumes so much literature and information. He loves to visit people and places. It's one of the things I love about him. 

He had planned out how his night and next day would go. He would hopefully be able to fall asleep to the book, be woken up for breakfast at 5am, hopefull go back to sleep after that until lunch.  It's lonely in the cell, and he's hoping he can pass the time the easiest way possible.

 He is in good spirits. He had mentioned Victor Frankl and how he was hoping to take this opportunity, that neither of us thought we would ever have, and use it for our good.  "I'm free in my mind...they can't take that away from me". I knew he would look at this situation like this. Some people are hardened by experienes like this...never Taylor. It's probably the thing that is the most comforting. 

He asked about the kids, even thought that when he got to a different unit he might be able to help homeschool them.  That sounds lovely. 

What do we do without our Taylor??

#13 The story- Chapter 1

 Chapter 1

I’m 42 now and the summer windstorms in Boise are something I still miss. I danced around our yard with the thick grass smooshed between my toes. I could sing as loud as I wanted and my voice would carry on the wind. The air was warm and there was a beautiful energy to it. The home that I spent most of my growing up years was a three story home on an acre of flat land. When we moved there I was seven and my parents would stay there until I was in my late 30’s. We spent Saturdays gardening, fixing up the lawn, building the various decks that would dress the backyard. My dad brought in sand and made a huge sand area that eventually housed a homemade tree house, with a slide that was so steep, every time you went down you wouldn’t know if you would skid out on your rear end a couple of feet or tumble forward.

 We built a metal shed, fire pit, volleyball court and eventually a beautiful shop, where my Grandpa would do his leatherworking. My dad did everything himself (I mean didn’t hire out at all), and in my eyes he could do anything. I spent hours by his side, handing him tools and holding one end of the measuring tape. There were work projects inside of our home too. The night before we would smash a wall out with our hammers we got to draw all over the wall. The next day we would wake up to some sort of encouraging music, a good breakfast and then we would get to work. 

We painted, scraped popcorn off the ceilings, replaced cabinets and about everything else you can think of. After quite a few years my dad ended up adding an addition onto our home, where his parents would finish their time on earth. This meant a lot of other projects and provided an amazing opportunity to get to know my Carlson grandparents better. 

Why doesn’t family live close together, like it used to be? I think it should be that way.

Years later, when my parents sold the home, I wondered if it hurt so bad because we had put so much into that home. We had all the sweet family memories too, the home really felt like it was part of our family.  When I walked through their home for the last time, the emotions came flooding in. Years of so many sweet memories and hard work, had all made this a beautiful home. I was surprised that the selling their home was as hard as it was. 

My neighborhood had wide streets and familiar faces. Around fourteen years old I loved to walk circles around my neighborhood with my sweet friend in the late night. Jen lived just around the block, and her and I would walk for hours and talk about all the mysteries of life :), because of course we knew all the mysteries of life. I don’t think I could ever count how many late night walks we went on, and definitely not how many hours we spent on those walks. After we circled our neighborhood multiple times we would end up standing by her car and just talking for so long. My mom would flicker the front porch light, to signal me to come in and her to go home. It was just so hard to end our conversations. Anne of Green Gables has the best description, she was a bosom friend and I’m so grateful we found each other. After we graduated and went to college and off on our different ways, every once and a while,  we would end up in Boise on the same weekend. If that happened we would never let the weekend pass without at least one reminiscent late night walk to catch up on all the things.  Even after so many years had passed, my mom would still flicker on and off the lights when our walks would run us late into the night. All three of us thought that was awesome and got a laugh out of it. It was in Jen’s car I learned how to drive a stick shift.  Circling the neighborhood and countless church parking lots. Jen would be a dear friend forever, a sort of an anchor for me.

That's all for tonight. I'm tired. My mind is still and my heart is...I don't even know. Goodnight

#12 Jail

 Taylor called again and again. My cell phone wouldn't let the call ring through. It finally came through and I had to put money on the call- I could hear his voice, saying it was Taylor calling. Putting money on his account made the call drop again. By this time Bensen and Fisher were out on the deck with me, trying to get good reception- my reception is so crappy in my home. He finally called back.  Too many dropped calls. He had one minute left when I was able to finally get through. One minute is not enough. Fisher told him he loved him and sobbed. 

He is cold and in a cell by himself- a COVID cell. Just give him a damn test. Confining him to a cell alone- it makes me sick. The call was so rushed. It was expensive. It was Western Union. How is their system so archaic, it's like no one really cares. I mourn for the broken, for the enslaved, for the captives. Not just where Taylor is, but everywhere. Humanity. This is a side that I have never had a glimpse of. 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving- no calls on Thanksgiving-OH, MY TAYOR! Please, God help him.

#11 Invictus-I needed this

Invictus 

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

#10 The Story- Intro

 I think writing helps me so much. I've taught a writing class for the last three years to quit a few homeschool high school students. I never really had the patience for writing. I love to converse. But, this is so helpful right now. 

I started an audobiography not too long ago. Maybe its so I don't forget. Maybe its so the richness of a life so,so blessed can be remembered. So I can always be grateful.

Damn these words. They just aren't sufficient. Words rarely are. Anyway, I think I'll try. 

# ? who even knows-I am broken

 How do you heal a broken heart? Nights are the most haunting. I keep waking up from this nightmare to find the nightmare paralyzing my soul worse awake than when I am asleep. 

OH TAYLOR, I love you so much. It breaks my heart to think of you alone in a cell.  I scream out to God to help you. My heart is so broken. How does a person breathe when you the one who means everything to you? I know my world will go on- and I do love life, but I almost don't want the pain to go away because its the feeling right now that is real. I do want it to go away, the anxiety is killing me, but I love you so much, I can't let go. 

My sobs woke Elise up tonight. She held me and I couldn't help but think that I should be holding her.  What of the pit in your stomach that never seems to be consoled? We prayed together tonight. A mother comforted by her daughter. It really is a beautiful thing. Why are my children so good? I ache for them. 

Thank God for some relief. 

It's so hard.

#8 No sleep for the weary and no good byes

 Here I am again. The luxury of writing to share my thoughts has been one that I have not enjoyed for quit some time. It seems that it is more of a therapy than something to entertain myself or others. And so tonight I call on that therapy again.  I put it out here in hopes that it can help heal my heart and possibly be of use to someone out there. Maybe something good can come from the ramblings of a broken hearted mother and wife.  At the least it may help me release enough to go to sleep.  

Taylor was found guilty today (well it would be yesterday technically) of all the charges filed against him. Honestly, I can’t even remember how many there are. January 6th was a hard day for all involved, even for those watching on the TV. The prosecution had requested he be remanded into custody and the judge gave the order. I think all of that is the proper way of saying it….There were no good byes or buttoning things up. All we had was an abrupt silence, an entire country’s distance away. The most important person to me and more importantly the most important person to my children is gone.

It’s just so sad  

We have had our fair share of difficulties and I’ve been grateful to be on the flip side of those. It’s a relief to look back and see how the things that have been the most difficult have molded us into something we could have never been. It’s fulfilling to see the struggles that have been overcome. But, in the midst of possibly our greatest struggle it’s hard to imagine any resput. Never would I have ever imagined that this experience would be one that I would have to enjoy. I’ve thought a couple times in the past two years, that this is easier than losing our sweet little Destin, but I’m not sure that that is true. It’s probably because it’s 2 in the morning and I have no perspective, but this seems so difficult. Today I watched my 11 year old curl into a ball and sob. I had no answers for him. How long would dad be gone or when would he see him again. I had nothing. My oldest two have been trying to keep it together, but I fear the reservation I’m seeing will come back to haunt us. The two littlest are their happy little selves. How it breakers my heart to think of them without their dad, for who knows how long. 

 It’s Thanksgiving soon.  This world isn’t a stranger to suffering. This is nothing compared to the experiences of so many who have lived before. Israel and the Gaza Strip are in shambles and there are children and people suffering so much more there than I am. My heart aches for the imbalance in the world and in our hearts.

There is so much good out there, and I would be remiss to not thank God for the blessings we have received these past few years, but this is hard.