Crime Doesn't Pay

It was pure coincidence the Minnesota and Wisconsin State Patrols posted this photo this morning prior to Vikings-Packers Border Battle this afternoon. But it was so appropriate, too.

While I was off at church dressed in my Game Day finest, our house was being vandalized!

Yup, as I rounded the curve into our neighborhood, I immediately noticed Mr. Skol Man had a scowl on his face and disgusting headgear. Who would do such a thing in our quiet little suburban neighborhood?!

Actually, plenty of people. But I had the suspects narrowed down to one or two. And before calling in the Border Battle CSI, I got it right the first guess. 

And while I pretended to take a bite out of the cheesehead, these lips did not touch it. And being the nice neighbor that I am, I returned it intact to Mr. M. across the street – and didn't even press charges. No worries, Mike, we'll take the W instead!

I tell ya, crime doesn't pay!

We did have a fun (but nerve-wracking time) watching the game at in a purple-friendly atmosphere at our friends' Sean and Michelle's place. A few Packer fans there, too, but purple prevailed in more ways than one. 

Again, always so stinkin' close when these two teams play. I'm not going to lie that selfishly we really enjoyed it. Especially seeing our team have their first 9-game winning streak since 1975. (Yep, hubby recalls how we lost and ended that streak.) And to see our QB reach a milestone with his 14 wins during his first season with the Vikes.

Now it's onto the Lions next week. Weird to think it felt like a playoff game today when the Packers, Vikings AND Lions are already playing in the REAL ones. Thankfully we have a week to recover. And get our heartbeats back to normal! Should be a fun post-season!

Why Can't People Be Nice?

After my lovely Mother's Day yesterday, it wasn't long before my world (cyberworld that is) came crumbling down. 

I got a message through Facebook from a friend I saw a few days ago that he wanted my phone number. Not unusual amongst us photographers. Then he asked what my email was for my Facebook account. Again, not unusual since he was going to share photos with me.

But is wasn't him. And it was too late when I figured it out.

Sh*t! Doesn't cover my feelings or response.

So I spent the late hours of last night and the early hours of today trying to gain control of my Facebook (and related social) accounts. While trying to work my normal full-time job. It was awful!

The worst part was knowing that people were thinking I needed help, wanted their phone number, or wanted to buy the dozens of things I had for sale. I felt so bad that they were exposed. While also realizing that my fake hacked friend had done the same to me.

Why can't people just be nice?!

I sure hope this is resolved so I can relax and just watch The Voice tonight. But, I think this might be a bit. In the meantime, if you get any weird message from me, ask how I know you and definitely ask which sports teams I cheer for! 

If you know, you know. And hopefully that's enough to protect you!

Hills and Valleys

Because I sold my Gardening for Dummies book at a garage sale a few years back, I have no concept of what's growing in my backyard after we cleared out the dead stuff. These just seemed to pop up after 24 hours rain!

Thanks to the Internet, now I know. These are Lily of the Valley. I always pictured something else when I was growing up and my mom loved that perfume. Wasn't thinking tiny, delicate white bells. But they sure are pretty!

And since I was looking them up, I also learned that along with being the birth flower for May, they also mean sweetness, a return of happiness, purity of heart, you made my life complete, and protection from evil spirits.

I love that! And it is what we need right now. Especially today.

So much negative news coming out of Minneapolis right now. Murder. Riots. Looting. Fires. Racial divide. Anger. Grief.

I'm not going to get on any soapbox, but I will say that watching the video of the police officer kneeling on the gentleman's neck while he was already cuffed and begging to breathe just made me want to puke. I have no right to speak about the incident or the community reaction. I'm just going to pray for understanding and kindness and, just like the Lily of the Valley symbolizes, a return to happiness and purity of heart.

God, help us all.

Make Love, Not War

In a sad twist of irony for Friday the 13th, the theme of inhumanity threaded its way through my day.

It began with a conversation with a Vietnam veteran. I was thanking him for his service and he responded with tragic tales of the non-welcome home he and thousands of other soldiers received. He said they were called names, yelled at, spit on... basically disrespected in every way.

"When I got home, I burned everything I had related to the war. My uniform, everything. We did not want people to know we had served in Vietnam. They hated us," he said. "And now they come home from Iraq and everyone's a hero. It should always have been that way."

I agree. And I always find it hard to digest the fact that people can hate. I mean really hate – to the level they don't care if they hurt someone, even strangers, emotionally or physically. They have no qualms about declaring their opinion through acts of cruelty. Senseless acts of cruelty.

Yes, "hate crimes" have been around forever.

Later in the morning, a friend of mine who was looking through newspapers on files at the library, shared a photo with a comment, "Birth day front page news – refugees in the Middle East; controversial police actions, terrorists. The more things change the more they stay the same..."

I told him "Those of us born in 1968 were obviously sent to bring joy to the world!" 

If we did accomplish that, it was short-lived and not far-reaching. Those were chaotic times marked with violence, assassinations, world unrest.  

Fast forward 47 years and we wonder what has changed.

Every time I hear of a beating, a shooting, a suicide bombing, anything like that, I just want to cry. Again? Why? Where is all this hatred coming from?

I should say, I am defining "hate" as extreme selfishness combined with a lack of humanity. People wanting their voices to be heard and not caring about the consequences. Not giving value to human life.

As the world watches the tragedy in France unfold, we are asking ourselves all of that again. And yet we still don't have answers.

But we do have that moment where we forget about our own problems and pause to pray for someone else. We may even think about them beyond a moment, beyond a day. We do that because we are human and we have a heart. We care. We want peace. And we value it.

And we value love.

Sending LOVE to our Germany "family" members and praying today's senseless acts of terrorism do not cross the border!

Visiting Hours

Admittedly, just about everything I know about prison life has been gleaned from movies and television – namely Shawshank Redemption and Orange Is The New Black. Probably not the best recipe to calm my nerves before heading to the Big House – make that, the Gigantic House – last evening.

Just to be clear, I was visiting. I have not been secretly naughty... except for having a heavily frosted piece of cake at each of the 3 graduation parties attended this weekend!

I was set to visit my nephew Tony, who is now a part of the Wisconsin prison system thanks to an alcohol-induced mistake last summer. He was sentenced in February to incarceration followed by a Department of Corrections treatment program followed by extended supervision, all totaling 8 years.

His first stop was Dodge Correctional, a maximum security facility in southeast Wisconsin, where they determine where to place inmates next for the long haul. Only his very immediate family could visit him there. Two weeks ago, he finally got transferred to Winnebago near Oshkosh, which is minimum security and allows up to a dozen names on the visitor list.

Since that is less than 90 minutes from us, Tony sent me an application right away. After a vigorous background check, they approved me as a visitor. I was both thrilled and nervous. I won't lie, after reading the dozens of strict rules for visitors, I was afraid I wouldn't make it past the first checkpoint.

At least my twin sister (Tony's mom) warned me that with the metal detectors, you can't even wear an underwire bra. So I wisely wore a sports bra but still didn't know if any metal (or fake metal) on my pants and shoes would set anything off. The rules clearly stated that a visitor would have 3 tries to get through the metal detector successfully or they can't visit.

There are Tuesday visiting hours from 6:30-8:30 so I drove over right from work, which is less than an hour from there. During the whole drive I envisioned getting stopped at a gate or tower before driving to a visitor parking lot. When I got to the town or village of Winnebago, I thought I was lost when I turned down the road and was driving past homes before I suddenly was there, making a left turn on a driveway that passed acres of a massive manicured lawn. Is this why they say minimum security is like the "country club"?

I parked and followed a crowd of what I hoped were other visitors, keeping in mind I needed to keep my mouth shut and, as the rules also clearly stated, do nothing to engage, acknowledge or interact with inmates roaming the grounds. Because seriously, this country club wasn't even a "gated community."

This was not at all like Shawshank or Litchfield!

Still, I was nervous about "getting through," even though all I was carrying was my driver's license and my car key. Didn't even have my wedding ring on – in case it set off the metal detector or the vast value of it made myself a "target" of some sort.

Oh yes, I do watch too much TV!

When I got to the front of the line, I handed over my visitor form and license and was asked Tony's ID number. Well I knew the first 3 digits from writing to him, but not the whole thing. I said, "Uhm... I know it's 602 something." The guard turns to the computer guard guy and says, "She says 'it's 602 something.'" And they both laugh. I quickly surmised that there were probably a good number of inmate ID's starting with 602. Thankfully (and logically, in my opinion), they could just look up his name.

When I was approved, they sent me up the stairs and into the visiting room (aka cafeteria). No metal detector.

Seriously?
W
I guess that is the difference between maximum and minimum. I also was allowed a nice hug in the beginning and end of our visit. And we sat across from each other at a small table. No plexiglass barrier. No talking through a phone. Very, very nice.

It really was so good to see him! I said I was there on behalf of his mom and a whole lotta people who love and miss him. I don't know how many times I said, "I can't tell you how much your mom really wishes she was the one visiting you!"

We had a very good visit. He looked good, much healthier than he has been. And he assured me he was safe. He wasn't anyone's "wife" or part of any gang. Hey, I had to ask on behalf of his worried mother, right? He said no one there is there because of a "violent" crime. Mainly alcohol- or drug-related charges.

He feels good about being there in particular, since they have a nice "front yard" on the shores of Lake Winnebago and can eventually earn work-release privileges, too. While a good chunk of their salary will go back to the prison for "room and board," the working inmates still can set some aside for their release fund and possibly learn a new skill while they're at it. Other than being 5 hours away from the rest of the family, it is the ideal place, we both agreed.

Two hours went very quickly. Other than not being able to buy him a Coke when he was thirsty (I was too nervous about carrying any money even though it was approved!), I behaved, followed the rules and did not call attention to myself.

Oh, and enjoyed myself too, as much as one can in such surroundings. While we have corresponded quite regularly through letters, this will be a nice alternative. I should be able to play "surrogate mom" at least once a month, playing it by ear with his work schedule once he reaches that step.

In the meantime, he would love some mail from family and friends! Feel free to reach out to him at:

      Winnebago Correctional Center
      Tony Soderquist #602705
      P.O. Box 219
      Winnebago, WI 54985-01287

He's a good kid who just made some bad choices. If nothing else, please pray for him and his determination to turn his life around!

There goes the neighborhood

We've had the strangest news story unfold around here over the past several days. If it wasn't actually happening, I'd think I was watching CSI-Wisconsin Rapids. Seriously. It is that bizarre.

It started out Saturday when a family reported their 23-year-old son never made it home after the fireworks the night before. He had been drinking so they didn't know if he became disoriented and passed out in the woods somewhere or, worse, the Wisconsin River. Hundreds of volunteers joined emergency personnel in the searching for 3 days. To no avail. The search was called off Tuesday morning. But things really changed later that day.

They changed when a different man, a 21-year-old reported missing earlier Tuesday, showed up on someone's porch -- naked, bloodied and bound in chains -- and told them to call the police.

The police say a 46-year-old man posed as a police officer, handcuffed and kidnapped both of these young men, stripped, beat and assaulted them while he had them chained in his basement and garage. Allegedly. Since I no longer work for the newspaper, I am free to pass judgment and say, "what a sicko!"

This is sad, really. The victims, who are the ages of some of my nephews, have some serious trauma to deal with. And the community, well, even though a lot of crap goes on behind closed doors that we don't hear about, the community is in shock that something like this could happen in our safe little town. There's a major freakout factor and some paranoia, naturally. How safe are we?

It only scares me because, as a parent, once again I am faced with the cold, hard truth that we can't always be there to protect our children. All we can do is pray God takes over in that department when they are more than arm's length away. I believe He will. In the meantime, I'll hug the stuffing out of Carter when I've got him. I don't care how embarrassed it makes him.

By the way, you can read the stories at the Daily Tribune Web site.