Editor:
I wish to share a joke I heard the other day about a pastor that was out walking in the woods. A bear caught him and had him in a bear-hug, squeezing the life out of him. Not knowing what else to do, the pastor started praying, “God, please make this bear a Christian.” All of a sudden, the bear let loose of him. He turned around and saw the bear just standing there. Then the bear crossed his paws, bowed his head and said, “Lord, please bless this food of which I am about to partake.”
Somewhat corny, but a little funny anyway. I guess the message is that sometimes there might be conflicting prayers, so God cannot always answer everyone to our liking. We just have to trust in the fact that Jesus loves us and wants the best for us! God does answer prayers. Sometimes not like we think that he will though.
I try to “Keep the Faith” through all of my trials and tribulations. It’s hard sometimes keeping a positive attitude when I have to go through some heavy stuff. James 1:2-4 and James 1:12 talk a lot about going through trials and how trials develop perseverance. It also talks about a man being blessed by persevering under trials.
There is another important by-product of living through difficult circumstances: we acquire knowledge of how to deal with the circumstance that we can then pass on to others in order to help them through difficult times. 2 Cor. 1:3-4 talks about this. I think that God wants to use us right where we are to reach out and touch the lives of other human beings and help them. Lord knows that “He” has helped all of us down here in so many ways! We just need to try to have the attitude of Christ in all that we do.
George Thornton
North Block

Editor:
California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation has thrown a screwball at the Vocational Landscaping program at San Quentin. This leaves me and other inmates in the familiar place of incompleteness once again.
I came to San Quentin Nov. 23, 2010 as a Close B inmate who has never been allowed the opportunity to partake in any PIA or vocational trade.
The Board of Prison Hearings has told me to get two vocational trades, participate in self-help groups, and drug prevention programs (AA, NA). I have completed Addiction Recovery Counseling (ARC), as well as a few other self-help programs.
I’m currently in Patten College Program, Golden Gate Baptist Theological Seminary classes, and Vocational Landscaping.
To take away the Vocational Landscaping would be a big loss to the men in the class, as well as myself.
This class teaches nurturing and the only way we are able to do that is with love — love that a few of us didn’t have growing up, or pushed away because of our addictions. This class has the ability to provide myself and others a core curriculum aimed at not just improving an inmates knowledge in landscaping skills while incarcerated, but allows all races and creeds to work together in a way that isn’t usually done in a prison setting.
We’re all in hopes of returning to society one day, and with this trade, I feel I have an opportunity to obtain legitimate employment.
If included at all 33 California prisons, inmates could grow trees, flowers and use recycled materials to do the landscaping at all state buildings. Using inmate labor would provide a savings to the state and still provide rehabilitation. Vocational Landscaping is a vital part of rehabilitation and should be saved at all cost. If rehabilitation is a goal of the Department of Correction, then Vocational Landscaping is a very effective and cost efficient.
Calvin Johnson
North Block

Editor:
Marvin Ellison’s Hood Kingpin (Everybody Wants To Shine) threw so much back into my face. We know the “War on Drugs” is just another form of institutional racism. It’s been tucked safely away within the very laws that are meant to protect us, or should I say society, because the war on drugs is focused on “us.”
One thing I’ve learned is that finger pointing will do nothing to convince our black brothers and sisters to put down the crack-pipe and dope sack. Like many others, I’ve also contributed to the failure and regression of our people. A sympathetic attitude alone cannot inject a new way of thinking … that will turn their lives around and make them a productive part of society.
So what can I do to help? I believe my voice can best be heard from the pencils that express the reality of what flows through the very veins of our communities. I propose that we exchange ideas that will bring forth a play that simultaneously tells the story of the drug dealer and user at the same time. The message being, we (black people) cannot “come up” as drug dealers without pushing our own further down. The play would depict the unspoken adversity, real life tragedies and experiences that our memories hold secret, but we all know.
For example, I see a young brother and sister being raised by a single mother who’s addicted to crack cocaine. In separate bedrooms they each lay awake and listen to the unwanted sounds coming from their mother’s bedroom, while she eagerly submits her body as payment for an addiction that she denies even having. Knowing what’s happening, the daughter swears to never use drugs, and the son vows to never sell it.
As they grow, they try desperately to avoid the hand that’s too often the only hand to offer a way off of the merry-go-round of poverty. The hand that offers help is full of promises, but can only guarantee a prison cell or coffin. For a while the daughter is the only one who will escape the structured dementia that devours the hope and aspiration from everyone around her. She watches her brother develop into a cold-hearted drug dealer who cares only about reaching the top. But inside he regrets the path taken in his life.
This boy one day will echo Ike Atkinson’s quote when he said, “I know I could have done well in school. My life could have gone in a much different direction.”
I see the brother having everything he wants while his sister follows the footsteps of Michelle Obama. Then the brother’s lifestyle comes full circle. One day he witnesses another drug dealer selling rock cocaine to his sister. Standing there in the game of life, unable to move, he feels like someone from the outside looking in had just screamed, “CHECKMATE!”