I got myself into a little dust-up with one of the Aryan Nation boys on New Year’s Day. No significant injuries and the result was less bullying, so it was worth it
The Aryan boys call themselves the DWBs for Dirty White Boys. Most of them are in for drug dealing. Here, they have lorded it over the sex offenders (SOs) in an attempt to feel superior. They like to call us “chomos”--short for child molesters. For us, this word is in the same category as the ‘N’ word—a hate word. I am not that, nor is anyone I know in here. Child molesters tend to go to state prisons unless they cross state lines to do their dirty work. So we just refer to ourselves as SOs. There is even a movement afoot to change the status of this offense from a sex crime to a computer crime as long as there is no personal contact. I would love to see that come to pass as it is truly galling to be in the same offense category as those who would harm a child.
What precipitated the New Year’s Day confrontation was, they told one guy (an SO) that he had to move from where he had always sat to watch TV. So I sat in that spot the next night, knowing they would tell me I had to move. Sure enough, they did and I refused. Game on! There were no guards present that night so no one took the fall for it, except my cellmate who broke his ankle.
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Feb. 23As for the DWBs, there has been no further bullying since the incident. They say that just under half the people on the compound are sex offenders, so we have them far outnumbered. My cellmate is recovering slowly, still on crutches. I do things for him like getting him hot water for his coffee and soup and accompanying him to the chow hall to carry his tray for him. It’s the least I can do.
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March 10You said I was lucky to not have to worry about filing my tax return, but I do still pay taxes and just had my wife send me a signature page for the E-file return. She is getting my pension check, which goes for the house payment. She will be listing the house soon, but in this market, we do not expect it to sell quickly. She has said it is time to get our property divided as she wants to move on with her life.
I’m reasonably sure there won’t be another marriage in my future. For one thing, how does one even approach a woman in the situation I will be in? “Hi, I’m Kent, convicted felon and registered sex offender. Want to go out?”
Yes, I have stopped noting days down and days to go on a daily basis. (I still have the calendar I marked up, and as of today, it’s 428/1957.) I hit the one year anniversary of being locked up on January 6. On April 15, it will be two years since the beginning of the nightmare—the day of my arrest. It’s difficult to imagine one’s life changing so drastically in the space of one 24-hour period.
Actually, I do want to see the “god book” from the class you were taking. I am always open to hearing the beliefs of others. The UU church I was going to when on house arrest has an element of the Sunday service called “This I believe.” On my last Sunday there, I was the speaker for that feature. Afterwards, several people came up and said I mirrored their beliefs. One even said she wanted to put it in the monthly newsletter. I don’t know if they ever did or not. A week later, the local paper ran the story of my sentencing that made me out to be a predatory monster, so I’m guessing they didn’t.
CLF (Church of the Larger Fellowship) sends me a newsletter every month called Quest and the UU World quarterly. Both contain inspirational articles that probably started out as sermons. So I use them for my Sunday morning readings when I’m out of sermons. They also have me signed up for a pen pal, which they say takes 6 to 8 months to put together. I guess there is a long waiting list.
All for now,
Love, Kent
