ANOTHER RIOT AT THE PRISON

 

Milo at Thanksgiving, 2014 -- taken at the farmhouse

I never thought I would write about prison life. Why would I? It has nothing to do with me, does it? Unfortunately, it does. Reform of the justice / corrections / mental health system is suddenly my calling. It’s what I call a “noble life-motive.”

Today’s Lewiston Tribune carries an article from the Idaho Statesman about another riot at the Idaho State Correction Center (ISCC). The last paragraph mentions that Milo was killed there, which seems to suggest his murder relates to gang activity. In other words, he was targeted. Until the investigative report is available, we won’t know. Maybe we’ll never know, but we have fertile imaginations.

Incarcerated at ISCC at Kuna, Milo was placed in maximum security for trying to control when he swallowed his medication. It’s rapidly becoming an old story. I’m tired of it. Sure – he should have known better, but Milo’s mental make-up was such that he didn’t think in terms of consequences. He was still a non-violent DUI offender, not even a drug offender. 

Placed on G Block with hardcore felons, Milo became an observer of illicit activities. He was in over his head. He thought if he just kept his mouth shut, he would be all right. He wasn't.

I’m just his mother, but personally, I feel he should never have been sent to prison. Surely we can come up with better consequences for DUI offenders. During his sentencing hearing on July 26, 2023, Milo volunteered to permanently relinquish his vehicle and his driving privileges, but the judge said that though this would solve the problem, it was too "harsh" and "crazy." Then he sentenced Milo to a minimum of two years in prison where he was killed four months later. Seems harsher than never driving again to me. KW

THE GARDEN DISCONNECT

Murray's indoor vegetable starter kit

Please have plenty of vegetables cooked for our first meal and a big cake, canned or fresh fruit. If handy, chicken. Love, Momma – Ina, traveling on a shoestring and hungry, writes to daughters Myrtle and Ethel back at the farm – Aug. 9, 1926

There’s a disconnect between the gardens of my imagination and the reality of the thing.

In my mind’s eye, I see the farmhouse sitting in the midst of a beautiful cottage garden – lots of flowers, including roses and peonies. And we should have a prolific vegetable garden, too, producing enough to last at least into autumn. And fruit trees everywhere.

Well, the reality is something else. At altitude in central Idaho, we’re apt to have a wet spring that delays planting. Then we’ll have an early hot summer and no appreciable rain until autumn, meaning that the ground dries and becomes hard and undiggable. (It’s basically clay, you know.) The prediction for this spring is warmer and drier than usual.

And that’s just the weather. We might be able to do more if the deer and rodents would just leave us alone.

And then Mike wants to keep the grounds free of random planting and fencing so that mowing is easy. Well, my dad was the same way. He removed Grandma Ina’s roses and peonies.

My grandparents didn’t face these challenges. It’s dry land farming, and it rained enough in the summer that they got by. I admit that they were better gardeners than I am, but still, they had some things going for them. The summer climate was better then – cooler with some nice gentle summer rains. I remember those.

Having grown up on the homestead, my dad was a good gardener in his day. Yet, his last efforts before he passed came to naught. “Kathy,” he said, “something ate the corn right out of the ground.” That was the mid-1980s.

Nowadays, gardening at the farm is basically a nightmare, but we keep trying. The garden websites are pressing me to order seeds and plants, and with that, I daydream again about prolific gardens.

Well, I have to “squash” my enthusiasm to keep from ordering too many seed packets. I’d like to add another raised bed or two so that I can better rotate my vegetable crops. But in the end, it’s usually not a rewarding venture anyway.

Mike always reminds me that spinach and snap peas are so-o-o good when fresh from the garden. Unfortunately, these veggies like cool weather, and by the time I can plant, it’s too late because of the aforementioned early summer.

Son Murray, who gardens here in town, says he only plants a garden because he loves fresh produce. He’s already started seeds in his new tray with grow light. I’ll just start tomatoes, squash, and peppers in my kitchen window. I could buy the plants, but starting from seed offers better variety. AND – it is fun to watch the young plants grow. KW 

TWO INTERVIEWS

Today I feel so relieved – a freedom that I haven’t felt since Milo passed. Not only did we complete two televised interviews this week but I also mailed a written complaint to the State and an application to the Idaho Crime Victims Compensation Program.

The media has approached us for these interviews:

KHQ -  Spokane with Mike and Kathy

KTVB - Boise with Hallie

KHQ Interview

Milo at work

 Our interview with KHQ Spokane can be seen here. KW

BRIEF UPDATE

I just finished a post titled “incarcerated loved ones,” but I’m afraid to publish it. My philosophy of online journaling is to avoid strongly-held opinions – no religion, politics, or controversial / unpleasant topics. Oh, I’m opinionated all right! I just don’t enjoy confrontation or debating issues, especially in my happy place. And I don’t want to burden my readers with anger and grief.

Still, my blog stats seem to suggest that readers might be looking for updates regarding our quest for “justice for Milo.” It’s a work in progress. We have now entered our third month of waiting for the investigative report. It’s either an in-depth investigation, or they’re stalling. Maybe it’s just on the back burner because they don’t care. The whole thing is devastating, disappointing, depressing, but tomorrow is another day. KW

BELATED VALENTINE GREETINGS

I have a modest collection of post cards gathered from both of my parents, including greetings for birthday, Christmas, New Year, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and Thanksgiving, but only this one valentine. Interesting.

As we finished the potato soup last week, Mike was not yet ready for solid food. I had one more potato in the pantry and a head of broccoli, so I decided to try another homemade soup. I read recipes and gained courage to make broccoli soup from scratch after the manner of the old-fashioned potato soup.

I boiled the diced potato, a little carrot and onion, with the broccoli in a quart of chicken broth seasoned with pepper and ½ teaspoon chicken bouillon. Before serving, I liquified the soup with a hand blender so that Mike wouldn’t have to chew it. Then I added a cup of diced ham, a half cup of shredded cheddar cheese, and two cups of whole milk. We thought it was delicious.

I also made more applesauce.

Son Murray visited on Super Bowl Sunday and brought solid food – barbecued ribs, scalloped potatoes, and kale salad. Mike wasn’t going to miss this feast. This was the first solid food he had eaten in ten days, and he was ready for it! We are now back on our usual diet, though his tongue hasn’t entirely healed.

As we watched the game, Murray’s son Doug sent photos of the meal he prepared for himself – a pepperoni and spinach pizza and buffalo wings. There’s a balanced diet for you! Doug, our eldest grandson, lives in Boston and will start law school in the fall.

And here’s a photo of our youngest grandchild, Silas, enjoying lunch with “Bunny.” Silas and Bunny love tasty, nutritious food.

Publicity continues with regard to Milo’s tragic passing. We don't have to plead with the media for coverage. They call us.  In fact, they thank us! Hallie was interviewed by Channel 7 Boise last Friday (Feb. 9). The segment has yet to air. KHQ Spokane is scheduled to interview Mike and me on Monday (Feb. 19) here at the town house. I'm not really looking forward to it. It's a complicated topic. KW

SOFT DIETS

SOLID FOOD

During my growing up years (and no, it was not the dark ages), I accompanied my mother to visit elderly relatives in nursing homes. If we were there during mealtime, I would observe the food on the tray – what was called a soft diet. I remember a slice of white bread in a waxed paper sleeve, a dish with a couple of peach slices, mashed potatoes, peas and soggy carrots, a thin slice of meat covered in gravy, and vanilla pudding for dessert, all in small portions. Many people needed that bland, unappealing diet. Those who didn’t wished for better food.

Now that Mike and I are older, I often think of those nursing home meals. We eat pretty much as we always have – until this week, that is. The sore on Mike’s tongue, which commenced after he had dental work, is slow to improve, and he can barely chew or swallow. A soft diet quickly became a liquid diet, and even that is a challenge for him. It's difficult to get enough nutrition into him to support his activities. Thinking of meals to fix is a challenge.

Potato soup was suggested. I cubed two russet potatoes and cooked them with diced onion and celery in chicken broth to cover. Once the potatoes were soft, I mashed this concoction with a potato masher. Then for more body and flavor, I added a can of cream of chicken soup and a cup of diced ham. We thought the result was delicious. It made enough for two suppers and a lunch. (This soup, a favorite of mine, was basically my mother’s method except she used water instead of the chicken soups.)

Our next supper was canned vegetarian vegetable soup. I pureed the contents of the cans with an immersion blender before I added the water. This, too, was a delicious meal – just not much to it.

Last night’s supper was pureed chunky vegetable beef. It was tasty and filling. Either that or my stomach has shrunk.

I eat what I fix for Mike because I don’t want to make two meals. We’re both hungry and wishing for solid food. I might buy a couple of frozen dinners for myself. 

In case you’re wondering, Mike saw his doctor yesterday. A topical steroid product was prescribed. KW

WHO DID IT HAPPEN TO?

“Happier far is the one who leaves than the one who stays behind,” my mother would say from time to time. It's a "glittering generality." Today, so many people leave for unpleasant reasons, and those who stay behind worry.

After Mother’s first husband, Fairly Walrath, was killed in a woods accident in 1945, her brother, our Uncle Porkie, asked her, “Now, who did that happen to – him or you?” With son Milo's passing, I ask myself the same question. Milo is gone – no doubt about it, but we are left to deal with the sordid facts, the injustice, the grief, and the business, and it will be ongoing for quite some time. Every day we deal with it in some form or other. So, I do think it happened to us, and we wish Milo godspeed. 

People say, “It’s just unnatural to bury your child.” That’s true, of course, but to me it’s entirely beside the point. Milo was a victim of homicide while in the custody of the State. This just overwhelms any other consideration. And justice is elusive. 

“I can’t believe someone would kill Milo,” said one of his high school classmates, an Albertson's employee. I can’t believe it either.

In need of a quiet, easy project to keep my hands busy, I went out to my shed and retrieved the gray striped afghan in progress that I stored last spring. Stopping and starting causes loss of momentum. I suffered setbacks through mistakes as I began to work on it, but I will soon finish it if I don't lay it aside again. And against my better judgment, I started a corner-to-corner afghan in the same crochet stitch (the wattle) using the same weight yarn and crochet hook. I try not to mix crochet projects of varying yarn / thread weight because it messes with my gauge. KW

CHEESY SUPPER CUSTARD

Here we are – already February. January saw both record low and record high temps in our region. Temps have grown so warm – highs in 50s (even 60) while lows are in the 40s. I hate to see this so soon. It encourages plant growth before all danger of frost has passed, and if the budding fruit trees freeze, we get no fruit. The country plum trees didn’t bear last year, and the year before, we didn’t have cherries.

I’m continually surprised by what’s called “vintage.” “Grandma’s recipes” from the 1970s is the way I still cook. Clearly, I don’t identify as “grandma.” If I want to cook like “grandma,” I look for recipes from the 1930s through the ‘50s.

Through dental work, Mike sustained an injury to his tongue. We suspect he bit his tongue while it was deadened. At any rate, eating has been painful for him, and we needed a couple of days of soft entrees. I thought of the “Chinese molds” my mother used to make, a recipe from the Betty Crocker Picture Cook Book, 1950. However, I could find neither the cookbook, which now resides in my collection, nor my recipe card. (I’m terribly lax about refiling recipe cards.)  

So, I spent 45 minutes trying to find a recipe for a cheesy rice custard online with no appreciable results, but eventually I did find the old Betty Crocker cookbook hiding behind one of those wedge-shaped looseleaf cookbooks. And then, I found a stack of recipes in plain sight on the kitchen counter, and naturally, my recipe card for “Chinese molds” was there.

Today, this recipe would need a new name. I’ll call it “Cheesy Supper Custard.”

Gramma Kathy's Cheesy Supper Custard

3 eggs

1 cup cooked rice

1 ½ cups milk

1 cup grated cheese (I use cheddar)

¼ tsp salt

1/8 tsp pepper

Beat eggs. Add milk and remaining ingredients. Mix thoroughly and pour into greased 1 ½ quart casserole dish. Bake at 350 for 45 minutes.

The original recipe suggests placing the casserole in a pan of water so that it steams. I don’t have a pan that’s adequate, so I never bake my custards that way. KW