THE FIGHT TO CORRECT CORRECTIONS

At the time of son Milo’s murder at the Idaho State Correctional Center (a fancy name for “prison”), a nephew suggested that I could do some writing with regard to the need for corrections reform. Well, I’ve found it difficult. In the first place, I’m not a crusader, and in the second place, injustices happen every day. I’m well aware that the tragic loss of a son does not make me special. It also takes courage to speak out because some people feel that inmates deserve what they get, regardless of their circumstances.

But today in the U.S., we incarcerate so many non-violent offenders that we need to let go of that cruel idea. We have criminalized mental illness and addiction – societal issues – to the extent that at least 50% of the incarcerated could better serve another less costly type of sentence. (Yes, incarceration is a hefty taxpayer expense.) If non-violent offenders could pay their debt under some other type of system, they might continue to contribute to society through employment, pay taxes, support community businesses, and keep their families intact while also benefiting the community through service.

And let me tell you, once an individual finds his way into the judicial / corrections system, his/her life is ruined. It takes an exceptionally strong individual to come back from incarceration. When released, they have hefty fines to pay, which increases indebtedness and leads to homelessness – a further drain on society. They say if you aren’t mentally ill when you enter prison, you will be when you come out. The prison environment sees to it. Prison helps no one.

We incarcerate the criminally insane as well as those with mental health issues, often without segregating them from each other or the general prison population, making it especially dangerous for non-violent inmates. Some people aren’t fighters and can’t adequately defend themselves. And why should they have to? No one should be bullied in prison or anywhere else, but this happens.

It’s not my place to say whether or not Milo belonged in prison. However, judges who pass these sentences must know that non-violent offenders might not survive incarceration. At the sentencing of Milo’s murderer, the judge commented that she had no jurisdiction over what happens at the prison, adding that the prison doesn’t even have to follow her recommendations. And I wanted to scream, “But you put people there!”

I’ve been asked more than once, “Have you told the ACLU?” Yes, several times. The major concerns of human rights organizations are the incarceration of women, the plight of people of color, and the rights of the LGBTQ community – all worthy causes – but our son Milo, a white male, was killed by his cellmate, another white male. Very few organizations argue for the greatly needed reform of the overall system for the betterment of humanity. The political upheaval in our country puts prison reform at the bottom of the list, and yet, we’re no better as a society than the way we treat the lowest among us.

It’s been nearly three years since Milo passed. The news cycle has moved on, but it has been the quest of my family to quietly press for change through legal action. A judge has allowed our suit to continue. We believe it’s an important case. KW 

AUTUMN COMES TO GILBERT

 

It’s October – a delightful time of year in the Pacific Inland Northwest. Mornings and evenings are cool, but afternoons have been unseasonably warm. I’m comfortable in warmer pajamas, but it’s too soon for sweatshirts and warm-ups. I see it could well freeze at the farm early in the week and come close to it in town. I also see that by next weekend the highs could be in the 70s again.

The autumn plague of blue aphids has begun. They’re harmless, I guess. Just inconvenient. And they love our purple ash tree, so we’re part of the problem.

I’ve already set out my Halloween displays, and I even made a pillow top from a favorite Halloween sweatshirt. I loved that shirt the moment I saw it at Kmart all those years ago, hanging all by itself at the end of a rack. I bought it and enjoyed wearing it, but it got old and the sleeves were a little short, so I retired it with intent to repurpose it as a pillow. It happened this year, and I count it as another finished project.

Mike and I spent this last week at the farm. I made a last batch of elderberry jelly (5 jelly jars), and while I had the canning kettle out, I cooked a batch of green tomato mincemeat (4 pints). Mike mowed the lawn, hopefully for the last time this year. We don’t water here, and usually the grass has gone dormant before now.

Mike rode his bike a couple of times, and while he did, Bess and I hiked the planted fields. Next year’s crop is canola, and it’s already coming up. It’s a bit disappointing for us. The game birds seem to prefer the wheat. The bright yellow fields will be gorgeous when the canola blooms in the spring, but afterwards, it grows tall and obscures our views. But – the land is leased and it’s not up to us.

Walking the fields is no easy feat, now that the soil is loose and furrowed, but I enjoyed getting out on my own and taking pictures. Bess was gracious about watching and waiting for me, but as I approached her on our last hike behind the house, she looked me in the eye, turned around, and marched back across the field. She was resting on the porch when I got home. Apparently she wasn’t up for the hike. KW

FARROL JOAN (JONI) WALRATH NUNAN – 1934-2026

 

Mrs. Bonner's First Grade Class, 1955-56, Orofino Elementary School

My big sister Joni slipped peacefully from this world on Saturday, Sept. 19. Joni was going on 15 when I was born and was a player in my life, especially during my young years. I miss her already.

I have many “Joni” stories, but the one I’ll relate here is a favorite. Joni’s birthday is Nov. 10, so when she started school in Oklahoma, she began at midterm (January), but when the family moved back to Idaho, there was no mid-term program, and she was “put back” to the third grade instead of promoted to the fourth. In her mind, she was made to repeat a grade, and she resented this for the rest of her school days, though she had a wonderful group of friends among her classmates.

Joni graduated from Orofino High School in 1953 and subsequently attended the University of Idaho majoring in elementary and secondary education. Her goal was to finish in three years to make up for the year that was stolen from her in elementary school. Her U-I advisor told her this would only happen if she had no scheduling conflicts, which was doubtful.

In reviewing her coursework in September 1955, Joni’s advisor realized that if she could complete her student teaching that semester, she could graduate in the spring, fulfilling her goal to finish college in three years, but arrangements would have to be made quickly. So, Joni applied to our home school district and gained approval to student teach at Orofino schools, both elementary and secondary. An added advantage was that she could stay at home.

Well, there was a problem of sorts. Of the three first grade teachers, only Mrs. Irene Bonner was qualified to supervise a student teacher. School was already in session, and Mrs. Bonner was my teacher. The administration decided it would not be wise to reassign me. So, when Joni came to teach, it was not ideal. I was required to call her “Miss Walrath” and I didn’t want to.

Well, I was a young first-grader, having turned six just before school started. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work, I just didn’t. I didn’t understand that I was supposed to finish my paper and turn it in. Basically, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I might be flunking first grade. It meant nothing to me, and Mother had no knowledge of the situation.

But Joni told on me. “Mother, Kathy doesn’t finish her work,” she said. Mother was appalled and immediately scheduled a conference with Mrs. Bonner. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, to which Mrs. Bonner just shrugged. I suspect that for whatever reason, Mrs. Bonner was not as concerned as Joni and Mother.

Nevertheless, a plan was put into place to make me understand the necessity of finishing my work and handing it in. Mother made a chart and hung it on the wall in the breakfast nook, and when I brought a graded paper home, I got to glue a star on the chart. I guess earning that star was affirmation enough. The system worked. I became a good student, and much of the credit goes to Joni. At least, that’s the story. (I’ve often thought that Mrs. Bonner probably had a plan.) KW

[In the above photo, student teacher Miss Joni Walrath stands beside teacher Mrs. Irene Bonner. My friend Chris Cummings Miller and I identified this photo to the best of our ability a few years ago. 

Back row: Joni Walrath (Nunan), Irene Bonner, Craig Allen, Jerry Wilfong, Kathy Dobson (Warnock), Sherri Daniels (McMillan), Christine Cummings (Miller), Martha Sewell, Steve Titus, Tim Musiel. 

Center row: First three unknown; Kay Schwartzkopf, Judy Partee, Vicky Carrico, Patricia Irby, Mary ?

Front row: Chipper Prudhomme, Kenneth Dykes, Ged Randall, Jim Oud, Unknown, Lanny Tinney, Calvin Joye, Charles Lindstrom, Mike Steinbruecker.]

DELIGHTFUL COOLER DAYS

The cooler evenings are such a relief. So lovely to be able to sleep under a blanket in cozy comfort.  

Mike and I so enjoyed our day at the farm last Monday (Sept. 21) that we returned on Wednesday to stay a few days. It seemed to me that the fall colors along the river were more evident on Wednesday than they had been on Monday. I noticed it at the farm, too. I suppose that’s silly, but it does have to happen at some time and in some way. And when we returned to town on Saturday, the colors were again more vibrant.

Thursday afternoon it was a lovely 78 degrees at the farm, but it began to cloud up, and by Friday noon it was raining. Looking at the forecast, lows will now be in the 30s. Since a freeze might happen anytime, I decided to pick the rest of the tomatoes – 70 in all.

Farm yard from north field

For years, green tomatoes from our garden were slim to none, and I was able to make just a little mincemeat, but this year I could make a full batch twice over. Mike and I both enjoy a small mincemeat pie a couple of times during the autumn / winter season, but there’s a limit to how much mincemeat we can consume. The rest of our family doesn’t care for it. Come to think of it, I don’t know many people who do like mincemeat and a few who remark with disdain. It’s expensive to make this mincemeat, but it’s even more expensive to buy it.

So, this morning I chopped 12 cups of green tomatoes and placed the bag in the freezer to be processed on the next trip to the farm. And I also chopped up the Empire apples and cooked them into apple sauce.

While we were at the farm, I made two batches of elderberry jelly – 11 jars. Mike picked more elderberries, so I processed the juice and will make another batch of jelly with the next stay. KW

A BEAUTIFUL LAST DAY OF SUMMER

On the last day of summer (Monday, Sept. 21), Mike and I made a day trip to the farm. It was a beautiful day – sunny and warm with a cool breeze. I noticed right away that our fields have been planted, and I love the new look! It’s canola, which will be bright yellow in the spring.

Mike serviced the wood splitter and put it to bed for the winter. I helped him cover the pine logs in the front yard with the old metal roofing, as if we need to protect more firewood. We’ll never use all that we have in storage now. And we don’t know but what the winter will bring yet more downed trees.

In the afternoon, Mike enjoyed a rest in the hammock. He was going to put it away last week but decided to leave it up a while longer.

I washed sheets and jeans and hung them on the clothesline. They were dry by mid-afternoon. I picked eight tomatoes and three zucchinis and watered the raised beds. I see a lot of green tomatoes, and as warm as the afternoons have been, some of them might ripen before Jack Frost comes to visit.

Pear tree changing to autumn garb

You know, back in Ina’s day – or even my dad’s day – the growing season at Gilbert would likely be over by Labor Day, if not before. It was a short growing season at altitude. These days we can wait it out a bit. However, the shorter days and cooler lows are still a factor, and we don’t quite know what to expect anymore.

I loaded up projects and food to carry back to town, thinking that we wouldn’t return to the farm for a while, but now we’ve decided to spend more time there this fall, so I’ve had to readjust. It doesn’t hurt to keep using up the food, but I don’t like to burden Mike with a lot of packing back and forth. The fact is that it’s a lovely time of year, and I like to be at home at the farm. We’ll see if we can keep the house open through December.

Then Mike rode the XT back to town, and Bess and I followed in the Jeep. I drove. KW 

AUTUMN'S BOUNTY -- TOMATOES AND APPLES

 

Ah! Just smell those apples! This year I picked a bumper crop from the little Empire tree – three dozen mostly worm-free apples. The Freedom tree yielded 10 small apples – it’s first crop – and they also were worm-free. The Honey Crisp only produced a dozen or so, and they were terribly infected with worms. I picked them anyway for the good I could get from them, and I made separate batches of applesauce with the Honey Crisps and the Freedoms, both of which were pronounced delicious. I used a few Empire apples to make a delicious apple crisp.

Last spring, when it was time to spray the apple blossoms, the wand on Mike’s sprayer was broken, so I used an ordinary spray bottle to give the three trees an initial treatment. The repeat application the following week worked for the Empire and Freedom trees, but the Honey Crisp blossoms had already passed. At least, I think that’s the difference. I take courage that this was a better year and look forward to trying again next spring.

According to my notes, I picked more than six dozen tomatoes from three bushes during the season. It’s the best crop I’ve ever had. I shared some, cooked some, and we enjoyed them with our green salads and sandwiches. I picked just a few last week, and we noticed a definite difference in the flavor and texture. Perhaps I should have left them to ripen a few more days in the hot afternoon sun. Plenty of green tomatoes abound. If they don’t ripen, we’ll have green tomato mincemeat. Don’t scoff! Jarred mincemeat is hard to find, and when you do, it’s expensive. Mike and I enjoy the occasional mincemeat pie.

The zucchini didn’t do so well – just a few, as usual. Hardly worth the effort. It’s just disheartening because zucchini plants are supposed to be prolific. KW

“Vos papiers, s’il vous plait”

“It’s a terrible system we’re getting to have in our country,” said my late sister Harriet. I think of this so often these days.

“Your identity papers, please.” I never thought it would come to this in America. In fact, I put off getting my “Real ID” for at least five years, but when it came time to renew my drivers license, I finally stepped up to it.

My daughter suggested that maybe a Real ID isn’t so important for me. “Where are you going to go anyway,” she asked. But it’s a matter of compliance. And – she recently attended a hearing in a federal building in Boise, and in future I may want to accompany her, and I will have to have a Real ID in order to enter the building. You know how it is. We little old ladies cause so much trouble that we have to be scrutinized. 

So, at one month out from my renewal date (August 28), I read through the list of required documents and discovered to my chagrin that I would need a certified copy of our marriage license. Why? To prove the event that caused my name to change from my birth certificate. (This requirement discriminates against women.) Fortunately I’ve only had one name change, or this would be even more difficult. I had to order the license, and it took at least a month to be delivered. By the time it came, my driver’s license had expired.

We pay our bills online, so I didn’t have a utility bill to prove my current address. The monthly paper statement we receive to show our water usage was the best I could do, but it’s in Mike’s name. Oh well. Maybe this with the marriage certificate would work.

I don’t have a social security card showing my married name, but I do have tax statements from my state retirement fund showing my current name with my social security number. I tossed it in the file I was developing.

Once I had all my “papers” together, I made an appointment with the licensing department. I should have just gone in and taken a number. They aren’t that busy in my community. Be that as it may, I was there on time.

So, when called, I approached the representative and presented my papers. My expired license had to be renewed first – so I passed the tests and paid for an 8-year license. Then from my papers, the rep chose my birth certificate, marriage license, the water bill in Mike’s name, and my tax statement and scanned all these into the system. 

“Your license will have a chip in it so that they can scan it,” she said. “Do you mind?” What difference does it make if I mind? I mind about a lot of things. I said I didn’t mind. I paid again, this time for the “Real ID.”

And that was that. This thing that was a big deal in my mind for all these years is finally over. Maybe. KW