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Showing posts from 2016

2016, the year I went to prison

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I have to wonder what he ordered at Applebee’s the morning of my grandmother’s funeral. Was it the Fiesta Lime Chicken, whose name invokes a celebratory tone appropriate for the $364.25 purchase of new shoes? Or the Three-Cheese Chicken Cavatappi, with Crunchy Onion Rings to start: heavy, dense comfort food to soothe and bury any guilt that may come with the use of someone else’s credit card, right before she awakened in another time zone and dressed in black. Wondering. Standing witness at events I can't control. Sadness, grief, humor; you can see my year reflected in that story of fraud, which, by the way, happened twice in 2016--on a card that was difficult to get, thanks to my new financial status. The year began with all the things breaking. Smoke filled the January morning I was to start a new job. My older son, having offered to start my tea, chose to place the electric teapot on the stove. I descended the staircase to a cloudy room. Have you seen my open floor plan w

What I Read in 2015

Thirty-two books in 2015, the year I took notes so I wouldn't forget what they were about. Also, the year I turned 45. These events are related. The First Book I Made Notes On, When I Realized That Already My Memory Was Failing Me Silence, Thich Nhat Hanh This book, by a Buddhist monk, made me see Jesus's death in a completely new light. Comparing the crucifixion to self-immolation, he says this: "I shared with Dr. King my understanding that when Jesus died on the cross, he made the choice to die for the benefit of others--not out of despair but out of hope and love, using his body in order to bring change to a desperate situation." Books I Talked About On My Job Interview At A Bookstore The types that work at bookstores are very different people who nevertheless fit squarely into these categories: reader and introvert at heart. And yet I wonder if maybe I was the first one to pull out my book journal on the interview and read aloud the mini-reviews I had writt

This Poem From An Inmate Blew Me Away

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My last post recounted a trip to Handlon Correctional Facility, where I met with 14 prisoners who had read my book, FRAMES: a picture of death, drugs, and forgiveness . The discussion was rich but some of them were quiet, so I suggested at the end that anyone who wanted to write down their thoughts about the book should do so. I never expected this. The following is a poem one of the men sent to me through the people who run the book club I visited. Even if you haven't read FRAMES, I think you'll catch that the sheer number of details he includes is astounding. The moments that spoke to him appear throughout, and he wraps up with what I know from our discussion had hit him the hardest: that Kevin was told he had done a good job. Everyone needs to hear that, he said, and when they do, they can move on. Mr. Williams: You, too, have done a good job. One that blows me away. Catch a recent radio interview with Amy here . Purchase FRAMES here . Visit our

Getting Life

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He raised his hand. He looked quite young but had been there 20 years, a juvenile lifer due to a mistake at 17. "I have questions for you, Ms. Scheer," he said, glancing down at his paper. He sat tall, an earnest man with intelligence. How did you choose this story. How did the story make you grow as a person. Which character did you most identify with, and why. This was the Life Change Book Club at a Level 2 prison in west Michigan. Here was Kenyatta who had prepared for my visit; Marcus, too. And others among the 14, who fidgeted through my introduction with their papers, so eager to say what they had written down that they asked what I had already just answered. "They're calling me a 'speaker' tonight," I said, "but I'm just a person who had this book happen to her," I told them. I had passed through a barbed-wire fence wearing a device with a red emergency button that had been tested after I attached it to my belt. I had been fr