My Birthday Wish

Hello blog reader(s)!  Last month Surrender was published by UNT's Ten Spurs literary journal. This essay is about meeting Khristian Oliver, a man who was executed by the state of Texas in November of 2009.  After his execution, I recieved a letter of thanks from his girlfriend, Sonya Reed, which blew me away.  Sonya was given a life sentence (99 years due to the law of parties) for sitting outside the crime scene in a truck.  She was two months pregnant and gave birth to her daughter, a child she hasn't seen in ten years, while in prison.

I have befriended Sonya, not because I feel sorry for her, but because she is an intelligent, caring and thoughtful person.  I look forward to her letters and our occassional visits in Gatesville.

Okay, so here's the dealio.  The state of Texas is now going to privatize health care for inmates and charge them $100 per year.  This means that if an inmate has money placed on their books, so that they can buy shampoo (something not provided by the state) stamps or healthier food than what is offered, the state will take half of it until the $100 is payed.  Sonya recently had her commissary order taken away because she didn't put it away fast enough.  It was boxed up and when one of her friends came to visit her, it was given to him.  But she'll never see it again.

So, here's my birthday wish.  I'd like to help Sonya raise money so that she can get the items she needs.  If I had the dough, I'd do it myself.  But I don't.  So here's my offer.  If you place money on Sonya's books through jpay.com and send me a confirmation of it, I'll send you an email of my essay.  The site is secure and you can send as little as $5.  You'll make two people happy. 

Here's her info.
Sonya Reed
Mountain View Unit, Gatesville, TX
Her number is 878111
Thank you.
Post it here on this blog or you can message me on facebook.

Dead at 27

Okay, so lots of famous musicians seem to burn out at the critical age of 27.  I'll be honest, I wasn't a huge Winehouse fan, but like a lot of people, I couldn't turn away from the trainwreck that was her life.  If anything, she was interesting. And she was a public figure.  You might have danced to one of her songs.  Or made out with the cute guy at the end of the bar while "You Know, I'm No Good" played on the jukebox.  Or maybe you ran on the treadmill to "Rehab."  Music has a way of seeping into our subconscious, creating memories that we associate with certain melodies or guitar riffs or lyrics.  It's inescapable.  That's why her death mattered. In some small way, we could relate to something inside of her, not the real her, but the her that she put into song.
Sure, we all could see that the Grim Reaper loomed above her like a cloud of smoke at a Grateful Dead concert.  The girl liked to party.  Like a lot.  There were plenty of pics that documented her demise.  There she is past the point of inebriation with a drink clutched in her skeletal hands. Here's another with her nostrils flaked with cocaine.  There is also her many cancelled shows or the times she would show up, but was so pissed, she couldn't remember the lyrics to her own songs. She punched people.  She went to rehab, despite the catchy "no, no, no" of her infamous and ironic song.  And tragically she died at the young age of 27.

I posted on facebook about her death, as did many people.  One of my friends, who I actually know in person, posted that he wondered why no one mentioned the soldiers who had died in battle in the past few weeks or the people who died in Norway.  He felt that their deaths were more signifcant or noble than Ms. Winehouse's death.  After all, she had it coming with the way she lived her life. 

But don't we all have it coming?  No one here gets out alive. And honestly, it's only really going to matter to those who had a personal connection to us.

Unless you've written a hit song.