“Sophie’s Violin” and “Who do you think I am” and “A Damn Good Book”

I have six grandchildren, two by my daughter Azteca and her husband Tom and four by my oldest son Marco and his wife Cindy, yeah, Cindy Crawford! Well, a different Cindy Crawford of course, but still a keeper. I love them all!

One of Marco’s daughters is named Sophia, we call her Sophie. Sophie plays the violin. Yeah, the violin for God’s sake; who’d of thought that somebody with my gene’s would be interested in the violin! No, I isn’t talkin’ about the fiddle, now that would make perfect sense, but the violin!

Bein’ that I don’t know the first thing about the violin, or Classical Music for that matter, and bein’ that I wanted to bond with her a little, I asked her the name of her favorite violin song, she replied, “Moonlight Sonata, for violin”.

A few years back they allowed us to purchase MP3 players and to buy music off the computer…it’s a big money maker for the Prison System. So I jumped on the computer and plugged in my MP3 and typed in “Moonlight Sonata, for violin”…nothing. Nothing for the violin that is; they had plenty for the piano, but nothing that said “for violin”. Next thing I did was to listen to the samples of every rendition they offered and several of them were piano and violin, but nothing for the solo violin. After thirty tries ( we are only allowed to sample thirty songs a day ) I gave up for the day, marked my spot and patiently waited for the coming day so I could sample the others. The next day came and I again sampled thirty renditions, but did not find what I was looking for. I concluded that I must be doing something wrong. That night I thought about my dilemma and decided that on the following day I would put the mouse arrow on the bar that held the selected song title and read everything that was in the credits on the song. Yeah, I know, a normal person would have done that right off the rip…but I’m a Crawford, and we don’t ever, ever, ever, read the instructions until we’re completely out of other options…hell, I don’t know why…white trash gene’s, I guess! Anyway, lo and behold, when I did that I saw that the “Moonlight Sonata” was somehow connected to Beethoven, so I typed in Beethoven, like three times, who the hell can spell that? Anyway, when I realized that I couldn’t spell Beethoven even close enough for the computer to recognize the word, I had to click back to the other screen and break up the spelling into two words, “Beet” and “Hoven” so I could remember how to spell it. I typed it in and some stuff came up…like a lot of stuff came up, actually. Still, no ” Moonlight Sonata, for violin”. I clicked back to the original screen and went back to reading the directions…and then I saw it plain as day…the Moonlight Sonata is called, “Sonata #14”. I typed in Sonata #14 and there it was, a hundred different versions. I found one that was cheap and bought it. Oh give me a break here, what’s the difference between a seventy-five cent version and a dollar-sixty version?…for cryin’ out loud, it’s Classical Music! Anyway, I took my cheap assed version ( feel better ) up to my cell, turned out the lights, lay down upon my bunk, closed my eyes and listened to the song while envisioning my beautiful granddaughter playing it, just for me. I love you Sophie.

“Who Do You Think I Am?”

Sleep came upon me, not in the usual way, but with a soft gentle sway,
a cradle of sweet relief and I welcomed it as a pleasant finish to an unusual day.

Somewhere in the night I was awake, yet not, and found myself in a vision without light.
My consciousness assured me it wasn’t a dream, I felt safe and decided not to fight.

The darkness cleared and in this peacefulness I stood in the middle of a vacant city street,
one I remembered as part of my youthful beat.

On this street I walked alone with only the halos of streetlights to hold off a darkness ready to pounce should they fail.
A chill came and I shuddered while pulling my coat tight around me, but it was a chill from somewhere beyond the veil.

Suddenly from somewhere above came a spear of light,
one that drove itself deep into my brain and split the night.

All that I was, was that light, and in that silence I saw a multitude of people wandering aimlessly about.
I saw family tombstones, I saw lonely children, I saw weeping wives and mothers…I saw my own without a doubt.

Alone I was and then I wasn’t, there were thousands upon thousands around me, but to them I was nothing to see,
to them there was no me.

Then, much to my chagrin, I recognized this familiar place, it was one I could not flee.
In my sorrow I found a corner on the top tier and looked out over my prison, and saw a place no one wanted to be.

“A DAMN GOOD BOOK”

We cons read allot, and we are a close knit group, too. So when one of my brothers recommends a book to me, I try to read it. This has happened. My friend Boon, who I did time with in Pollock, sent me message to read a book called “The Life We Bury, by Allen Eskins. It took me about three months to get it but alas it was sent. I received it in the mail on a Monday, we went on lockdown the next day, and I read it on Wednesday…yeah, one day! Couldn’t put it down. Smartly written, good characters. So passing the word to my friends to read it…yeah, it’s got a convict story line, but ya ain’t gotta be a con to enjoy it! Trust and read the BOOK!

Peace be with you. Mark

Three Rivers, 6-6-17