I do not know if it was for bravado or because I could not resign myself to spend the rest of life in wet flower and bake pies. What is certain is that my second life has begun when a bag of balls in the bag, I went for the first time in a prison. Can you imagine a bunch of convicts - and I mean thieves, drug dealers and murderers - who spend time doing crochet scarves and hats? My name is Eva, I am 85 and I spent the last ten to teach those guys to pack sweaters with knitting and sewing teddy bears.Every morning at seven I came out of my house in Sturtevant, Wisconsin, and instead of going to church as usual I took the road to the prison. If you like an unlikely choice for my age, I assure you that I would not either never thought possible. Yet. I was long past 70 and I was sick of seeing the same look in the mirror a bit 'down from elderly lady who spied on her friends face.
Since my husband had begun to feel bad about the joys of retirement were no longer for me. I could not accept that his suffering became my only horizon, and I tell you that the courses at the Racine Correctional Institution were still an acceptable alternative. I had two classes of 15 students, almost two hours of lessons each.
After the first time who wanted to participate had to sign a waiting list. They were within a few months now and crochet do not speak any more as a pastime for ladies. In there was a place of escape, a protected area, additional air time to breathe really. Thieves, drug dealers, killers, I had them all there to crown around me.
They did, breakup, in turn were to undergo their plots in wool and cotton. Monitor progress and point to point shrimp peanut and pretending that they were educated. To get my approval was enough. There was a table rectangular array at the center of the classroom. We sat there and spent hours knitting.
A mesh after another the men of my second life were released from their waste, and I went behind those bars of cutting my spicchietto sky. The common aim was to escape, although by different types of prison. In my case by the excruciating tyranny of an Alzheimer's patient. The first step I did not even reply without much conviction in an announcement.
The male prison, the Racine fact, was looking for staff for educational activities. I did not know exactly what I could do, but it did not matter. Since the disease began to rob me of Fred, the best memories of life with my husband every day faded, swallowed up by the subtle madness in which he was retreating slowly.
Knitting is not what is known as a profession for males. But I only what I teach. And do not impress me in a prison. In life no one has ever made me really scared and they would have succeeded even those Omoni badly shaved and wild-eyed that I found waiting for me in the classroom. I'm a lady with white hair and I can not see without glasses almost, but despite this, the sweaters and scarves embroidered with polka dots that second children make me a bit 'old, are looking ahead.
I did not expect that you immediately agree to go to class. But I had to survive. And those guys too. So it was just rolling up their sleeves. We had to make teddy bears and clothing for poor children of the parish. And do not waste time. Those who lost their rhythm and did not feel capable enough had three possibilities: the third piece had to go poorly done and leave room for others.
* P * Everyone knew that I was in line to enter. The detainees were happy and almost always remained. In the classroom, no checks, no security guards, everyone could speak freely. And after a while 'began to speak, of himself, of the families of the yearning for children. It is easier when you are every day with a grandmother whose sole purpose is to teach you how to sew cloth dolls.
The only thing that was tough was the language. I am Catholic, God-fearing to speak with me you had to clean, use words judiciously. Understood that everything went. They respected me. I respect them. They could be my sons and it was not important to know what crimes they had committed.
I have never insisted on knowing their past. Someone had to forgive, and I had forgiven them. Somebody had to give him a chance, and I gave it to him. It was a good way to live with, at best, to put aside their prejudices. The still remember some nights, time to pray and to turn over in bed thinking about how to help them.
When Fred was still made me feel that I was not the only one to suffer. When he died I realized that those guys were part of my life. Helped me to go ahead and hold on now that I had to earn. One time I was afraid. The bonnet of a prisoner would not do. I asked him to redo it and he had jumped the nerves.
In a fit of rage she grabbed the scissors and a chair and I pulled them over his head. I was scared, I did not understand. I said, this is the time you give up. I felt small, vulnerable, absurd, silly me with my irons and my stubbornness of old. I was in front of a man angry that I did not know anything, he kept yelling spitting venom.
What had he to do that with a guy like me? Then I said to myself, think, you have to stay calm. Those children knew how to treat them. When they had a problem, I could tell from his eyes. I have always said, if I have a thing about it is to be a formidable "eyewatcher", one with a look that fits you.
I used to work in court, assisting judges during the trial: when the defendant lied for me to understand at a glance. In prison, if I saw them down in the dumps I took the boys aside and went to speak for themselves. That day I let the storm pass and when he stopped screaming I brought up the guard and I put back the chair.
Then, when everyone has stopped watching him came close, and for a moment it seemed to me to be with Fred when I found him lost in the middle of corrodoio because he had lost direction. I told him only that there was always a way to try again. I knew it, when you're in the lack of self-esteem is your sickness.
We just wanted to make them happy. When it is important to demonstrate you're worth, but the hook is a test. Always insist: it is useless to spend your life in shame. We must accept it as is and then commit to do. I do not know how I managed to convince, but my little factory work wonders.
1160 bears, 48 blankets, 370 between caps, gloves and scarves in 2009, my senior year in Racine, we have done miracles. Every so often some of the guys called me yet. "Eva, I need a little 'charge'. And you talk. Me, them, the teddy bear sewing. We understand each other on the fly. Yet I never let anyone see me.
Because there is a border between us. I am the teacher, the boys of their prison. And that's okay, you do not need to go further. Without my classes on time is long past, but now thankfully I have a new puppy to care. You must have seen a stray and the ugly, but I will manage to teach him to trust now.
Testimony collected by Enrica Caretta
Great job! Peple in prison etc need education, activities to build self confidence and a hope for future accomplishements. She did good. Systems should be set up to educate and build new lives instead of fine, punish and torture. Humanity needs humane treatment not the unjust justice systems of corrupt politics.
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