Life's Too Short

*Brandon called yesterday saying they got their first call on a fire. He was so excited but didn't know any details nor when he'd be able to call. 

They say that you become like the people you surround yourself with...this idea has and continues to be something I think about every single day here in prison-where it is pretty difficult to control who you are surrounded by. I'd like to think that I'm not someone who is easily changed by an environment but there are times where it's hard to see subtle changes in your behavior. I always appreciate visits from people so that I can test myself against the laws of relativity. 

I guess whether one is in prison or not, it's safe to say that it's the small and simple things that make a difference in who we are. If we fail to eat right and exercise, it may not matter today but ultimately, there will be consequences. It's the same with our spiritual, mental and emotional well-being. It's the same for our relationships-if we neglect the small things, they eventually become big things and big things are always harder to fix. I'm ashamed to admit that this week I screwed up and just writing about it causes my heart to hurt.

Prison is full of tough guys-some of them real, most of them fake. The environment dictates the need for a certain amount of macho behavior so that you can put off a sense of strength. Anyone who puts off any signs of weakness is vulnerable to the many dangers that are associated with prison. For the most part, my size has allowed me to not have to participate in the cat and mouse game of who is tough and who is not. I try and live by the same rules that I have always lived by-treat everyone kindly and with respect. There have only been a couple of times in here where I had to puff out my chest and play the game- and they were completely necessary and justified. But something I did this week has me questioning if I'm really doing everything I can to avoid becoming a tragedy of my environment.

Each week there are 6-10 inmates who leave this facility to move on to the next phase of their sentence. Likewise, 6-10 more inmates are brought here from another facility. This is the circle of life here in prison. 

At our facility, every single inmate is required to have a job- kitchen, laundry, grounds-crew, maintenance, fire, etc. So as inmates leave, positions are vacated and the new guys back-fill those positions. This week, one of the positions that was vacated was a laundry position and it was filled by a 21 year old kid nicknamed Bomber. Bomber filled the laundry position that was in charge of collecting all of our laundry bags each night and making sure that they get taken to laundry in a big bin. I've been in here long enough to see my fair share of 20-something year old's come and go. They are typically cocky as ever, gang affiliated, or wannabe's and are almost always disrespectful.

 As inmates walk by and throw their laundry in the bin, they are required to yell out an inmate specific laundry number. Bomber was doing his best to to keep up but it was obvious he was new. As I threw my number, "1-8-no-1-9" for some reason I had briefly forgotten my number and it caused me to stutter. In response to my stuttering, Bomber stuttered as he tried to repeat what numbers I had said. I took him stuttering back as him mocking me and it set me off. I got right up in his face and looked down at him and told him never to disrespect me again. As I stood over him, he twisted and wrenched his face which looked like a smirk to me- it just made me madder and I gave him a stare as I turned around and walked away mad as ever. For the next three days, every time I saw Bomber I made sure to let him know that I was watching him. His little mocking of me had really made me mad-and in here you don't let people disrespect you.

One evening, I was walking around the track with some guys and Bomber was walking in front of us. I found myself just seething with rage thinking about how he had acted towards me. I was going to confront him again but decided I wouldn't ruin my evening walk.

Later that night I was venting to my buddy Stokey about the whole situation and he told me I was completely overreacting and needed to let it go. He suggested that I go and just talk to Bomber and get things straightened out. I finally just went down to Bomber's room and knocked. He reluctantly opened the door and I immediately asked him, "Why were you so disrespectful to me the other day? What's wrong with you?" As I was spitting the words out, I could see in his eyes that he was scared of me and what I had to say to him. He tried to talk but I interrupted him and said again, "what's wrong with you?" I gave him a chance to respond and he stuttered, "I-I-I-I-ha-ha-have-cer-cer-bral-pa-palsy." As I heard the words stutter out of his mouth, my heart sank like it never has before - and tears welled up in my eyes. 

How could I have been so ignorant? My tender, beautiful daughter Navy's face flashed in my mind. All of the times that she has come home from school crying because someone had made fun of her in gym class because she couldn't run like everyone else. Why she can't jump rope, "why does she walk funny?", all these horribly stupid, cruel questions kids have asked her. My Navy would cry so many times because she wanted to be able to dance like other girls, play soccer like her sister, she just wanted to be "normal." As her Dad, it would rip my heart out hearing all those things. I remember the anger that I have felt towards these kids and wondered how humans could be so mean to each other; and yet there I stood, towering over a boy with cerebral palsy-intimidating him. I had been too mad over my pride being hurt to take the time that first night to understand that Bomber actually had a stuttering problem. I had been too caught up in myself as I walked behind him that night on the track to recognize the familiar subtle limp, twisted legs and moderate palsy that had always been apart of my sweet baby girl's life. I just kept thinking of Navy and how disappointed she would have been in her Dad, I was sick to my stomach.

What I couldn't see, but would later learn about, were the scars under his inmate pants. The tell-tale signs of years of corrective surgeries- all of which I was all too familiar with. I had held my baby girl Navy many times as she recovered from the same agonizing, painful surgeries. 

As I snapped back into the moment, I realized that Bomber was still staring at me in fear, waiting out the purpose of me being in his room. He flinched as I brought my hands up to grab him; there was nothing he could do to stop the madman who was now hugging him. For all Bomber knew about prison, I'm sure a hug from a very large man was no indication that he was out of the woods yet. But as I hugged him, I told him that I was so sorry and it was then that he really broke my heart with the words, "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I'm-s-s-s-s-s-sor-sorry-t-t-too." After letting Bomber go from my giant embrace, I could slowly see the fear leave his eyes. He had survived his first prison altercation and the hug had not materialized into his worst fears. As he stepped back from me, he said something that I will never forget- "L-l-l-l-ife-i-i-is-ttt-too-sh-sh-short-ttt-t-t-oo-b-b-be-an-an-angry."

Needless to say, Bomber has a new adopted father and an entire wildland firefighting crew as bodyguards here in the Rifle Correctional Center.

As wildland firefighters we spend a lot of time on fire mitigation-removing dangerously dry debris from high risk areas. Our arch-nemesis is a tree called a Russian Olive. The Russian Olive is a tree/brush that is covered in thorns and causes all sorts of problems wherever it is found. The biggest problem with the Russian Olive is that is consumes 10x more water than a normal tree. By consuming so much water, the tree literally sucks the life out of all the other trees and bushes in the area. Nothing else can survive or grow in its   vicinity. The beautiful trees that may otherwise be able to grow in an area are stripped of precious water and are left as dried out, high risk fire material. As firefighters we come in with our chainsaws and cut out all of the Russian Olive Trees. We have literally cut out trees and returned the next day to find running streams where there had previously been only dry Russian Olive covered ground. You could see the life returning to the whole ecosystem as water flowed where it previously had not. 

I've spent a lot of time over the last two years being angry. Angry at myself for some of my poor choices, angry at my former employer Wood Group for taking this situation to such extremes, angry at the media, the DA, the Judge, even God himself at times. I'm ashamed to admit that at times I've wasted hours and days plotting vengeance in the form of an expose, tell-all blog post about my former employer. My anger consumed me at times to where I could not think of anything else. 

Its safe to say that anger is a lot like the Russian Olive Trees that I spent my days fighting against. Once we let anger get into our hearts, it is an all-consuming monster. It robs us of happiness, logic, love, patience, and every other gift associated with the Light Of Christ. If we allow it to thrive it will eventually destroy the spiritual ecosystem that is meant to give us life.

As I approach my four-month anniversary of incarceration, I am happy to say that I am not angry anymore. I've given all of my anger to God-and I'll let vengeance be his as well. I've spent countless hours of my life working on both literal and figurative mitigation of Russian Olive Trees. As I've mitigated my anger with spiritual chainsaws, I have felt this spiritual life-blood return to my soul. I hope that we can all find it within ourselves to mitigate the anger out of our hearts because as Bomber said so profoundly....

LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO BE ANGRY

Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Felon, 416 Fire, Silver Creek Fire, Spring Fire, Cabin Lake Fire