Four times a year, David is allowed to receive a sort of CARE package, not to exceed 30 pounds. The number of boxes is decided according to security status, and they each can contain only food items or only what are considered "sundry" items. Initially, he was not allowed to receive anything, so when he was tranferred to a less secure status facility a number of years ago, so long ago that I don't remember exactly when, he gained that privilege.
The first food box contained a lot of cheese, some pizza makings, some chips, some canned meats and fish and ravioli, some microwave meals, some cookies and some candy and the all-important-to-David flavored coffee and creamer. Over time, David's requests changed as we learned what shipped well (the potato chips, not so much) and as he became more conscientious about his diet. I think too that the overwhelming temptation to eat too many sour Skittles resulted in mouth suffering that he decided just to avoid altogether. For me, it was a pleasure but also a challenge to assemble The Box, written with initial caps because it was so important. The restrictions as to weight but also as to carton size and to limits on numbers of products and to type of product package (plastic versus glass, see-through versus foil) created some anxiety. I usually bought too much and had to calculate and substitute, more than once in the parking lot of the post office. And one time the entire thing was returned to me because it was overweight by a few ounces. Then it was a scramble to put together another box and get it mailed by the last day of the month because boxes could only be received during certain months.
The early sundry boxes contained audiotapes (because at that time CD players were not allowed), clothing, slippers, pens, blankets, towels and I forget what else. Again, subject to strict rules about numbers of certain items, color of clothing items, etc. It took several tries to get an acceptable pair of "shower shoes" through. One pair were considered "sandals", which are not allowed. Along the way as David got more into school and had to have a typewriter, it became a thing to find ribbons and correction tape. And many times it was just impossible to get new audiotapes. When see-through CD players were finally permitted, it became easier to find the music he requested.
So with all the rigamarole involved in assembling The Box, you might think I'd be happy that the whole process was changed last year to eliminate the home-assembled packages. The way it works now is that there is a corporation, Keefe, that supplies many prison commisssaries and now is the sole provider of food and sundry boxes to inmates in many states, Ohio among them. Obviously, this eliminates a lot of security issues for prison administrators and staff since they know the source of the package and its contents and the limitations are built into the ordering form. It's a lot easier for the sender of the package too because the corporation website is very easy to navigate and there is no need to worry about finding the size box that will fit through an x-ray machine. The thing is, though, that I miss the ability to give my son a chance to choose what he likes from a wide variety of items, and I resent feeding what is very much a prison-industrial complex.
It was bittersweet fun to walk the aisles of Wal-Mart and Target looking for the right style and color of t-shirts and shorts and underwear and shower shoes and linens. It was a loving challenge to seek the unusual music David requested, which he now buys through a catalog when he wants to treat himself. And it was satisfying to get The Box on its way once I was fairly sure that the weight and everything else would meet approval. And then there was the enjoyment I could imagine David having and sharing as he made outrageous pizzas in the day-room microwave.
However, I always knew the day would come when I couldn't physically lift the bulky package in and out of my car and so ordering (t)he (b)oxes, no longer worthy of initial caps, with a few keystrokes and a credit card is probably an improvement, I still wish I could send David some Boboli pizza crusts or the special blueberry coffee creamer he covets. Typical of the way he thinks these days, he says that at least now he doesn't have to hurry and overeat perishable cheeses before they spoil. Sometimes he has a much better attitude than I do.
The first food box contained a lot of cheese, some pizza makings, some chips, some canned meats and fish and ravioli, some microwave meals, some cookies and some candy and the all-important-to-David flavored coffee and creamer. Over time, David's requests changed as we learned what shipped well (the potato chips, not so much) and as he became more conscientious about his diet. I think too that the overwhelming temptation to eat too many sour Skittles resulted in mouth suffering that he decided just to avoid altogether. For me, it was a pleasure but also a challenge to assemble The Box, written with initial caps because it was so important. The restrictions as to weight but also as to carton size and to limits on numbers of products and to type of product package (plastic versus glass, see-through versus foil) created some anxiety. I usually bought too much and had to calculate and substitute, more than once in the parking lot of the post office. And one time the entire thing was returned to me because it was overweight by a few ounces. Then it was a scramble to put together another box and get it mailed by the last day of the month because boxes could only be received during certain months.
The early sundry boxes contained audiotapes (because at that time CD players were not allowed), clothing, slippers, pens, blankets, towels and I forget what else. Again, subject to strict rules about numbers of certain items, color of clothing items, etc. It took several tries to get an acceptable pair of "shower shoes" through. One pair were considered "sandals", which are not allowed. Along the way as David got more into school and had to have a typewriter, it became a thing to find ribbons and correction tape. And many times it was just impossible to get new audiotapes. When see-through CD players were finally permitted, it became easier to find the music he requested.
So with all the rigamarole involved in assembling The Box, you might think I'd be happy that the whole process was changed last year to eliminate the home-assembled packages. The way it works now is that there is a corporation, Keefe, that supplies many prison commisssaries and now is the sole provider of food and sundry boxes to inmates in many states, Ohio among them. Obviously, this eliminates a lot of security issues for prison administrators and staff since they know the source of the package and its contents and the limitations are built into the ordering form. It's a lot easier for the sender of the package too because the corporation website is very easy to navigate and there is no need to worry about finding the size box that will fit through an x-ray machine. The thing is, though, that I miss the ability to give my son a chance to choose what he likes from a wide variety of items, and I resent feeding what is very much a prison-industrial complex.
It was bittersweet fun to walk the aisles of Wal-Mart and Target looking for the right style and color of t-shirts and shorts and underwear and shower shoes and linens. It was a loving challenge to seek the unusual music David requested, which he now buys through a catalog when he wants to treat himself. And it was satisfying to get The Box on its way once I was fairly sure that the weight and everything else would meet approval. And then there was the enjoyment I could imagine David having and sharing as he made outrageous pizzas in the day-room microwave.
However, I always knew the day would come when I couldn't physically lift the bulky package in and out of my car and so ordering (t)he (b)oxes, no longer worthy of initial caps, with a few keystrokes and a credit card is probably an improvement, I still wish I could send David some Boboli pizza crusts or the special blueberry coffee creamer he covets. Typical of the way he thinks these days, he says that at least now he doesn't have to hurry and overeat perishable cheeses before they spoil. Sometimes he has a much better attitude than I do.
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