The evening began with volunteers, board members, friends and family of Conspire advocates happily crafting away on the picnic tables at the outdoor venue. A list of raffle prizes and Conspire’s mission statement were cut and pasted onto fun colored scrap booking paper, and gold duct taped to tables to save them from the fantastic breeze. The giant pecan trees protected the crowd from the late day sun. Conspire’s welcome table was set up - complete with a pink caboodle for a money box - we were ready to accept donations! Stephanie, with her cute-retro-cat-eyed specs, came out on behalf of Geeks Who Drink to act as our Quiz announcer. She was superb!

Sweet, sweet technology allowed us to plug in Squares to smart phones and swipe the night away. ALL RAFFLE TICKETS WERE SOLD! WOOHOO! All parties, whether they were there for the quiz or not, had a great attitude and seemed very interested in learning more about Conspire. There was a [hot] foreign racing team who’d just finished up at the Circuit of Americas, a Belgian who had just landed at Bergstrom minutes before, Dean the Australian was visiting his friend Lee (who happens to run with the Austin improv crowd) - all of these great guys supported Conspire (even knowing they wouldn’t be in town long enough to reap any of the local prizes). How generous!

About ten till 9, the packed tables relied on the romantic glow of overhead strung lighting (or the obnoxious rainbow flashing lights on a battery-powered pair of bunny ears). Prizes were awarded, tabs were paid and tables cleared. Kat’s sister took a few candid group photos of the Conspire ladies. Everybody was exhausted, a little sweaty – and smiling. Lessons were learned and money was earned! Now we’re ready to gear up for our NEXT big event: Performing Possibilities in July! So take a much deserved break, self-hug and pat on the back – you did a doggone hellacious job.

Conspire Theatre couldn’t have pulled Monday night off without your support, dedication and hard work. Major thanks you guys. We’re so excited to use these new-found funds and fans to get back to what’s important: the incarcerated and released women of Texas -helping them heal, get creative, feel empowered and be productive members of society. Grow with us! Spread the word, stay positive and check back soon for event pix! As Conspire’s directors would say, its time for a GROUP HIGH FIVE!

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http://bangersaustin.com/

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MAY 20TH * BANGER’S * 7-9PM

Hope you enjoyed Lauren’s writing. We have more! As promised, we’ll be switching from prose to poetry, and begin posting submissions penned by incarcerated women from all over Texas. We couldn’t be more honored that women are allowing us to share their writing on Conspire’s blog. It proves that our mission is worth pursuing and our efforts are being felt! Thanks you for supporting a great non-profit. Help us keep going - keep our classes opening up in creative ways, writing and enjoying the benefits that theater has to offer - by clicking on the Donate button on the Conspire web page. Join the conspiracy – that all women matter!

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In 2003 my grandparents made a simple will and had it notarized.  I had seen one of its many copies at the time of Papaw’s death. When it was made, I was in prison. My uncle wasn’t, and my grandparents believed (at the time) that I had stolen from their home. That wasn’t the case, but since I had stolen from my uncle before, I understood.  The will mentioned only a few people specifically; I wasn’t among them. It made me a little sad. I felt forgotten, but didn’t want to bring it up because it wasn’t any of my business. There was only one thing I wanted anyway – but it was specifically designated to a cousin of mine.

Sometime last year, my grandmother told me to get her jewelry box. She had me go through and pick out the things I wanted. The only jewelry she wore any longer was her wedding ring, and a ring my uncle had given her after his failed engagement. When we were at the hospital she had told me where her rings were in the house. She didn’t say it in a way that indicated she wanted me to have them – it was just a passing comment about her taking them off before she checked in for safekeeping. I went to the house, saw them in the box and put them on. Honestly I thought many times about telling my family a story that she told me to keep them.  But my conscience got the best of me. I am not that person anymore.

On the day of her death I told my family members who were there, the truth: that she told me where they were, that I knew the will designated them for the cousin, but the will was old and I would like to have them. I made it clear that I would not fight over it. If I had to, I would hand them over – but they were on my finger. I spent the next week hoping my cousin would decide that it wasn’t important to her. Or that maybe I had earned it with my sacrifice. I sent her an email telling her it would mean a lot to me if I could keep them. I got no response. It was the only thing on my mind for the week. I hoped my cousin would agree to let me keep the rings. Or that my uncle might deem it appropriate to make a judgment call in my favor. It also filled me with anxiety that I would have to turn them over. I held on to hope on the day of the memorial service (that I put together). And up through the reception. And beyond, when we all went back to the house to visit and eat (the meal that I spent hours preparing the day prior).

My uncle very diplomatically told me I needed to give my cousin the ring. I had known this might happen. I’d known it would break my heart. And even knew that I never should’ve taken them in the first place. I knew all along that it was only a ring. I have rings of more monetary value than that one! And money in the bank to go purchase one like it, or better, if I chose. I knew all along it wasn’t so much about the ring – but the thoughts and emotions I had tied to it, that never belonged there in the first place. Knowing all these things didn’t stop it from breaking my heart that I’d have to give it away. I went out to my vehicle and cried – ugly, sobbing cries – for a long time. I kept thinking I would be able to stop , and then I could go back inside. But I wound up having to go back inside to stop the crying. Even then it was only for brief periods.

My cousin was very sweet; she hugged me and told me to let her know if she could help. In my juvenile mind I wanted to say, “of course you can help: give me the ring back”. But in my right mind, I knew that it wasn’t fair of me to have asked her in the first place. I knew telling the truth and giving it back was the right thing to do. In retrospect, I wonder if my conscience would have hurt me this much had I followed through with my evil plan. I know there are many lessons to be gained from this whole painful experience.

My feelings shouldn’t have been tied to a ring. My grandmother forgave me for the rocky past I led so many years ago. She believed me when I told her that I had never stolen from her. She loved me unconditionally – regardless of those things I did. She was proud of the woman, and mother that I had become. She was grateful for all the help I was to her over the last few years. She never missed an opportunity to tell me these things. Unfortunately in a single week I made that ring mean that I was forgiven, loved, appreciated. It was a symbol of the love that she and Papaw shared for 34 years. 7 years ago, my Papaw married my husband and I in their home. That ring meant all these things and more to me – but it was never mine to place meaning on.

Not having that ring forces me to miss her; it forces me to acknowledge how I set myself up for this heartbreak. Not having that ring makes me realize, yet again, that knowledge in my head doesn’t always translate to my heart. I cry a little less now, but it will take time. I’m ashamed to admit that a part of me still hopes that my cousin will change her mind. I will get over missing the ring though. Mostly, I miss my Mimi.

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By the time I arrived they had gotten her pain under control and she was sleeping soundly for the first time in days. I placed my power of attorney on file at the hospital and the doctor came in to speak to us. Mimi didn’t hear the conversation. It was just her sister and me there. The news came in doses. They had done a CT scan when she arrived; it showed cancer in her liver, lungs and kidneys. They were going to send the pulmonologist in to talk to us about what would come next. He would assess her, decide which way would be least invasive to do a biopsy to find out what kind of cancer it was, and go from there. I spent most of that day there waiting, then finally went home. The nurse found out the pulmonologist would be there in the morning and I made arrangements to be there.

When I returned to the hospital the next morning, Mimi was awake. Her words were a little slurred, but she seemed to be becoming more and more coherent. I did my best to help make her comfortable, but it was often short lived. I brushed her dentures, combed her hair and helped her get positioned in the bed. I got her some coffee with half and half (the only way she’ll drink it) and as she began to liven up some, I tried to prepare her for what the doctor was going to say. Although I had her power of attorney, I had no intention of steam rolling her out of the process, especially if she seemed to have the mental capacity to make decisions. I gave the news in small doses. Her responses varied from denial to avoidance. When the doctor came in, looked her in the eyes and said, “You have cancer”, her response was a quiet “No I don’t…but go ahead”. Then the next round of news came.

The doctor told her that there are two reasons people do biopsies: when you have a need or desire to know what kind of cancer it is, and to figure out what course of treatment is recommended based on the results. Then he said that in her case, the second reason was off the table. It didn’t matter what kind of cancer it was, because he wouldn’t recommend treatment. She likely wouldn’t be able to endure it and it would only make her worse. He asked her if she wanted to know what kind of cancer she had. I felt the weight of the universe come over us. In a cloud, she suddenly looked more confused than I have ever seen her. She muttered simply, “Baby, help me.” Based on the information he had given us, I didn’t see any need to put her through unnecessary stress or discomfort. But I still wanted to be diligent. I asked him hopefully, “but, what if it’s the treatable kind of cancer, couldn’t it be that?” The look in his eyes said it all. He pulled me to the computer and showed me the scans. The cancer had advanced rapidly and wrapped around her bronchial tube, restricting her air intake. I didn’t want to ask him to play God, but I wanted to make the best use of our time. The prognosis gave her three weeks to three months.

I now had to relay that information to all the family members to discuss what our next steps would be. I hoped anyone would help with the upcoming hardships. Throughout that day I tried several times to have a conversation with Mimi and include her in the decision making process. It appeared our options were few. The hospital wouldn’t keep her forever and we had to develop a plan. Every time I started to talk about it, she would come back with a joke or make some wise crack. When I called her on it, she said she knew it was serious, but she didn’t want to think about it. She told me she didn’t want to cry. All she really wanted was to go home and stay in the house that she and Papaw had made together, until she went to be with him.

In order for that to happen, someone would have to be with her around the clock. I hoped that, in light of this turn of events, someone would volunteer to make her a priority for the short time she had left. But I completely recognized the impracticality of that happening, and was left feeling frustrated. My heart ached every time she repeated her one desire. I left the hospital that day thinking we could take advantage of a skilled nursing facility for the few weeks, to help her build up her strength. Maybe Medicare would cover the cost, just until we figured out the next step. All along the way I kept trying to figure out a solution that would give her both what she wanted and what she needed. I just couldn’t come up with it. I went home drained. I fell asleep with these thoughts permeating my dreams. I woke up at 4 am and turned to my husband (who I hadn’t had more than a few conversations with in days), and said, “I think I’m going to bring Mimi home to live with us.”  Without hesitation he said okay. As I unraveled the events of the last few days to him he suggested, “Why don’t you just go stay with her?” Well, of course I had considered that – but I have a job, a husband and three children! We weren’t talking about a few miles away. But he gave me the encouragement and support I needed, and we worked out the details.

I told Mimi I’d need a few days to get things prepared. While Mimi was clearly happy to hear the news, a few days wouldn’t be fast enough for her. She made it a point to let everyone know she wanted to be home! Once again I found myself trying to figure out how I could rearrange my life to get her home sooner. I didn’t know then, that this would be the last day we could talk to each other. I saw the hardships ahead. I saw she was constantly crying in pain and discomfort.  By the end of the day she only spoke in brief sentences, “I can’t breathe. I hurt. Help me.” I would ask her how I could help and she would muffle a cry of, “I don’t know”. I began to have bouts of anxiety as I would wonder if I really knew what I had just signed on for. I imagined being away from home for weeks or months. I hoped that it wouldn’t be that long, and then felt awful for what that meant.

The next day hospice got all the papers in order. I was told there was a possibility that I could have a nurse with me for the first night. We were to set things up at the house and the hospital would bring Mimi to us. It pretty much happened that way. The nurse came out to meet us too, which I later realized was a sign that had progressed more than I knew.  When the ambulance arrived with Mimi, she was restless and in pain, but not coherent beyond that. It took a while to stabilize her with pain medication. A few friends and family members dropped in for a brief time.  I stayed up talking to the first nurse until another one came at 10pm. I fell asleep for a few hours and woke up at 4am. Both nurses had prepared me that Mimi probably wasn’t going to make it through the night. They told me her blood pressure had steadily dropped from 100, to 90, and then 75. I knew I’d better not go back to sleep. I sat in the chair next to her. I held her hand. I spoke to her a few times. I told her that her children would be there in a few hours, if she could hold on that long. I told her if she couldn’t, Papaw and Jesus were waiting for her. She would be loved no matter where she was. And we sat there.

She took her last breath around 7:30 that morning. I waited a minute or two before I went to the back of the house and began to cry. I had been calm up to then. Her son from Oklahoma was five minutes away when she died.  I stayed to see my aunt arrive later in the day and watch them take my grandmother out. Then finally, exhausted, I went home.

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When I got the message from my 78 year old grandmother’s caregiver, I didn’t want to go. My grandmother, Mimi, had developed pneumonia. Although they’d caught it pretty early, she had also fallen in her kitchen and was in a lot of pain from the fall. Nothing was broken, but she was unable to be by herself. The caregiver had gone above and beyond the call of duty by staying with her for two days. But she had to get back to her other clients and her own life. We needed to get Mimi through the weekend. That meant driving an hour away, to a cell phone and computer Dead Zone. I’d made the trip many times, especially in the last three years, since my grandfather had become ill and passed away. To help care for them both several times a week, I was driving back and forth to hospitals and their home. I was happy to be able to help but was also over whelmed; it was a burden in more ways than one. At one point, we were looking into this being my full-time job in hopes I could get paid by a government agency. The work was putting such a strain on my family at home and having the chance to get paid to do it would alleviate some of that. Unfortunately, before that came to fruition I got the charges that led to my last incarceration of seven months. However, I knew the jail time was inevitable so thankfully I was able to prepare before it happened.

Before I went for my stay, my grandmother began receiving services from an agency to have someone come out and do the things I had been doing. Also, my mother (who is not Mimi’s daughter and divorced from my father) lived only a few miles from Mimi. While I was gone my mom stepped up to help me, by helping Mimi. Her or her husband would do the weekly grocery shopping trips that I’d been doing. It wasn’t comprehensive, but it was something. Cheryl came out twice a week, and by the time I got home they had a good relationship built. My efforts weren’t required as much. At first I was a little bit jealous (I hate to admit that). I knew it was probably best and needed to work on my ability to let go. I felt the need to micro manage everything, so I stepped back some. My mother and I alternated weeks to do things for Mimi and I began getting busy in my own life again.

Because it was such a far drive (round trip would to take up most of a day), I’d call Mimi to ask her if she had a list. Rarely did she say no. It would frustrate me when it was five non-essential items; even more so, when I would get to her house and see she already had plenty of what she asked me to pick up. Not that I didn’t enjoy my visits with her, but a simple phone call could have replaced all that driving.

In the time leading up to my grandfather’s death, I stepped up to the plate. My grandparents had given me a home more than once in my life.  I am the oldest of ten grandchildren. Mimi had four children, my father was the oldest. He had no car, lived almost as far from Mimi as me, and was the sole provider for his wife and son, who had a seizure disorder and severe mental retardation. Taking on yet another caregiver role – for Mimi – was not an option. I had an uncle who used to live next door to Mimi; he was very involved until he went to prison. Another uncle lived in Oklahoma and there was an aunt in Louisiana. Basically everyone had their own lives built in other places, or their own reasons for not being able to help. It also didn’t help that Mimi was stubborn, headstrong, and wanted to do things her way. So as I appeared to be most able to help, I felt obligated to do so. She wouldn’t consider another option.

Sad to say, a part of me held a small amount of resentment towards all the people who (I felt) should have made more of an effort to help her, but were unwilling to make sacrifices in their own lives. My helping her required sacrifices! She was eternally grateful though, and never missed an opportunity to let me know it. But when I got that message, I wanted someone else to make a sacrifice for a change! I had three young children, a job, and a million other things to do. Why should it always be me? I called my brother (who was recently unemployed) and asked if he would be willing to go if I drove him. He said yes. I breathed a sigh of relief and sent a message back telling Cheryl the plan – only to receive a text back saying Mimi wouldn’t feel comfortable if he had to help her go to the bathroom. Even though I could empathize, I also wanted to scream, “Work with me Mimi!” After the brat child inside of me calmed down, I realized that someone had to do it. And probably no one else could or would. I told Cheryl that I would come out both days to sit with her. I love my Mimi but I wasn’t looking forward to sitting in the middle of nowhere while my mind ran rampant with the list of things I couldn’t get done from there.

Turns out I didn’t need to worry about that.

The next morning I woke up to see a text from Cheryl. Mimi had been having more trouble breathing and was hurting more. They decided to give in and go to the hospital. I told them I’d be there shortly, and was asked to bring the medical power of attorney we’d made.

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• Raising hell and raising funds

Kat and Michelle managed to wrangle together a terrific group of volunteers to act as Conspire’s very own Fundraising Committee! The team is working hard coordinating this summer’s big event – a fundraising extravaganza! (Well, a super fun night where everybody wins.) Dust off your fancy pants and your thinking cap and tell your friends you’ll be attending the gala of the century. We’ll meet you there to kick some trivia butt, have a beer and hand out some sweet prizes! For now, mark your calendars: the evening of May 20th, you will be doing some good!

• Write on!!

We’re honored and humbled to have received creative writing submissions from our own board members, as well as permission to publish from some of our class participants. Every woman has a voice, and these women have put their experiences on paper. Please check back soon to read these inspiring stories and poems from the women who have lived through it and are surviving.

• Q&A, record and play.

Rumors are flying that local celebs Kat Craft and Michelle Dahlenburg have agreed to hold a very exclusive interview with burgeoning blogger who, like Cher or Prince, goes by one name and one name only. Rest assured there will be more than one question – oh yes, your quest to know every detail of these brilliant women’s lives will be satiated. Angelina Jolie will seem like a lame hermit after this round of questioning. Are you excited? There will be video clips!

Thank you Conspire family - you inspired all of this! Have a wonderful week.

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Monday, May 20th, 2012 at Bangers Sausage House from 7 – 9 pm

Conspire Theatre, Geeks Who Drink, and Bangers are all teaming up to bring you a terrific fundraising event to support Conspire’s arts-based programming for women in jail, and for women post-incarceration.

What it is: A pub quiz put together by trivia experts Geeks Who Drink on Bangers’ awesome outside patio. Bangers features a wide selection of both meat and vegetarian options, a wide variety of beers, and nonalcoholic beverages. If you don’t drink, don’t worry – there will be plenty of alternatives for you.

What’s a pub quiz? It’s a trivia event, where teams compete against each other to see who can get the most correct answers. There will be different rounds with subjects like: Pop Culture, Music, Women in Movies, etc A quiz master calls out the questions, and the teams discuss the answers and write them down. Each team turns in their answer sheet at the end of each round.

How to participate: Captain a team, join a team, or donate to a team.  For our quiz, each team will have 6 members.

Where does the fundraising come in? Each team will have its own fundraising page on Razoo.com and will be responsible for raising $600 (or more!) before the actual event on May 20th. That’s just $100 a person. Each team’s page can link up to Facebook, Twitter, etc. The team who raises the most money also gets a fabulous prize.

I have to set up a fundraising page?? No, we’ll do it for you and it’s a really simple platform that your whole team can join and have control over.

What if I don’t live in Austin but want to help? You could donate to another team or even start a long-distance team. You don’t have to be in Austin to raise money.

I want to get involved! Email Kat Craft at info@conspiretheatre.org and she will hook you up.

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Here’s what KLRU has to say about the event:

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