I found this post quite by accident this evening simply because the author, Lexa, liked a comment I made elsewhere. You never know what you might find in blogland. Because I write about prisons and prison life, a post and pictures about Alcatraz fits right in. I, too, had no idea it had been claimed by Indians after if closed down.
I used to live across the bay from San Francisco and drove within sight of Alcatraz more times than I could count. I often told myself to make time to go, but so often we don’t take the time to go to the places near us.
I didn’t know then where my life was going to be today and that it would such a large part of what I do. Sometimes life takes a sharp turn to the left when we least expect it.
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I felt so alive on Alcatraz.
And this wasn’t because my senses were heightened due to the bone-chilling wind sweeping and whistling through the glass-less windows of the derelict buildings and into my ear lobes. Cold may I add that made my teeth and chest hurt as we were waiting for our tour to start.
No, it was more than that.
The island has a tangible energy.
And it wasn’t, as you may suspect, a bad energy. No, there was definitely an exciting air of – how can I best describe it? – “delinquent entrepreneurial spirit” whirling around the rock. I could sense it, buzzing excitedly in the harsh gusts. I guess I was really surprised I felt this. I wasn’t expecting it.
Taking a disciplined approach to describing our tour and distilling my top 2 “likes” of our day (it is hard but I want to remain focused):
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