Jack Kopp Was My Friend

Tell you the truth I had completely forgotten how uptight DOC people are. I was so relieved that a number of my friends were there. And some people I took a look at, to see if they've changed at all. Well, maybe next time. But nice to see some of the other retirees, showing up for Jack's memorial service. He was a good friend to some of us, especially in the "old days."

I remember and will never forget the way he looked out for Richard and me. He kept calling to offer me this job in Spokane, and I kept saying not without Richard. So finally he calls and he says, "I've been holding this job for you for seven months. How long do I have to hold it?" "Not without Richard," I said. So he worked it out to where there were three openings and he told the other two supervisors that one of them had to take Richard or he wouldn't get me. They interviewed together for the three jobs. Tanya Marlton took Richard into the Sex Offender Unit and Jack took me into Level 6, as it was known then, aka Minimum. I told him at the time if he could pull that off, I'd send him flowers. When we got to Spokane I did just that. Boy was he embarrassed!

Then there was the "Gretchen Era." There weren't many of us who stood up to that. Jack and I both did though. It's another one of those things you don't forget. Who stands up when it's downright dangerous to do it.

I remember when Jack initiated the Drug Unit in Spokane. He'd already decided on Jack Brucick as Lead and Gheorghe Turcin as one of the CCOs. He comes to me and says, "Why haven't I gotten your letter of interest yet?" "You're not going to," I said. "Why not?" "I don't want to work with those two MCPs," I said. "Well," he says, "then I guess I'll know who to appoint, won't I?" This is called the handwriting is on the wall. So I put the letter in. It was inevitable anyway. And those two were in my office right away, suggesting that they should do all the field work and I could be the "administrative" officer and do all the reports and filing. I said exactly six words. "Guys, I am a field officer." And that was the end of that. I guess it really worked out okay. I was a good officer. I didn't need either of them to help me do my job.

One time when minimum was on the third floor at the Broadway Office, he called me in to his office. I knew it was a chewing out, but I couldn't imagine what for. "Why," he said, "are you going down to the second floor all the time to help them make arrests?" "Because they asked me," I said. "They have other female officers," he pointed out. "Oh." "Stop going down there. You work up here." "Yes Sir."

And then when they were investigating the sex offender Coughlin, and I was refusing to be interviewed by Personnel, he called me in then too. "Why aren't you telling Personnel what you know about that situation?" he said. "Because, it would ruin my life," I said. "Woman," he said, "get your feet on the ground! You can't let that woman hang out there without support. What are you thinking about?" Basically, he shamed me into it. And I was right. I remember when Dave Savage called me after it was all over. "Why," he wanted to know, "didn't you ever report this?" "Because," I said, "I knew it was going to ruin my life, and I was right!"

I know that in the end, he was the one who decided I wouldn't go back to a CCO position in the field. My years of reasonable accommodation had run out, and I was losing my Headquarters job. Nanette wanted to hire me as a CCO in the Valley Office, and it was looking better to me all the time. I was sitting in Nanette's office when she called him about it. He had no idea I was sitting there. She never told me what he said, but I guessed he didn't want a disabled CCO. Maybe he thought I couldn't handle the job anymore, which was probably true. I probably couldn't. My health was shot, even if I wasn't ready to admit it. But it felt pretty bad to be left out in the cold by one of my oldest friends. So instead of going back to the field, I ended up at Pine Lodge, where I could barely do the job. It was a disaster. The only part I was any good at was Grievances, and of course counseling the offenders. But I never even started to understand prison policies and rules. It was torture for me to feel like such an idiot.

I was a little angry with Jack about that. But when I saw him at Bill Quayle's funeral, it was like none of that had ever happened. He walked up behind me and leaned over my shoulder and said, "Hi." I turned to see who it was, and when I saw it was Jack, I just beamed. I was happy to see him. He was hollow-eyed and gaunt and he didn't have any hair left to speak of. I was happy to see him, but I was also shocked.

I kept hearing how sick he was from my friends who worked for DOC, so one day when I was in town I went by to see him. He looked terrible. I took a long look at him and said, "Jack, what the hell are you doing?" "I'm working," he said. "I work for a living." He was really steamed. Of course, there was nothing unusual about Jack yelling at me. I remember one time he was in my office and we were having an argument about something. Lois came in and told us we needed to keep it down. I remember he just turned his head toward her, and made this hand movement that amounted to brushing her off. He was right, of course, there was nothing wrong. We were just talking, like we talked. So it was loud.

He was the best Supervisor I ever had, and I had a couple of good ones along with the bad, which was what I mostly had. While I worked for Jack, I never doubted myself or my ability, and I didn't worry about what was happening at HQ or anywhere else for that matter. He had us covered.

As a human being, I saw that Jack was far from perfect. He was pig-headed for one thing. Once he made up his mind about something, he was a pain in the ass about it. He didn't doubt himself quite enough for my taste. He could have been more open to other points of view. But in spite of our differences, which were many, he always respected me and my abilities. And I always respected him.

When Jack hired me, he told me he needed two things from me...one was to work hard, and the other one was loyalty. Once I gave him that, I never took it back. I don't think I ever turned down a direct request from him, regardless of who I actually worked for. And my loyalty, well he had that all the way to the end.

Jack Kopp was my friend.

A Gut Feeling: Is there any such thing?

I've lived my whole life trusting my gut feelings. My intuition about things and people and situations. I've always had the impression that it served me well, like an early warning system, alerting me to something wrong. Guiding me to steer clear. It's a tried and true survival system. Ignore it at your peril.

So now I go to this Landmark seminar, and they're urging us to invite our friends and family to a session, so they too can share in this empowering education, and an alarm goes off in my gut the size of the state of Kentucky. I immediately feel manipulated and used. Pushed and put upon and angry. I mean here is this company that doesn't advertise. They get all of their business through word of mouth. They sell training in empowerment, self-expression and freedom in life. And I even like the product. But there is this constant pressure to share it and bring people to an introduction, so they can become customers too.

Over the last several years, I've taken several of their courses and I find value in the strategies they teach. And though I've never liked the pressure to invite people to the programs, I haven't had a reaction of this magnitude. But last week, something primal, visceral and compelling rose up in me, and the internal resistance to being pushed to invite people initiated a fight or flight reaction. My chest tightened and I wanted to scream. It turned into an overpowering aversion to being there at all.

The notion that there is something going on that is not good for me arose in my thoughts, and I found myself examining the program for additional flaws. I did online searches and watched a French TV program that claimed to expose the program as a cult that uses brainwashing to seduce its clientele. I watched and I listened and I wondered where all that is coming from. In my experience, which is substantial, Landmark is definitely not a cult, and there is no brainwashing going on. On the contrary, the program taxes you to think past your assumptions, manage your mental filters and take responsibility for being the cause of your own life.

The technique involves suspending your disbelief long enough to consider other possibilities for how you view life and make choices. Alternatives to your accepted reality present themselves and opportunities open up. There is room for creativity where before there was resignation. An example is my relationship to being a polio survivor. Most people would agree that I had no choice about having polio. It just happened. I can resist or accept. Doesn't that seem obvious? But in Landmark, there is another possibility. I can actually choose polio. This has nothing at all to do with what's true. But choice is a more powerful place to stand, or come from with respect to my circumstances, i.e. having polio. In the moment that I suspend my disbelief and choose polio, I gain a sense of power and freedom, out of which I then see possibilities for thinking and action beyond what was previously available to me. I am now, as they say in Landmark "at choice." True or not, it feels and works better.

Is this living in a lie? Is it playing a game? Maybe so, but how much of what we think we know is really created anyway? If we are story tellers, why not tell a story that empowers you? Why not tell the story that makes you feel good about yourself and your life? That's what Landmark is selling.

Now suddenly I have this reaction, this powerful emotional opposition. I can see myself at age five, being held down on a hospital bed while an angry and frustrated nurse shoves a suppository into my butt. I'm screaming, and she hurts me. To this day, I wonder if she was out of control too. Beside herself with this hysterical five year old who wouldn't cooperate with being in an isolation room for three weeks with a high fever and limbs that were no longer working, and no access to her Mommy. They were forcing me, making me do things against my will, and I was fighting back.

The next memory that comes up is being molested by my brother, being made to do things I didn't want to do, allow him to touch me in ways I didn't want to be touched, holding in my outrage, tolerating the intolerable. For years. The next memory that comes up for me is of being raped. I think I was 19. He held me down. He made a point of hurting me and told me if I fought back he would hurt me more. I controlled myself, made myself allow it, disgust roiling inside me like poison.

All these memories came percolating up inside my mind and body. Is it any wonder I don't want to go back to the seminar? Nobody in their right mind wants to feel those feelings, relive those memories. But wait! All they did was tell us to bring guests. And I've already said I like the training. So what's the deal?

I'm open to suggestions.