Martha Stewart's Christmas Letter
When one is incarcerated with 1,200 other odoriferous inmates, it is hard to be selfish at Christmas -- hard to think of Christmases past and Christmases future while smelling something akin to a melange of kerosene, mildew and mackerel.
So many of the women here in Alderson will never have the joy and well-being that a few of you and I experience. Many of them have been here for years -- devoid of care, devoid of love, devoid of family and devoid of even basic grooming acumen.
I beseech you all to think about these women -- to encourage the American people to ask for reforms, in sentencing guidelines, in decent toiletries, in length of incarceration for nonviolent first-time offenders, and for those involved in drug-taking who deign not to share.
They would be much better served in a true rehabilitation center than in prison where there is no culinary esthetic, no cultural stimulation, no real programs to rehabilitate, no programs to educate and no wardrobe or coiffure guidance to be prepared for life "out there" where each person will ultimately find herself, many with no skills, no table manners, no artiness and no preparation for living a life of good taste.
I am fine, really. I look forward to being home, to getting back to my valuable real estate and servants, to creating, cooking, and making television.
I have had time to think, time to write, time to exercise, time to not eat the hideously bad food, and time to walk and contemplate the future.
I've had my work here too. I have been washing, scrubbing, sweeping, vacuuming, raking leaves, decoupaging, throwing pottery, batiking, petit pointing, garnishing, sculpting, free basing and much more.
But like everyone else here, I would rather be doing all of this in my own home, and not here -- around these unkempt, felonious vulgarians of dubious sexual orientation.
I want to thank you again, and again, for your support and encouragement. You have been so terrific to me and to everyone who stood by me.
I appreciate everything you have done, your emails, your letters, the small packets of Valium and cocaine and your kind, kind words.
Now, if someone could kindly send me some eau de vie, a silk eye shade, some Egyptian cotton linens in 600-thread count or more, a few springs of fresh lavender, a bottle of Nutrisse Garnier in Summery Maize and an iPod filled with Andrea Bochelli, Wagnerian opera, YoYo Ma and other stimulating musical interludes, my holidays will be more serene.