Two abstract oil paintings, a length of rainbow ribbon, 1 pair each women's sandals, nondescript black walking shoes, white pumps of the sort bridesmaids dye to match their dresses, and...

...a copy of A Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan.

I just now got home tonight.  It was dark when I arrived, and deliciously chilly.  I spent the evening with four other women and an 8th-grade girl, spinning wool into yarn.  As I pulled up to the house, I couldn't park right in front because a bike with an attached, laden trailer was where I normally would have parked the car.  Perched on our bench was the rider, his helmet still on.  He positioned himself on the arm closest to our front stairs so that he could catch some porch light to read by.  He was reading A Pilgrim's Progress.  I have not read it myself. 

Did you know that A Pilgrim's Progress was written while Bunyan was in prison (or, as the Brits called it, "gaol" - which until quite recently I pronounced in my head gay-ole)?  It makes me think of other famous imprisoned people: Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Jr., Oscar Wilde, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Dostoevsky.  Imprisoned women of my memory seem to fall into the Tower of London type category: Mary Queen of Scots, Anne Boleyn, etc. 

What does it take to make progress in prison?  In addition to surviving the experience, of course.

I have tried on a number of occasions to go to jail for justice, but the timing was never convenient for me.

Why was John Wayne calling those he encountered in his Westerns "pilgrim?" 

Corrections:  I omitted one key ingredient in the making of cobb: straw.