The things you can do whenever you want are the things you take for granted. Shopping for example. One stint in prison and I promise you'll relish the lines at Market Basket. Going to commissary was always a treat. Twice a month they'd hand out free toiletries. There was a reason they were free: toilet paper with a built in abrasive; razors that couldn't cut through air; and a bottle labeled "Maximum-Security" - "All In One."
All in one what? I checked the directions and the warning label actually listed leprosy as a potential side effect.
The most interesting part about acquiring this cornucopia of swag is that while standing in a long line behind 500 of the compound's finest inmates it was entirely possible to go an hour or more without hearing a single syllable of English.
The most interesting part about acquiring this cornucopia of swag is that while standing in a long line behind 500 of the compound's finest inmates it was entirely possible to go an hour or more without hearing a single syllable of English.
With my net bag of goodies slung over my shoulder I was on my way back to the unit when an inmate stopped me. He was very pale, like an albino. On his head was perched a white kufi so close to his pigmentation I had trouble telling where it stopped and his shaved dome began. He was thin to the point that a red line drawn down his middle would have made him indistinguishable from a thermometer. Seeing no red line, I recognized him immediately from the Quiet Room. Kneeling with his Muslims brothers he had stood out like a golf ball in a tar pit.
Kufi
"Hey, I'm Lenny," he began, " Jimmy is it?" Nodding, I shook his extended hand and thought I'd taken hold of melting butter. "I'd like to welcome you to the compound and particularly to our building and invite you to join us." "Us? I asked." "Yes, my Muslim brothers and I. In addition to the enormous spiritual enlightenment I've received from them they have taken me into their fold and made me a welcome member of their community." "Why thank you; Lenny is it? But let me ask, were you a member of the Nation of Islam before coming to prison?" "No my awakening has been fairly recent - you see I"m speaking from experience when I say it might be a good thing for you." It took me about ohhh - zero seconds to reach a decision on this one so I gave him my answer on the spot. "Well here's the thing Lenny, I come from a Christian upbringing, a strong Italian American family with deep Roman Catholic roots. My parents are still having a difficult time wrapping their minds around the concept of: 'Our Son the Convict'. Asking them to embrace: 'Our Son the Muslim - Convict,' right now, well that just might be the thing that pushes them over the edge. And to be honest, I'm not willing to take on that responsibility. Can you feel where I'm coming from, Len?"
Despite this, Lenny didn't give up. His conversion attempts went on for several weeks; then stopped suddenly. I Learned later that Molique, one of my eleven cellmates and the Muslim Iman, had a word with him about being so pushy. Mo was a formidable presence; large, dark skinned, confident, soft spoken. He was slow to anger but I would never mistake his humility for weakness. If tested he would shove a shank deep into your kidney and snap your cervical vertebrae without a word. Had he approached me about the religion I would have listened out of respect and a selfish interest in self preservation.
From what I could tell the Bureau of Prisons accommodated every denomination of religion know to man. There were the ones I'd heard of: Jewish, Protestant, Catholics, Muslims, Baptists, Hindu but then they had others I didn't know much about of like Pagan, Rastafarian and Sikhism. The Native Americans had the benefit of their own little fenced in area to have Pow Wows and set up a Smokehouse. This was sacred ground which was immune to being searched; a good place to worship Mother Earth and a great one to hide your cigarettes and cell phones. I recall one afternoon playing volleyball against Michael Douglas' son Cameron. He had already been to the gym and through a flag football game. Now they were calling him to the visiting room. Off he went, shaggy blond hair in every direction, sweat soaked and sandy. Later that evening after chow I was walking by the Smokehouse, my steps in time to the rhythm of the drum and heavy melodic chanting of the Indian inmates, when I looked up and saw that it was Cameron beating the frigging drum! I imagine if outhouses were sacred ground he'd be into that shit too.
From what I could tell the Bureau of Prisons accommodated every denomination of religion know to man. There were the ones I'd heard of: Jewish, Protestant, Catholics, Muslims, Baptists, Hindu but then they had others I didn't know much about of like Pagan, Rastafarian and Sikhism. The Native Americans had the benefit of their own little fenced in area to have Pow Wows and set up a Smokehouse. This was sacred ground which was immune to being searched; a good place to worship Mother Earth and a great one to hide your cigarettes and cell phones. I recall one afternoon playing volleyball against Michael Douglas' son Cameron. He had already been to the gym and through a flag football game. Now they were calling him to the visiting room. Off he went, shaggy blond hair in every direction, sweat soaked and sandy. Later that evening after chow I was walking by the Smokehouse, my steps in time to the rhythm of the drum and heavy melodic chanting of the Indian inmates, when I looked up and saw that it was Cameron beating the frigging drum! I imagine if outhouses were sacred ground he'd be into that shit too.
At one point I thought; perhaps I should join something.... An army of friends would have been comforting especially back at the beginning. But joining a religion with ulterior motives... nope, couldn't do it.
I will never forget as a boy hearing my Aunt Josie say that: Religion, along with Sex and Politics, were "Taboo." And not for the life of me understanding what these things had to do with getting ink engraved under your skin?
I will never forget as a boy hearing my Aunt Josie say that: Religion, along with Sex and Politics, were "Taboo." And not for the life of me understanding what these things had to do with getting ink engraved under your skin?
Then in prison I found much of the inmate population killing time by getting inked up. Some of the country's best artists are institutionalized so I suppose inmates figure why not take advantage of both having the time and being with the talent? Many of those gentlemen have public safety factors on the record making them ineligible for the drug program. If your can't earn time off I you might as well go home with a new sleeve or back piece.
I had didn't have time for religion or taboos; I was fighting to get home to my kids and the fastest way to make that happen was doing RDAP.
From my building I could look across the grass to 5851 which housed the Residential Drug Addiction Program at Fort Dix. Rather than send me there they shipped me to Lewisburg. This really didn't surprise me; the only thing predictable about an out of control bureaucracy is its unpredictability. Nevertheless had you told me when I was packed out in August that the 126.3 mile trip would take until November; even my cynical mind would have said you were out of yours.
I had didn't have time for religion or taboos; I was fighting to get home to my kids and the fastest way to make that happen was doing RDAP.
From my building I could look across the grass to 5851 which housed the Residential Drug Addiction Program at Fort Dix. Rather than send me there they shipped me to Lewisburg. This really didn't surprise me; the only thing predictable about an out of control bureaucracy is its unpredictability. Nevertheless had you told me when I was packed out in August that the 126.3 mile trip would take until November; even my cynical mind would have said you were out of yours.
For security reasons your departure, route and length of travel are left a mystery. When you disappear from the compound the worst fears of your family and friends run unbridled. They worry about where you are, what may have happened and why you've suddenly stopped calling.
I wasn't new to transit. It was just another lesson in humility. It's not like I didn't deserve to be punished. At this point in my sentence anxiety came from knowing that every day I was not in the drug program was another day I couldn't "earn off." That it was "dead time" away from my kids that I would not have had to serve if they got me to the program sooner.
Eventually I got to MDC Brooklyn where they put me on twenty-three hour lock down; twenty four if I didn't take rec, which I didn't because every day I got up thinking I'd be leaving for Pennsylvania. August turned to September then October crept towards November. It was not being there, locked in a space the size of your bathroom, that was torture - believe it or not I'd conditioned myself for that - it was not knowing what the fuck was going on that was killing me. I quickly learned if you don't fight for information no one is going to give it to you. They are happy to be left alone, and let you rot. Anytime a white shirt tried to sneak past the little plexiglass window of my cell I'd jump up an start banging to flag them down. And the ones I could get to stop well, they spun me like a top: "Oh, Tamagini they must be waiting for bunk space in Lewisburg;" "There's no transit this week because of the holiday;" "Tamagini, your still here? Well you'll be leaving soon there's no room in the drug program right now, when something opens up you'll be on the next bus for certain." It didn't take much of that before I was dizzy.
My one, fifteen minute phone call a month didn't help either. I'd call only to find they had my family twisted with the same excuses they'd given me. The truth is the prison staff didn't know when I was leaving and could care less to find out. You go when the stars align, and the Marshals arrive, and some guard is sent to wake you at 5:00 A.M. to pack you out. And until then you wait.
Finally one night I over heard a guard speaking with the guy in the next cell: "Yeah, that's right there is a bus coming through tomorrow for Pennsylvania." He said. And I knew this was finally it.
Months had gone by without a solid night sleep. Everything in that tin can shook and echoed. When other inmates kicked screamed and shouted from cell to cell all night even the wads of toilet paper crammed in my ear canals couldn't ward off the vibrations.
Delirious from deprivation I started asking myself: What if this isn't it? How much longer can it be? How many classes will I miss? If they don't come for me before Thanksgiving then surely they're not coming until after the New Year.... What if they forgot about me altogether?"
Stop it! You heard the cop; they're coming tomorrow.... Don't be such a fucking pussy.... But what if they don't come?
Lying there inhabited by more personalities than Sybil I was tempted to pray. But no need for concern, I realized I was tired; recognized that it was weakness talking; and resisted.
You see I had been brought up on faith and the power of prayer but it had been a long time since I'd thought about the concept let alone believed. Doesn't it go without saying that if I had anything to pray for it would be that my children had their mother? You can bet your ass I prayed that day; while they hit Michelle with defibrillator paddles as she lay on the floor of our foyer surrounded by responding emergency personnel and wayward neighbors - and in the hours that they worked on her at Lowell General Hospital. What sense would make to pray for anything now after what I wanted most was taken away?
I stopped praying on the street; there God looked up to me I was so high. After being at Fort Dix a while the only time I saw inmate Shekstein stop praying was to eat and check the stock ticker in the TV room. Do you think if he spent that much time bobbing and chanting and whipping himself on the street that he would have had time to get a parking ticked let alone rape innocent children? Remember Molique? He began proclaiming the word of Allah only after receiving a thirty-year sentence. Before that his concentration was on spreading viles of crack around his neighborhood. In the end I'd rather do a swan dive into razor wire than join Lenny's crusade for personal protection. And if there is such thing as God I refused to insult Her by doing anything differently now, than when I was free, just because I wasn't.
So I went to bed wearing my best orange jumpsuit and few personal items packed in a clean pillow case left next to the door. The night wore on and try as I did to sleep my mind churned like a nuclear turbine. After several hours of that agony I swung out of my bunk to the floor on my knees and with fingers woven and pressed to my forehead I asked: Please God, not for me - for Anthony and Kyera who need at least one parent.. for my mother who just lost her lung to cancer... for my sisters and my father, for everyone I let down... please put me on that bus.... When I finished I climbed back under my sheet and was out cold in seconds.
The sound of keys startled me conscious. The time on my Casio glowed 4:27 A.M. When my eyes adjusted boot steps were already at the door. Keys rattled and jangled and entered the lock turning and freeing my neighbor into transit.
Closing my eyes was no use. Sleep was impossible now. To avoid rage I entered a void and felt nothing. Two guards came back at 6:00 A.M. and I sprung up with all the hope in the world. "Tamagini you gonna Shower?"
Backing up to the slot I bent and extended my wrists out to be cuffed. Once secure they opened and walk me firmly by both shoulders to one of two showers at the end of the tier. They were simply cages with a shower head and drain in the floor. The shower cell on the left was already occupied. Unlocking the other they swung open the bars and put me in to reverse the process of uncuffing.
Ducking in and out of the narrow ice cold stream I'd suppressed my anger enough. I began cursing my counselor and Fort Dix for sending me here; MDC Brooklyn for keeping and not letting me go; the Marshals who brought me, the ones who haven't picked me up, and Lewisburg for whatever was going on over there without me!
I hadn't nearly blown off enough steam when a guard called out to inform me: "Yo there's no fresh gear today you'll have to put your other stuff back on." "I can't fucking believe this!" "Believe it. I'll be back for you in five. And you too Cruz."
Until then I'd paid little mind to the inmate singing in the next shower. Now I needed someone to vent with. "Yo, man, can you fucking believe this, no clean cloths! I've been wearing this shit since last Wednesday." " I know Pappi," he yelled back in a heavy Spanish accent. "Every few months they run out for a week or so." Months? "Why Bro how long have you been here?" "Goin on six months, but I'm in transit just passin through." "Me too, I'm headed to the Drug Program at Lewisburg, is that where your going?" "Ha! - no I'm goin back to Big Sandy in Kentucky. I was just here on my last appeal... but you Mi Amigo, your short, good for you - almost home." "I know but it just sucks that all this time until I get into RDAP is dead, wasted time!" Appeal... "Why bro, how much time they give you?" "Oh, I'm full of life, Judge give me two life sentences plus sixty-years - but I'm so blessed they didn't hit me with that needle the prosecutor was pushin for...." I'd run out of complaints. ".... yes thankful every second of everyday. I get to call my kids, get letters and pictures and watchem grow. You know Pappi God does not promise us a life without difficulty, only that in difficult times he will always be with us."
By this time I'd dried and tied my jumper and towel around my waist. The guards returned and removed Cruz first. Turning to me as they backed him out he said: "Good luck Pappi. God bless you and your family." Then by the shoulders they walked him down the tier, back to his cell, out of my sight.
BIG SANDY
My one, fifteen minute phone call a month didn't help either. I'd call only to find they had my family twisted with the same excuses they'd given me. The truth is the prison staff didn't know when I was leaving and could care less to find out. You go when the stars align, and the Marshals arrive, and some guard is sent to wake you at 5:00 A.M. to pack you out. And until then you wait.
Finally one night I over heard a guard speaking with the guy in the next cell: "Yeah, that's right there is a bus coming through tomorrow for Pennsylvania." He said. And I knew this was finally it.
Months had gone by without a solid night sleep. Everything in that tin can shook and echoed. When other inmates kicked screamed and shouted from cell to cell all night even the wads of toilet paper crammed in my ear canals couldn't ward off the vibrations.
Delirious from deprivation I started asking myself: What if this isn't it? How much longer can it be? How many classes will I miss? If they don't come for me before Thanksgiving then surely they're not coming until after the New Year.... What if they forgot about me altogether?"
Stop it! You heard the cop; they're coming tomorrow.... Don't be such a fucking pussy.... But what if they don't come?
Lying there inhabited by more personalities than Sybil I was tempted to pray. But no need for concern, I realized I was tired; recognized that it was weakness talking; and resisted.
You see I had been brought up on faith and the power of prayer but it had been a long time since I'd thought about the concept let alone believed. Doesn't it go without saying that if I had anything to pray for it would be that my children had their mother? You can bet your ass I prayed that day; while they hit Michelle with defibrillator paddles as she lay on the floor of our foyer surrounded by responding emergency personnel and wayward neighbors - and in the hours that they worked on her at Lowell General Hospital. What sense would make to pray for anything now after what I wanted most was taken away?
I stopped praying on the street; there God looked up to me I was so high. After being at Fort Dix a while the only time I saw inmate Shekstein stop praying was to eat and check the stock ticker in the TV room. Do you think if he spent that much time bobbing and chanting and whipping himself on the street that he would have had time to get a parking ticked let alone rape innocent children? Remember Molique? He began proclaiming the word of Allah only after receiving a thirty-year sentence. Before that his concentration was on spreading viles of crack around his neighborhood. In the end I'd rather do a swan dive into razor wire than join Lenny's crusade for personal protection. And if there is such thing as God I refused to insult Her by doing anything differently now, than when I was free, just because I wasn't.
So I went to bed wearing my best orange jumpsuit and few personal items packed in a clean pillow case left next to the door. The night wore on and try as I did to sleep my mind churned like a nuclear turbine. After several hours of that agony I swung out of my bunk to the floor on my knees and with fingers woven and pressed to my forehead I asked: Please God, not for me - for Anthony and Kyera who need at least one parent.. for my mother who just lost her lung to cancer... for my sisters and my father, for everyone I let down... please put me on that bus.... When I finished I climbed back under my sheet and was out cold in seconds.
The sound of keys startled me conscious. The time on my Casio glowed 4:27 A.M. When my eyes adjusted boot steps were already at the door. Keys rattled and jangled and entered the lock turning and freeing my neighbor into transit.
Closing my eyes was no use. Sleep was impossible now. To avoid rage I entered a void and felt nothing. Two guards came back at 6:00 A.M. and I sprung up with all the hope in the world. "Tamagini you gonna Shower?"
Backing up to the slot I bent and extended my wrists out to be cuffed. Once secure they opened and walk me firmly by both shoulders to one of two showers at the end of the tier. They were simply cages with a shower head and drain in the floor. The shower cell on the left was already occupied. Unlocking the other they swung open the bars and put me in to reverse the process of uncuffing.
Ducking in and out of the narrow ice cold stream I'd suppressed my anger enough. I began cursing my counselor and Fort Dix for sending me here; MDC Brooklyn for keeping and not letting me go; the Marshals who brought me, the ones who haven't picked me up, and Lewisburg for whatever was going on over there without me!
I hadn't nearly blown off enough steam when a guard called out to inform me: "Yo there's no fresh gear today you'll have to put your other stuff back on." "I can't fucking believe this!" "Believe it. I'll be back for you in five. And you too Cruz."
Until then I'd paid little mind to the inmate singing in the next shower. Now I needed someone to vent with. "Yo, man, can you fucking believe this, no clean cloths! I've been wearing this shit since last Wednesday." " I know Pappi," he yelled back in a heavy Spanish accent. "Every few months they run out for a week or so." Months? "Why Bro how long have you been here?" "Goin on six months, but I'm in transit just passin through." "Me too, I'm headed to the Drug Program at Lewisburg, is that where your going?" "Ha! - no I'm goin back to Big Sandy in Kentucky. I was just here on my last appeal... but you Mi Amigo, your short, good for you - almost home." "I know but it just sucks that all this time until I get into RDAP is dead, wasted time!" Appeal... "Why bro, how much time they give you?" "Oh, I'm full of life, Judge give me two life sentences plus sixty-years - but I'm so blessed they didn't hit me with that needle the prosecutor was pushin for...." I'd run out of complaints. ".... yes thankful every second of everyday. I get to call my kids, get letters and pictures and watchem grow. You know Pappi God does not promise us a life without difficulty, only that in difficult times he will always be with us."
By this time I'd dried and tied my jumper and towel around my waist. The guards returned and removed Cruz first. Turning to me as they backed him out he said: "Good luck Pappi. God bless you and your family." Then by the shoulders they walked him down the tier, back to his cell, out of my sight.
No comments:
Post a Comment