The posts are now in a chronoligical order. I did forget to post one about a typical day part II. I'll squeeze that in at some point, when I am able to type it up. Scott
The Dorm
After I got some stuff from the tithe box, I made my way to the dorm. The stuff I got is relevant is it pertains to some other tips for surviving prison. The single most important possession a prisoner needs is a shower shoes. The unwritten rule adhered to by all inmates is to never take a shower without them. I will not go into detail as to why, but trust me when I say they are essential. I also got a soap dish, deodorant, and a toothbrush holder. I was now supposedly prepared to enter my living arrangement. The dorm is like a college dorm. The main difference is that you do not live in a closed off room. You have a cubicle much like you would have in an office building. Our dorm has about 68 cubicles. Some of these cubicles have three inmates, while others have two. The cubicles are the same size regardless of the number of inmates they hold. New guys are assigned to cubicles with three men that are generally located across from the bathroom or by the tv room. These cubicles are also toward the front of the dorm, near the entrance. The front of the dorm is where the tv rooms, phones, laundry, guard desk, and microwave are located. The point is that these cubicles are close to the noisier parts of the dorm, and the new guys suffer for being new.
As a new person, you are generally ignored. I didn’t understand this at first, but I do now that I have been around. So many people come and go that you can’t keep track of them all. Some guys are here for 30 days, and by the time you figure out their name, they are gone. Some of the longer-term guys won’t talk to new guys unless they have a least a 1 year sentence. It makes sense. It’s a lot of emotional energy to meet the new guys and find that they are going to leave in two weeks. One guy was sentenced to 13 days. This was quite humorous to everyone. He was almost nonexistent. He wouldn’t be assigned to a job, would not have a meeting with a counselor or case manager, and wouldn’t even get a medical exam in that time. My guess is that if he simply walked away no one would have known he was gone.
I arrived on a Friday evening, which is movie night. As I wandered around the dorm, I noticed guys putting their chairs into a tv room. I was about to go inside when a guy stopped me and said, “you can’t go in there. It’s assigned seating. Someone has to loan you their seat.” That was my first introduction to the tv room. I had read before coming to prison that one should never borrow something from another inmate. A few guys did offer to lend me their seats that night. I told them no, following this rule, thinking that if I did take them up on their chairs, I would see them a week later asking me to buy something for them. It turns out that this is sage advice. Of course, there are exceptions.
You learn fairly quickly which guys you can trust and which ones you cannot. Usually your bunkies will lend you some token items to get you through. I borrowed a couple of stamps and a pen from my first bunkies. Of course, if you borrow something, pay it back and give a little extra. I think this is a good rule for life in general, but in prison, it is my unalterable law. This establishes a positive reputation of being a borrower who can be trusted. After all, trust in prison is a valuable commodity. Even if you think you will never need to ask for anything from anyone, you will find a time that you need something and have to borrow it. Borrowing isn’t bad, if you follow the simple rules of knowing from whom you are borrowing and paying back promptly and with a little interest. In fact, that kind of borrowing, like a credit score, actually makes life a little easier and establishes trust.
Of course, if people are borrowing then others are lending. You can get burned pretty easily by lending out things. The rule is don’t lend to people you don’t trust. Of course there are situations where people make requests and you don’t know them very well, but you want to help or make a good impression to establish a trust. I lost a few sodas and candy bars giving them to people and never getting a thing in return. In spite of what you may think, those are somewhat valuable commodities here. But, for about $2.00 (about two days wages) I learned a valuable lesson about who I can trust with bigger things, like my life. That’s a pretty cheap investment even by prison standards. The guys who borrow and don’t repay end up without friends quickly.
There are situations where I give willingly and expecting nothing in return. Usually these situations are to other Christians who need something or an outreach to a struggling new person with whom want to establish some rapport. In those cases, it’s best to just be blunt and say, “Hey, this is a gift. You don’t need to repay me anything. I just want to help out.” So many guys are out to scam you that you have to say this or they will think like I did, that this person will come back and want something later.These are some of the basic rules about interacting with other inmates. I would learn more as I became more immersed in the culture.
Monday, January 14, 2008
First Day (#30)
Jeff decided to take his readers through the details of his entry into prison. He wants to tell more of the story of his imprisonment. So, here is the first installment.
First Day
When I first walked into the prison here at Taft, the rules started immediately. The first rule that I recall I learned from an odd situation. After replacing the clothes was wearing with an oversized t-shirt, boxers, and a humiliating orange jumpsuit, I was put into a sound proof room with benches and a toilet. I was with two other guys. Occasionally we talked, but we mostly just sat there in the silent shock that comes with realizing that we were in beginning a new life in prison. As the three of us sat there, exchanging silent stares or nervous banter, we noticed a guard frantically waving their arms at us and angrily yelling something through the soundproof windows. I looked at them in confusion, because I obviously could not hear them. Then the gesticulating started with increasing levels of crimson on their faces. After playing this silly game of charades, it occurred to me that they wanted us to stand up. I told the other two prisoners that this song and dance the guard was doing meant that we needed to stand up. So, we stood up and the guard was relieved. I later learned that at that time of the day, all the prisoners are required to do a standing count. I have no idea why standing is the preferred position for the inmates, but nevertheless, the inmates must stand up, even those inmates who have just arrived and attempting to communicate from a sound-proof box. I’m generally offended when movies and televisions shows portray our crime fighting and governmental intelligence as simpletons, but the guards should have known that as new arrivals, we were not aware of the standing count and that even if we were, we did not know what time it was and could not hear the standing count call from the guards or loudspeaker. This would not be my only confounding brush with the intelligentsia that makes up the Bureau of Prisons (BOP).
Shortly thereafter, I was transferred to the camp. Upon entering the camp, I gave back the orange jumpsuit and was given a tan pair of pants. Why give me the orange jumpsuit in the first place? I’m not sure about this procedure either, but I don’t make the rules. One thing I learned about the rule makers and enforcers is that one is best served by neither being known nor knowing the guards. Following this rule has served me well so far.
One other thing that the BOP gives new inmates is a handbook. The handbook is full of rules that the inmate must follow, and procedures for completing various tasks (such as filing complaints, requesting new jobs, etc). I learned quickly that there are two sets of rules, those in the handbook and those from the prisoners. I read the handbook cover to cover my first weekend (I arrived on a Friday afternoon). I don’t remember most of it. As you can imagine, most of the staff do not know the rules in the handbook either. I did not realize this until a few months into my time here.
My experience with the BOP and prison, however, started before I even arrived. I was what the BOP calls a self-surrender. When the judge handed down my sentence, my attorney had already requested a self-surrender. If one is not granted this, the convicted is handcuffed, perhaps given a chance to say goodbye’s to family and taken to a local jail for transportation. Self surrender allows for the convict to leave the courtroom, go home, and take care of personal matters before surrendering to the BOP. The BOP gave me two months. Some are given more time, some less. My dad’s wife was ill, and his self surrender time will end up being around 9 months. Other inmates in the minimum security camp are transferred there from higher prisons, or from jails after their conviction. As a self surrender, I have a status in the prison. My status was that of a target. I knew little to nothing of prison hierarchy and society. I was ripe to be swindled.
Within two minutes of my entry to camp, I was confronted by a situation that was a breach of the rules. A guy walking out of the chow hall asked me if I was new (my new pair of blue canvas shoes, and the large black L, the size of my shirt, boldly announced to all that I was new). There was no point in answering him, because the answer was obvious. But, I did. He then asked if I had eaten. I ate a large lunch because I figured I may not get to eat dinner on my first night. I told this inmate that I had not eaten dinner. He proceeded to offer me an orange. The rule is that you are not to accept anything of value from another inmate. Before I entered I read that you should not accept anything from other inmates because then you will be indebted to them. The way it works is that you are offered something, which on the outside would seem like a kind gesture. In prison, however, if you accept, you owe that inmate something. A few days later, the inmate will ask for something from you, and you are expected to produce it. I have found that inmates are passive aggressive. They never tell you what they really want or what the terms of any transaction are.
The rule about not accepting anything from another inmate is written in the handbook. It must be a good rule because the handbook contains very few rules that apply to the informal inmate code as well. I did discover that there are many ways around this rule, and that in many cases, trading with other inmates is good. Despite the rule, inmates break it constantly, as if it were not a rule at all. After I declined the orange, the same inmate took me to the chapel. It turns out that the Christians at the prison have a tithe box. The Christian inmates buy supplies to give to the new inmates. It’s a great ministry. I discovered that the guy who offered me the orange was a Christian. This posed some interesting dilemmas in my mind that I would later figure out as I learned more the rules of prison.
First Day
When I first walked into the prison here at Taft, the rules started immediately. The first rule that I recall I learned from an odd situation. After replacing the clothes was wearing with an oversized t-shirt, boxers, and a humiliating orange jumpsuit, I was put into a sound proof room with benches and a toilet. I was with two other guys. Occasionally we talked, but we mostly just sat there in the silent shock that comes with realizing that we were in beginning a new life in prison. As the three of us sat there, exchanging silent stares or nervous banter, we noticed a guard frantically waving their arms at us and angrily yelling something through the soundproof windows. I looked at them in confusion, because I obviously could not hear them. Then the gesticulating started with increasing levels of crimson on their faces. After playing this silly game of charades, it occurred to me that they wanted us to stand up. I told the other two prisoners that this song and dance the guard was doing meant that we needed to stand up. So, we stood up and the guard was relieved. I later learned that at that time of the day, all the prisoners are required to do a standing count. I have no idea why standing is the preferred position for the inmates, but nevertheless, the inmates must stand up, even those inmates who have just arrived and attempting to communicate from a sound-proof box. I’m generally offended when movies and televisions shows portray our crime fighting and governmental intelligence as simpletons, but the guards should have known that as new arrivals, we were not aware of the standing count and that even if we were, we did not know what time it was and could not hear the standing count call from the guards or loudspeaker. This would not be my only confounding brush with the intelligentsia that makes up the Bureau of Prisons (BOP).
Shortly thereafter, I was transferred to the camp. Upon entering the camp, I gave back the orange jumpsuit and was given a tan pair of pants. Why give me the orange jumpsuit in the first place? I’m not sure about this procedure either, but I don’t make the rules. One thing I learned about the rule makers and enforcers is that one is best served by neither being known nor knowing the guards. Following this rule has served me well so far.
One other thing that the BOP gives new inmates is a handbook. The handbook is full of rules that the inmate must follow, and procedures for completing various tasks (such as filing complaints, requesting new jobs, etc). I learned quickly that there are two sets of rules, those in the handbook and those from the prisoners. I read the handbook cover to cover my first weekend (I arrived on a Friday afternoon). I don’t remember most of it. As you can imagine, most of the staff do not know the rules in the handbook either. I did not realize this until a few months into my time here.
My experience with the BOP and prison, however, started before I even arrived. I was what the BOP calls a self-surrender. When the judge handed down my sentence, my attorney had already requested a self-surrender. If one is not granted this, the convicted is handcuffed, perhaps given a chance to say goodbye’s to family and taken to a local jail for transportation. Self surrender allows for the convict to leave the courtroom, go home, and take care of personal matters before surrendering to the BOP. The BOP gave me two months. Some are given more time, some less. My dad’s wife was ill, and his self surrender time will end up being around 9 months. Other inmates in the minimum security camp are transferred there from higher prisons, or from jails after their conviction. As a self surrender, I have a status in the prison. My status was that of a target. I knew little to nothing of prison hierarchy and society. I was ripe to be swindled.
Within two minutes of my entry to camp, I was confronted by a situation that was a breach of the rules. A guy walking out of the chow hall asked me if I was new (my new pair of blue canvas shoes, and the large black L, the size of my shirt, boldly announced to all that I was new). There was no point in answering him, because the answer was obvious. But, I did. He then asked if I had eaten. I ate a large lunch because I figured I may not get to eat dinner on my first night. I told this inmate that I had not eaten dinner. He proceeded to offer me an orange. The rule is that you are not to accept anything of value from another inmate. Before I entered I read that you should not accept anything from other inmates because then you will be indebted to them. The way it works is that you are offered something, which on the outside would seem like a kind gesture. In prison, however, if you accept, you owe that inmate something. A few days later, the inmate will ask for something from you, and you are expected to produce it. I have found that inmates are passive aggressive. They never tell you what they really want or what the terms of any transaction are.
The rule about not accepting anything from another inmate is written in the handbook. It must be a good rule because the handbook contains very few rules that apply to the informal inmate code as well. I did discover that there are many ways around this rule, and that in many cases, trading with other inmates is good. Despite the rule, inmates break it constantly, as if it were not a rule at all. After I declined the orange, the same inmate took me to the chapel. It turns out that the Christians at the prison have a tithe box. The Christian inmates buy supplies to give to the new inmates. It’s a great ministry. I discovered that the guy who offered me the orange was a Christian. This posed some interesting dilemmas in my mind that I would later figure out as I learned more the rules of prison.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Mourning (#30)
This morning my bunkie found out that his mom died of cancer. There was no pretense of concern by this institution. He was paged over the loudspeaker to a secretary’s office. The secretary told him his mom had died earlier that morning. I wasn’t around when he was notified, but I would imagine the information was presented in a prison sort of way, much like the way my step-mother’s passing was. . . matter of factly, as if I had no emotions. It is a secretary’s job to tell my bunkie of the news, much like the how it is the guard’s job to yell out our names during mail call or a food service worker slopping a hamburger and rice casserole onto our tray with an ice cream scoop. It’s a job, and they do it and it’s done. There are no follow-up questions indicating concern or empathy. You are told, then excused.
Earlier this week, my friend learned that both his dad and his grandmother had heart attacks. While his dad appears to be fine, he is concerned that his grandmother will not make it. Fortunately my friend discovered this by talking to his family (as I had about my step mom) and not through the prison information network.
When I learned that my step mom’s cancer had returned not too long ago, and that the doctor’s did no think she would live much longer, I knew that I probably would not see my step mom again. Now, my bunkie is facing the same emotions. Like my friend wondering if he will see his grandmother again, all of us have the same feeling of helplessness. I wrote earlier about the worry list. This is similar, but different. We know we could not do anything even it on the outside, but the helplessness that comes with the lack of closure is different. We can’t do anything to provide comfort for those hurting. We can’t say goodbye, or thanks for everything. Our being here probably adds to the pain our loved ones felt, and that only adds to some sort of guilt that our transgression may have caused this. Still, there is nothing we can do, and that is the hardest part about prison.
I have two grandmothers that are still alive. Since my indictment over three years ago I have not talked to either of them. It occurred to me this week (the holidays also make one think a lot about family) that I may not see either of them again. However, for some reason or other, I have withheld my love from them. Maybe it’s pride that constrains me, maybe fear. I don’t know yet, but I do know that in prison I don’t have the opportunity to visit them, hug them, or have dinner with them. I may have missed my opportunity to show Christ’s love to my own family.
I could go on by saying we can pray and trust God. In fact, that is true, but it doesn’t always console people here, or on the outside to say that. No, what I want to say is take advantage of the opportunities you do have to console or help someone who is hurting. There is no lack of hurting people looking for someone to unconditionally love them. My guess is that there is someone who is 100 yards away from you that is hurting; maybe even someone in your own family. Now that the holidays are here, take the time to connect with them and tell them that you are thinking about them or that you love them. Like me, you may not get another chance.
Jeff
Earlier this week, my friend learned that both his dad and his grandmother had heart attacks. While his dad appears to be fine, he is concerned that his grandmother will not make it. Fortunately my friend discovered this by talking to his family (as I had about my step mom) and not through the prison information network.
When I learned that my step mom’s cancer had returned not too long ago, and that the doctor’s did no think she would live much longer, I knew that I probably would not see my step mom again. Now, my bunkie is facing the same emotions. Like my friend wondering if he will see his grandmother again, all of us have the same feeling of helplessness. I wrote earlier about the worry list. This is similar, but different. We know we could not do anything even it on the outside, but the helplessness that comes with the lack of closure is different. We can’t do anything to provide comfort for those hurting. We can’t say goodbye, or thanks for everything. Our being here probably adds to the pain our loved ones felt, and that only adds to some sort of guilt that our transgression may have caused this. Still, there is nothing we can do, and that is the hardest part about prison.
I have two grandmothers that are still alive. Since my indictment over three years ago I have not talked to either of them. It occurred to me this week (the holidays also make one think a lot about family) that I may not see either of them again. However, for some reason or other, I have withheld my love from them. Maybe it’s pride that constrains me, maybe fear. I don’t know yet, but I do know that in prison I don’t have the opportunity to visit them, hug them, or have dinner with them. I may have missed my opportunity to show Christ’s love to my own family.
I could go on by saying we can pray and trust God. In fact, that is true, but it doesn’t always console people here, or on the outside to say that. No, what I want to say is take advantage of the opportunities you do have to console or help someone who is hurting. There is no lack of hurting people looking for someone to unconditionally love them. My guess is that there is someone who is 100 yards away from you that is hurting; maybe even someone in your own family. Now that the holidays are here, take the time to connect with them and tell them that you are thinking about them or that you love them. Like me, you may not get another chance.
Jeff
Worry List (#29)
As I’ve said in other blogs, one of the most frustrating aspects of prison is the sense of helplessness you feel when things happen to your family and you can’t do anything. I struggle with anxiety about the future. How will I provide for my family, how is my oldest son, Connor, going to adjust to a new school, it my wife getting enough rest as a single mom with two young kids. The list goes on and on. I believe the verse Matt. 6:34 is where Jesus talks about not worrying about tomorrow because tomorrow will worry about itself. That’s a tricky one for me to apply, because what does that mean for today, that I have to take care of the trouble or that each day brings its own troubles, so best not to worry about any of it, etc.
I understand that the main point is to pursue and seek the things of God, and to not get caught up in the worries of the world. But, I still worry about my family, my kids, my wife, and so on. How do I stop? This is where I struggle. I still worry about my son’s change in schools, even though it is still 8 months away. These things pop into my head whether I seemingly want them to or not. I can’t stop thinking about the future. I can’t simply say, “God, find me a job that will take care of the huge debt I have” and then expect God to do that. I believe God will provide what I need, but I also need to be a good steward of my time. How do we reconcile this dilemma of not worrying, trusting and not wasting time. I think my friend, Doug Gamble, another prisoner here, had a great idea about this.
Doug has a lot going on at his home. He lives in Oregon so he’s physically quite distant from his family. He doesn’t have a whole lot of money to call his wife or other people. He’s a lot like everyone here. He can’t help his loved one when things go wrong. He told me yesterday after two tough weeks that he had been worried about thing happening at home and frustrated that he couldn’t help. Then he shared an idea with me. Each day he was going to make a list or add to an existing list of all the things going on at home. After praying about each one, he would create a new list every day of the things that he could do from Taft to help. His first realization was the most interesting. There were many things on his list that he could not control or with which he could provide help because he is in Taft. Most of it would not be relevant until he got out of prison anyway. He was surprise to see how many things he worried about that he couldn’t do anything about anyway. I think this is where Doug’s faith plays a huge roll. He tells me to let God worry about that stuff, and he just prays and tells God that he can’t worry about and to let God figure it out.
As he would go through his list of worries, he would also create a list of things he could do that day to help any of the situations. For example, if he was worried about his wife not knowing how to handle a financial matter, he would write on his list, “call wife and explain how to take care of financial matter.” If he didn’t have enough money to make a phone call, then that wouldn’t be something he could do that day. He might write instead, “write a letter to wife about financial issue.” In this way he was a good steward of his worries and time. He was doing what he could today about the issues, and not worrying about thing over which he could not control. His frustration and anxiety decreased. Rather than wandering around the track worrying all day, he was busy doing what he could from his list, praying over the other stuff, and moving on with his life.
After a while, Doug noticed that his list of things he was worrying about was getting shorter, as he pared down what he couldn’t control, and took care of what he could, he realized that two things were happening. He was trusting God more and praying rather than worrying. He figured that perhaps one day he would simply be in prayer over anything that seemed to be causing him to worry rather than worrying about it long enough to even make a list. I guess that is the goal. To offer things to God before they fester into worry. I think Doug is on his way, and I like the model for my own life.
Jeff
I understand that the main point is to pursue and seek the things of God, and to not get caught up in the worries of the world. But, I still worry about my family, my kids, my wife, and so on. How do I stop? This is where I struggle. I still worry about my son’s change in schools, even though it is still 8 months away. These things pop into my head whether I seemingly want them to or not. I can’t stop thinking about the future. I can’t simply say, “God, find me a job that will take care of the huge debt I have” and then expect God to do that. I believe God will provide what I need, but I also need to be a good steward of my time. How do we reconcile this dilemma of not worrying, trusting and not wasting time. I think my friend, Doug Gamble, another prisoner here, had a great idea about this.
Doug has a lot going on at his home. He lives in Oregon so he’s physically quite distant from his family. He doesn’t have a whole lot of money to call his wife or other people. He’s a lot like everyone here. He can’t help his loved one when things go wrong. He told me yesterday after two tough weeks that he had been worried about thing happening at home and frustrated that he couldn’t help. Then he shared an idea with me. Each day he was going to make a list or add to an existing list of all the things going on at home. After praying about each one, he would create a new list every day of the things that he could do from Taft to help. His first realization was the most interesting. There were many things on his list that he could not control or with which he could provide help because he is in Taft. Most of it would not be relevant until he got out of prison anyway. He was surprise to see how many things he worried about that he couldn’t do anything about anyway. I think this is where Doug’s faith plays a huge roll. He tells me to let God worry about that stuff, and he just prays and tells God that he can’t worry about and to let God figure it out.
As he would go through his list of worries, he would also create a list of things he could do that day to help any of the situations. For example, if he was worried about his wife not knowing how to handle a financial matter, he would write on his list, “call wife and explain how to take care of financial matter.” If he didn’t have enough money to make a phone call, then that wouldn’t be something he could do that day. He might write instead, “write a letter to wife about financial issue.” In this way he was a good steward of his worries and time. He was doing what he could today about the issues, and not worrying about thing over which he could not control. His frustration and anxiety decreased. Rather than wandering around the track worrying all day, he was busy doing what he could from his list, praying over the other stuff, and moving on with his life.
After a while, Doug noticed that his list of things he was worrying about was getting shorter, as he pared down what he couldn’t control, and took care of what he could, he realized that two things were happening. He was trusting God more and praying rather than worrying. He figured that perhaps one day he would simply be in prayer over anything that seemed to be causing him to worry rather than worrying about it long enough to even make a list. I guess that is the goal. To offer things to God before they fester into worry. I think Doug is on his way, and I like the model for my own life.
Jeff
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)