April 13, 2009 marks my second year at Taft Federal Prison Camp. Two years is a long time to spend anywhere. The journey, or whatever you want to call this, is almost over. I have three and a half months before I leave the camp and go to the halfway house.
A lot has happened since my last quarterly update in mid-January. It was only about a week after my last update when several friends of mine were baptized. For those of you who are unfamiliar with what baptism is, I’ll briefly explain. Getting baptized is an outward or public statement that you are a follower of Jesus Christ. The act of being submersed in water and coming out symbolizes Jesus’ death and resurrection. To many Christians, it’s an important event and one that we celebrate. Because the Protestant church here encompasses many denominations, these men were not being baptized into a church or to a specific denomination. They just wanted to show publicly that they had received Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.
The event was important to me because a couple of guys with whom I had spent considerable time, were baptized. It was encouraging to me to see that my relationships with these men were worthwhile. It was bittersweet as well because one guy in particular with whom I was a good friend has left Taft Camp to go to the drug program. I miss the friendship and laughs that we shared, but I know the drug program will help him get more time off his sentence and allow him to resume his life [sooner].
It turns out that this past three months could be summarized by “friends leaving”. In late March, my bunkee Munson, left. I had lived with Munson for fourteen months, about half of my total time here. Munson made me laugh and he was a great bunkee. I’m a big believer in having a bunkee you get along with. It makes the time much easier to do. Why add stress to an already stressful situation? Sometimes you can’t help whom you live with, but with patience you usually can reduce a bad situation from occurring.
My Dad is a good example. He lived in a two-man cube for fourteen months before he moved. He now lives with me. He might have been able to move sooner, but he probably would have gotten an unknown bunkee, a middle two-man cube and a cube not much quieter than what he had. I’m not going to say my cube location is any quieter than his other options, but it’s a window cube, which, in my opinion, is highly preferable.
I’ve only lived with my Dad a few weeks now, but I would rather have Dad than most other options. My Dad is very different from Munson. Munson would talk, make jokes, and converse on a variety of topics. My Dad mostly reads and does crossword puzzles. My Dad can converse on a wide variety of topics; he just usually doesn’t. Nonetheless, I’m glad I have some sense of familiarity. I’m learning some things about my Dad that I didn’t know. For one, I had no idea he did crossword puzzles or Soduko. I had no idea he like corn chips so much, either. He is very routine, which explains a lot about where I got my anal retentive personality. It’s from my Dad!
Probably my closest friend during my time here left on Easter Sunday. Doug had been here twenty-two months. Those twenty-two months were much better for me having someone to talk to and laugh with. Doug was an answer to my prayers early on that I could find a close friend.
Other than friends leaving, I’ve managed to work my way up to $50 a month in pay. I’m probably in the top ten percent of income earners amongst the inmates. It’s probably the only time in my life I’ll be in the top ten percent of income earners anywhere. My job as the fire/safety clerk has improved. I’ve managed to inform the staff of my job duties and demonstrate that I actually do my job. Life is much easier. I enjoy my office and the privacy. You don’t get much time to be alone, to write or think without interruption, so my office is an oasis. As I’ve written earlier, I’m making the job work for me.
Unfortunately I’m not playing soccer anymore. I found that I was getting injured frequently. I’ve been battling some sort of abdominal strain for a while. I’ve been walking a lot though and have recently started jogging again. So far I feel o.k.
That’s pretty much it for now.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Has Prison Changed Me?
One of my close friends is leaving Taft in a couple of weeks. As we walked the track one evening, he made a comment that intrigued me. He said, “I have to look at myself and see if this experience in prison has made me more aggressive.” I had to think about that for a couple of weeks and look at my behavior as well.
I know that being arrested, shackled, and escorted before a judge in 2004 changed me. I had to reconsider who I was based on what I valued. Was I valuing my family, my spiritual beliefs, my possessions or something else? I came to the conclusion that much of my life was hypocrisy. What I said I valued I did really put as a high priority in my decisions. I tried for the three years that I was on pre-trial to implement a new set of values based on new priorities. I came to prison thinking that I had done an ok job of reprioritizing my life.
The challenge was being in prison. If there is anyone out there who thinks that prison is designed to rehabilitate, let me assure you that it is not. Rehabilitation is a change made by the individual. The system, in my opinion, works against you. Even though I came in here with the intent of living my life with different guiding principles, I was bombarded with the anger, bitter, aggressive and selfish culture that exists in every level of prison. I’m at the lowest level of security of incarceration and it is prevalent even here.
I’ve already written about how I found a good couple of friends. I am a Christian and I wanted to find other guys who shared that priority. I was blessed to be able to do so. Even so, the challenge of not allowing the culture of this place to change me confronted me daily and still does. You come to realize that the staff, for the most part, does not care. This creates an overall environment of bitterness, anger and resentment towards the system. You can’t earn anything. There is no obtainable objective by complying with their rules. In fact, I’ve seen in-mates benefit, who have deliberately not complied with the rules. It takes a great deal of patience to accept the seemingly whimsical approach the staff takes when evaluating inmates for jobs, furloughs, bunk assignments, half-way house, etc.
If you can accept that the environment is not a traditional merit-based system, then you have to contend with the general inmate philosophy. Not unlike “the outside”, inmates are selfish. I can accept that. However, inmates, unlike people on “the outside” are also aggressive. This doesn’t mean they are physically aggressive, although many of them are. Even the older ones are aggressive in terms of power or opinion or even things. I wrote in one of my earliest blogs that sometimes you just have to be wrong here. It’s the easiest way to defuse a situation. As I have adapted and gained some wisdom I wonder if I have also become more stubborn. I don’t know if I’m the one who is wrong as much. On Monday night I watch a t. v. show called “Chuck”. I’m only one of two guys who watch. Because I’ve been here for almost two years, I think the new guys defer to me because they are one being humble. I want to watch my show and these new guys will have to wait for their day. This is how my attitude has changed.
I started to notice this in soccer. I’ve always been competitive, and I’ve always struggled with my attitude in soccer. That same attitude of arrogance erupted again here. It required an extreme amount of self-control to refrain from allowing my pride to evolve into anger during some soccer games. I’ve decided against playing sports for the duration of my time.
As I prepare to return home, I think about the kind of husband and father I want to be. I certainly don’t want to take some of the prevailing attitudes from prison home. Somehow, over the next four months I need to relearn compassion, gentleness, patience and love—the attitudes that will make me a successful husband and father. The attitudes that I have adapted here are not going to help me be successful when I go home. I’m not sure how I will learn these other than trying to apply them to situations when the common response is usually the exact opposite. It will be a challenging four months.
I know that being arrested, shackled, and escorted before a judge in 2004 changed me. I had to reconsider who I was based on what I valued. Was I valuing my family, my spiritual beliefs, my possessions or something else? I came to the conclusion that much of my life was hypocrisy. What I said I valued I did really put as a high priority in my decisions. I tried for the three years that I was on pre-trial to implement a new set of values based on new priorities. I came to prison thinking that I had done an ok job of reprioritizing my life.
The challenge was being in prison. If there is anyone out there who thinks that prison is designed to rehabilitate, let me assure you that it is not. Rehabilitation is a change made by the individual. The system, in my opinion, works against you. Even though I came in here with the intent of living my life with different guiding principles, I was bombarded with the anger, bitter, aggressive and selfish culture that exists in every level of prison. I’m at the lowest level of security of incarceration and it is prevalent even here.
I’ve already written about how I found a good couple of friends. I am a Christian and I wanted to find other guys who shared that priority. I was blessed to be able to do so. Even so, the challenge of not allowing the culture of this place to change me confronted me daily and still does. You come to realize that the staff, for the most part, does not care. This creates an overall environment of bitterness, anger and resentment towards the system. You can’t earn anything. There is no obtainable objective by complying with their rules. In fact, I’ve seen in-mates benefit, who have deliberately not complied with the rules. It takes a great deal of patience to accept the seemingly whimsical approach the staff takes when evaluating inmates for jobs, furloughs, bunk assignments, half-way house, etc.
If you can accept that the environment is not a traditional merit-based system, then you have to contend with the general inmate philosophy. Not unlike “the outside”, inmates are selfish. I can accept that. However, inmates, unlike people on “the outside” are also aggressive. This doesn’t mean they are physically aggressive, although many of them are. Even the older ones are aggressive in terms of power or opinion or even things. I wrote in one of my earliest blogs that sometimes you just have to be wrong here. It’s the easiest way to defuse a situation. As I have adapted and gained some wisdom I wonder if I have also become more stubborn. I don’t know if I’m the one who is wrong as much. On Monday night I watch a t. v. show called “Chuck”. I’m only one of two guys who watch. Because I’ve been here for almost two years, I think the new guys defer to me because they are one being humble. I want to watch my show and these new guys will have to wait for their day. This is how my attitude has changed.
I started to notice this in soccer. I’ve always been competitive, and I’ve always struggled with my attitude in soccer. That same attitude of arrogance erupted again here. It required an extreme amount of self-control to refrain from allowing my pride to evolve into anger during some soccer games. I’ve decided against playing sports for the duration of my time.
As I prepare to return home, I think about the kind of husband and father I want to be. I certainly don’t want to take some of the prevailing attitudes from prison home. Somehow, over the next four months I need to relearn compassion, gentleness, patience and love—the attitudes that will make me a successful husband and father. The attitudes that I have adapted here are not going to help me be successful when I go home. I’m not sure how I will learn these other than trying to apply them to situations when the common response is usually the exact opposite. It will be a challenging four months.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Prisoners of War vs. Criminals
I recently finished a book called The Ways we Choose about a prisoner of war in Vietnam. The author, Dave Carey, spent five and a half years at the Hanoi Hilton. I don’t want to explain what the Hanoi Hilton was like because I don’t know. From Drew Carey’s book, I gathered it was bad.
Before I came to Taft, I watched a lot of war movies, particularly “Band of Brothers” and “To End All Wars”. “To End All Wars” was about a Japanese POW camp in Burma, I believe. The reason I watched these movies was to find hope in adversity. I watched these men endure incredible hardship and deprivation and survive. I hoped that I could go to prison and survive what I viewed as hardship equally well.
Let me first assure you that Taft Correctional Institute is not even close to the deprivation and hardship endured by POWs or soldiers. Our camp is attached to an INS low severity institution. I’ve heard stories where the low security prison provides a better lifestyle for some of the men than what they had on the outside. Of course a lot of guys complain about the food or the cubes in which we live, but it’s better than what most of the world calls home.
The standard of living at Taft is not really the point of this blog. The author of The Ways We Choose was beaten, starved and housed in cramped quarters, with a bucket for a toilet. Yet he and his compatriots endured. I admired the strength of these men. I wanted to know how these men could endure circumstances far worse than my circumstances. I wanted the same strength that these men had, but I’m not sure I have it. After reading the book I thought about what they had that I don’t.
One thing that stands out in the book and the movies is that the POWs and the soldiers were, for the most part, united against a common enemy. When I first arrived here I heard talk about how you were either on the side of the inmates or the guards. I even mentioned this in a blog about how you do your job at Taft. As I’ve observed over the 22 months I’ve been here it’s not as straightforward as that. Just because you step on this compound as an inmate does not make you accepted with the inmates. There is some unity, but it exists in factions. There are numerous factions based on all sorts of cultural and religious factors. You can even be classified by the type of crime and accepted by one group and ostracized by another. As I told my wife, it’s strange how you can live in close proximity with so many people, but feel completely lonely.
I’m not saying there is no unity here. There is if you can find the group to which you belong. This group may be as small as three to five people. I’m still a big proponent that the easiest way to do time is to find a good friend. This is very difficult, but it’s the only sense of unity I’ve felt. A unity that my friend and I had the same objectives, the same hopes and the same fears and we would help each other endure our time at Taft.
Another aspect that stood out in this book was the willingness of the POWs to sacrifice for one another. One story from the book describes how the POWs would communicate between cells. For hours guys would lie on a disgusting, dirty floor or hang onto a bar covering the window while muscles ached so that they could warn the one POW, who would knock on the wall, if the guards were coming. At first it sounds like the guy knocking on the wall had the easy job, until you learn that the guards would check the POW’s knuckles for bruising. That was the guy who got beaten. Nothing like this happens here at Taft.
I have a friend who is Hispanic. When we arrived, the Hispanics shunned him. I don’t know the exact reason, but I believe it was because my friend did not affiliate with any gang. The Hispanic guys wouldn’t give him soap or shower shoes. He was told to go to the chapel. As I’ve mentioned, the Christian inmates have a tithe box where we accumulate the basic necessities for new inmates. It seems that “going to the chapel” is only for those inmates who start their prison experience without any group.
You might think that because we all are enduring the same hardship that, like POWs, there would be a sense of unity and sacrifice. I think it exists, but only if you are accepted by a group. Usually this is through a gang affiliation. Your “homeys” or “your people” might look out for you, but it’s not always the case.
I’m thankful that I met a few good guys with whom I am friends. I guess “my people” in prison are the Christians. It took me a while to fit in even to that group. I’m also lucky in the sense that I’m a very good soccer player. That helped me cross boundaries into other groups. That does not happen all the time here, but it’s something I’m proud of. I still don’t see the unity and sacrifice of the POWs and I suppose I never will, but at least I contributed what I could to help create a sense of unity in the time I’ve spent here.
Before I came to Taft, I watched a lot of war movies, particularly “Band of Brothers” and “To End All Wars”. “To End All Wars” was about a Japanese POW camp in Burma, I believe. The reason I watched these movies was to find hope in adversity. I watched these men endure incredible hardship and deprivation and survive. I hoped that I could go to prison and survive what I viewed as hardship equally well.
Let me first assure you that Taft Correctional Institute is not even close to the deprivation and hardship endured by POWs or soldiers. Our camp is attached to an INS low severity institution. I’ve heard stories where the low security prison provides a better lifestyle for some of the men than what they had on the outside. Of course a lot of guys complain about the food or the cubes in which we live, but it’s better than what most of the world calls home.
The standard of living at Taft is not really the point of this blog. The author of The Ways We Choose was beaten, starved and housed in cramped quarters, with a bucket for a toilet. Yet he and his compatriots endured. I admired the strength of these men. I wanted to know how these men could endure circumstances far worse than my circumstances. I wanted the same strength that these men had, but I’m not sure I have it. After reading the book I thought about what they had that I don’t.
One thing that stands out in the book and the movies is that the POWs and the soldiers were, for the most part, united against a common enemy. When I first arrived here I heard talk about how you were either on the side of the inmates or the guards. I even mentioned this in a blog about how you do your job at Taft. As I’ve observed over the 22 months I’ve been here it’s not as straightforward as that. Just because you step on this compound as an inmate does not make you accepted with the inmates. There is some unity, but it exists in factions. There are numerous factions based on all sorts of cultural and religious factors. You can even be classified by the type of crime and accepted by one group and ostracized by another. As I told my wife, it’s strange how you can live in close proximity with so many people, but feel completely lonely.
I’m not saying there is no unity here. There is if you can find the group to which you belong. This group may be as small as three to five people. I’m still a big proponent that the easiest way to do time is to find a good friend. This is very difficult, but it’s the only sense of unity I’ve felt. A unity that my friend and I had the same objectives, the same hopes and the same fears and we would help each other endure our time at Taft.
Another aspect that stood out in this book was the willingness of the POWs to sacrifice for one another. One story from the book describes how the POWs would communicate between cells. For hours guys would lie on a disgusting, dirty floor or hang onto a bar covering the window while muscles ached so that they could warn the one POW, who would knock on the wall, if the guards were coming. At first it sounds like the guy knocking on the wall had the easy job, until you learn that the guards would check the POW’s knuckles for bruising. That was the guy who got beaten. Nothing like this happens here at Taft.
I have a friend who is Hispanic. When we arrived, the Hispanics shunned him. I don’t know the exact reason, but I believe it was because my friend did not affiliate with any gang. The Hispanic guys wouldn’t give him soap or shower shoes. He was told to go to the chapel. As I’ve mentioned, the Christian inmates have a tithe box where we accumulate the basic necessities for new inmates. It seems that “going to the chapel” is only for those inmates who start their prison experience without any group.
You might think that because we all are enduring the same hardship that, like POWs, there would be a sense of unity and sacrifice. I think it exists, but only if you are accepted by a group. Usually this is through a gang affiliation. Your “homeys” or “your people” might look out for you, but it’s not always the case.
I’m thankful that I met a few good guys with whom I am friends. I guess “my people” in prison are the Christians. It took me a while to fit in even to that group. I’m also lucky in the sense that I’m a very good soccer player. That helped me cross boundaries into other groups. That does not happen all the time here, but it’s something I’m proud of. I still don’t see the unity and sacrifice of the POWs and I suppose I never will, but at least I contributed what I could to help create a sense of unity in the time I’ve spent here.
Monday, February 23, 2009
"When we experience great fear . . ."
“When we experience great fear we attempt to exercise control over the situation no matter the negative consequences”
In my previous blog, I talked about how we sometimes act irrationally because of anger or depression. I wanted to follow up on that with a quote from a t.v. show on fox called “lie to me”. The show is about a couple of body language analysts who solve crimes or other problems by assessing whether or not suspects are lying during interrogations or interviews. In the first episode, the main character, played by Tom Roth, said something to the effect: “When we experience great feat we attempt to exercise control over the situation no matter the negative consequences.” I’m paraphrasing because I had to attempt to remember the quote before I wrote it down.
The quote supports my previous blog and adds another emotion that causes us to act irrationally. Some people might equate great fear or great sorrow with depression. Fear and anger can cause us to act in ways that most of us would say is out of our character. In my previous blog, the question was posed: “Why did you do this?” I didn’t have an answer although I believe many people are here because fear, anger or depression led them to do things without considering the consequences. I’m not going to say this is an excuse. What we all need to learn is how do I avoid the pitfalls of bad decisions because of anger or fear.
My suggestion to this is to surround yourself with friends who will challenge you and confront you if you are going down the wrong path. Having friends who are willing to do this and having the humility to allow them to do this is where personal life changes take place. Being humble enough to share your thoughts and decisions with these friends is a big step towards avoiding problems in the future. The problems may not necessarily be criminal either.
If you are married you should start by being open and honest with your wife. I wasn’t and I should have been. I admit it’s difficult being totally honest with my wife. We have had some serious arguments. However, I know our relationship grows stronger through the struggles. I certainly understand my wife better than I used to.
I’m also fortunate to have some Christian friends. I look back at my decision making that led me to prison and I found that I did not have a good friend with whom I could seek advise and counsel. I can also look at the times in my life when I did make good decisions and those times usually coincided with times I did share with friends and did accept their advice.
One of the things I wrote a long time ago in my blog was that the best way to get through you time here is to find a friend. I would also say that’s also true outside of here. Find a friend. Start with your spouse.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Blog - Why?
I remember rather vividly a question I was asked by another inmate about a month after my arrival here. I was in the herb garden and another 30-something white guy, (I specify the age and race because 30-something Caucasian males seem to be a small group here), asked me, “Why are you here?” The simple answer to that is the federal government decided to prosecute me and it’s not easy to beat them.
I thought about the “why” question more. I’m sure someone in your family has asked you, “Why did you do it?” I know my wife has asked me that question and, lately, my 6 year old son has asked another version of the “why” question. Unfortunately the “why did you do it?” question is not easy to answer.
There are some guys here who knew they were committing crimes. They knew that if they were caught they would go to prison. In spite of this they continued with their actions knowing that prison was part of the risks involved. There is another group of guys here that you look at and wonder, just as the inmate asked me, “Why are you here?” While I’m sure you can segregate out various groups of men, I want to talk about the group that by all appearances and by talking with them elicit the question, “Why are you here or why did you do it?”
I’ve already discussed in an earlier blog the effects of depression and anxiety that I have heard from a number of otherwise normal inmates. I believe that when we suffer from depression or anxiety, the decisions we make are not necessarily logical or thought through. Looking back at my own decisions I can see how I was unable to process the impact or possible results of my decisions. I also didn’t want to ask for or receive any advice once I started down the path of making decisions that were guided by anxiety and depression.
I don’t think it’s such a stretch to see how anxiety or depression impacts decisions. Some of our spouses or family members may make completely illogical purchases of clothing, electronics or even medication as a response to the feelings of anxiety or depression. I’ve known couples where one spouse just buys things to combat the depression. While this is not a crime it can ruin a family just as easily if the things are too expensive for the family’s income. Drugs and alcohol addiction usually start with feelings of anxiety or depression. The point is that when we suffer from anxiety or depression we tend to make decisions without thinking about or realizing the likely outcome. To answer the question “Why did you do this?” the response in some cases is “I don’t know. I thought what I was doing would help and I couldn’t see the problems associated with my decisions.” It’s possible to say that those of us who committed crimes and suffered from anxiety or depression were temporarily insane. If insanity is defined as making decisions without realizing what the outcome will be, then it is.
I think there is another reason that otherwise normal people commit crimes. In a way it is similar to the effects of depression in that the logical outcome of the action usually won’t match what the person intendeds. I’m speaking of anger. As a parent I can recall a situation where my son did something he wasn’t allowed to do. However, my response was extreme anger. While I would never strike my child, I did yell. This was stupid. The action I took was not going to teach my child. The consequence of my yelling probably caused more harm than my child’s action to begin with. I sometimes wonder if maybe some men are in prison because of a temporary lapse in the control of their anger. I’m sure we’ve all heard stories about moms or dads who murder their children and then they plead temporary insanity. Maybe that’s what it is. Again the answer to the question of “Why did you do this?” is possibly “I don’t know”.
I know a lot of men here wonder about the choices they made that got them here. Some of them still answer, “I don’t know.” I still can’t fathom how I walked down the path of bad decision after bad decision. I look back and think, “That wasn’t me. None of those decisions reflect the person I was and am.” I have to wonder if the effects of depression, and for some people the effects of anger, have that great an impact on us that we do things we can’t fathom even doing. I know I didn’t intentionally screw up my life and that of my family. For some reason I couldn’t see clearly what the outcome of my decisions would be.
I’m not a psychologist and I don’t have any answers to preventing bad decisions made through anxiety or anger. What I don know is that someone will read this who is either asking the question, “Why did you do this? Or has been asked that question. All I can say is the answer may truly be “I don’t know”. I do know that some of us who have made bad decisions certainly didn’t intend the pain we’ve caused.
I thought about the “why” question more. I’m sure someone in your family has asked you, “Why did you do it?” I know my wife has asked me that question and, lately, my 6 year old son has asked another version of the “why” question. Unfortunately the “why did you do it?” question is not easy to answer.
There are some guys here who knew they were committing crimes. They knew that if they were caught they would go to prison. In spite of this they continued with their actions knowing that prison was part of the risks involved. There is another group of guys here that you look at and wonder, just as the inmate asked me, “Why are you here?” While I’m sure you can segregate out various groups of men, I want to talk about the group that by all appearances and by talking with them elicit the question, “Why are you here or why did you do it?”
I’ve already discussed in an earlier blog the effects of depression and anxiety that I have heard from a number of otherwise normal inmates. I believe that when we suffer from depression or anxiety, the decisions we make are not necessarily logical or thought through. Looking back at my own decisions I can see how I was unable to process the impact or possible results of my decisions. I also didn’t want to ask for or receive any advice once I started down the path of making decisions that were guided by anxiety and depression.
I don’t think it’s such a stretch to see how anxiety or depression impacts decisions. Some of our spouses or family members may make completely illogical purchases of clothing, electronics or even medication as a response to the feelings of anxiety or depression. I’ve known couples where one spouse just buys things to combat the depression. While this is not a crime it can ruin a family just as easily if the things are too expensive for the family’s income. Drugs and alcohol addiction usually start with feelings of anxiety or depression. The point is that when we suffer from anxiety or depression we tend to make decisions without thinking about or realizing the likely outcome. To answer the question “Why did you do this?” the response in some cases is “I don’t know. I thought what I was doing would help and I couldn’t see the problems associated with my decisions.” It’s possible to say that those of us who committed crimes and suffered from anxiety or depression were temporarily insane. If insanity is defined as making decisions without realizing what the outcome will be, then it is.
I think there is another reason that otherwise normal people commit crimes. In a way it is similar to the effects of depression in that the logical outcome of the action usually won’t match what the person intendeds. I’m speaking of anger. As a parent I can recall a situation where my son did something he wasn’t allowed to do. However, my response was extreme anger. While I would never strike my child, I did yell. This was stupid. The action I took was not going to teach my child. The consequence of my yelling probably caused more harm than my child’s action to begin with. I sometimes wonder if maybe some men are in prison because of a temporary lapse in the control of their anger. I’m sure we’ve all heard stories about moms or dads who murder their children and then they plead temporary insanity. Maybe that’s what it is. Again the answer to the question of “Why did you do this?” is possibly “I don’t know”.
I know a lot of men here wonder about the choices they made that got them here. Some of them still answer, “I don’t know.” I still can’t fathom how I walked down the path of bad decision after bad decision. I look back and think, “That wasn’t me. None of those decisions reflect the person I was and am.” I have to wonder if the effects of depression, and for some people the effects of anger, have that great an impact on us that we do things we can’t fathom even doing. I know I didn’t intentionally screw up my life and that of my family. For some reason I couldn’t see clearly what the outcome of my decisions would be.
I’m not a psychologist and I don’t have any answers to preventing bad decisions made through anxiety or anger. What I don know is that someone will read this who is either asking the question, “Why did you do this? Or has been asked that question. All I can say is the answer may truly be “I don’t know”. I do know that some of us who have made bad decisions certainly didn’t intend the pain we’ve caused.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
January 2009 Quarterly Update
It has been a while since I posted a blog. Actually it’s been 3 months because my last blog was the October 2008 Quarterly Update. I’m now writing the January 2009 Quarterly Update. I apologize for the slowdown in posts. My brother, who was posting these for me, became too busy, so my father-in-law is now going to post. I’m amazed at my father-in-law. He spends a lot of time helping my wife watch our 2 boys. They use up a lot of energy. I hope my father-in-law has some left for the blogs. I hope to write more frequently again now that I have someone who can help.
A lot has happened since October. I call this the Holiday Period. In the 3 months since I last wrote, I’ve missed 4 holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Day. Needless to say it’s difficult to be away from your family during the holidays.
The bright spot in that time was my long awaited furlough. I was denied a furlough in April, but finally was approved in early October. The actual date of the furlough was December 20th. A furlough is a chance to get away from the institution for a set period of time. The initial furlough an inmate receives is 14 hours. This is what I had and there isn’t much to do in Taft or the surrounding area in 14 hours. Since it was close to Christmas I wanted to do some Christmas shopping for my kids. My kids did not come down for the furlough because it was too short of a time to justify 8 hours of traveling. Also my wife and I didn’t think my kids would understand why I was going back to the prison.
Some of you may think it is a waste of time to shop on a furlough, but one thing I’ve tried to accomplish here is to be a part of my kids’ lives as much as I can. I felt that actually picking out a gift from me to them would help me connect with them. It may be a small thing, but a lot of small things become memorable when they are put together.
One other thing I wanted to do was get real coffee. I never drank coffee until I got here. The only reason I started was coffee is cheap caffeine. Unfortunately, it’s not so cheap the way I make it. I’m not even sure it’s coffee. I put a teaspoon of coffee (instant of course) in a cup along with 2-3 tablespoons of hot chocolate, 1/2 teaspoon of non-dairy creamer, 1 pack of Sweet’N Low, and either a peppermint candy or cinnamon candy. Our first stop on the furlough was a Starbucks. I chose peppermint mocha. The grande was $3.80 . I was expecting something fantastic for $3.80 . What I got didn’t taste that much better than my 40¢ prison mocha. Now I’m not a coffee connoisseur so don’t think I know what I’m talking about. My point is the Starbucks wasn’t ten times as good as what I make.
The holidays were similar to last year. We had a pretty good Thanksgiving lunch and all the inmates received the Christmas bag. The Christmas bag is a bag of snacks and candy that the inmates get each year. My bag only lasted 1 week. Last year we also received a Christmas snack about a week before Christmas. This year the administration decided to not give us the chocolate milk and cookie.
The only thing I noticed this year is that Christmas Eve was much more festive, while New Year’s Eve was not. Last year New Year’s Eve was the most festive day of the year. I think this may have been my dorm. We didn’t get to shop the week of New Year’s Day so nobody had food to eat. When people get together and cook it’s a much happier time. The reason for not shopping is too long a story for this blog.
In early December, I went through my first BOP Audit as the fire and safety clerk. What a fiasco. My job was not much fun during November leading up to the audit. I had to explain on several occasions that I had no experience in fire and safety. At one point the sergeant wanted me to take responsibility for the fire sprinkler system in the dorms. Some of the sprinklers were out of alignment. I have to say that making an unqualified inmate responsible for something that only professionals should handle is a recipe for disaster. This kind of thing seemed to happen every week. I was also told to do the same job week after week by different people. Trying to say, “I already did that” doesn’t go very far.
I have been taking some classes these past 3 months. I finished Excel. It’s difficult taking a computer class when the computer lab is closed half of the time. It’s a good thing I know Excel or I wouldn’t have finished the class. I’m also taking crochet. This doesn’t sound like a class your would take in prison, but it’s very popular. It does pass the time, but I’ve also found that I can make a few things for my family. That makes it worth the stigma of working with yarn.
It was a difficult 3 months for me. Obviously the holidays are difficult. I also missed my younger son, Evan’s, third birthday. I’m thankful that I had some positive things to get me through. I’m also thankful for all of you that helped my wife and kids during this time. It makes a huge difference. The best news is I will be home next Thanksgiving and Christmas. Knowing it’s you last Christmas away from your family helps get you through.
A lot has happened since October. I call this the Holiday Period. In the 3 months since I last wrote, I’ve missed 4 holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Day. Needless to say it’s difficult to be away from your family during the holidays.
The bright spot in that time was my long awaited furlough. I was denied a furlough in April, but finally was approved in early October. The actual date of the furlough was December 20th. A furlough is a chance to get away from the institution for a set period of time. The initial furlough an inmate receives is 14 hours. This is what I had and there isn’t much to do in Taft or the surrounding area in 14 hours. Since it was close to Christmas I wanted to do some Christmas shopping for my kids. My kids did not come down for the furlough because it was too short of a time to justify 8 hours of traveling. Also my wife and I didn’t think my kids would understand why I was going back to the prison.
Some of you may think it is a waste of time to shop on a furlough, but one thing I’ve tried to accomplish here is to be a part of my kids’ lives as much as I can. I felt that actually picking out a gift from me to them would help me connect with them. It may be a small thing, but a lot of small things become memorable when they are put together.
One other thing I wanted to do was get real coffee. I never drank coffee until I got here. The only reason I started was coffee is cheap caffeine. Unfortunately, it’s not so cheap the way I make it. I’m not even sure it’s coffee. I put a teaspoon of coffee (instant of course) in a cup along with 2-3 tablespoons of hot chocolate, 1/2 teaspoon of non-dairy creamer, 1 pack of Sweet’N Low, and either a peppermint candy or cinnamon candy. Our first stop on the furlough was a Starbucks. I chose peppermint mocha. The grande was $3.80 . I was expecting something fantastic for $3.80 . What I got didn’t taste that much better than my 40¢ prison mocha. Now I’m not a coffee connoisseur so don’t think I know what I’m talking about. My point is the Starbucks wasn’t ten times as good as what I make.
The holidays were similar to last year. We had a pretty good Thanksgiving lunch and all the inmates received the Christmas bag. The Christmas bag is a bag of snacks and candy that the inmates get each year. My bag only lasted 1 week. Last year we also received a Christmas snack about a week before Christmas. This year the administration decided to not give us the chocolate milk and cookie.
The only thing I noticed this year is that Christmas Eve was much more festive, while New Year’s Eve was not. Last year New Year’s Eve was the most festive day of the year. I think this may have been my dorm. We didn’t get to shop the week of New Year’s Day so nobody had food to eat. When people get together and cook it’s a much happier time. The reason for not shopping is too long a story for this blog.
In early December, I went through my first BOP Audit as the fire and safety clerk. What a fiasco. My job was not much fun during November leading up to the audit. I had to explain on several occasions that I had no experience in fire and safety. At one point the sergeant wanted me to take responsibility for the fire sprinkler system in the dorms. Some of the sprinklers were out of alignment. I have to say that making an unqualified inmate responsible for something that only professionals should handle is a recipe for disaster. This kind of thing seemed to happen every week. I was also told to do the same job week after week by different people. Trying to say, “I already did that” doesn’t go very far.
I have been taking some classes these past 3 months. I finished Excel. It’s difficult taking a computer class when the computer lab is closed half of the time. It’s a good thing I know Excel or I wouldn’t have finished the class. I’m also taking crochet. This doesn’t sound like a class your would take in prison, but it’s very popular. It does pass the time, but I’ve also found that I can make a few things for my family. That makes it worth the stigma of working with yarn.
It was a difficult 3 months for me. Obviously the holidays are difficult. I also missed my younger son, Evan’s, third birthday. I’m thankful that I had some positive things to get me through. I’m also thankful for all of you that helped my wife and kids during this time. It makes a huge difference. The best news is I will be home next Thanksgiving and Christmas. Knowing it’s you last Christmas away from your family helps get you through.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Update (#48)
I haven't had a chance to update Jeff's blog recently. He did send me a quarterly update, which is now about 2 months old. I'm going to add some things that have changed for Jeff over the past couple of months.
First, Jeff left his out crew. The out crew served its purpose of allowing Jeff to apply for and receive a furlough. He gets to leave the camp for 48 hours on Dec. 20. He will spend the two days with his wife and kids. He is really looking forward to that. His new job is back at the camp. He has described it as a clerical job and he monitors safety at the camp. I'm not exactly sure what he does, except that he has to inspect doors, fire extinguishers, etc. to make sure that they are working and not a fire hazard for the inmates. He says that the prison guards are pretty disorganized, and he ends up repeating inspections and wasting a lot of time. I've found this to be a regular grip from him about the prison. It seems that efficiency and common sense disappear there. In my opinion, from reading my brother's letters and some other books written by prisoner and ex-prisoners, it seems that some guards use their positions of authority to belittle and condescend to the prisoners, even when the prisoners make good sense. But, that happens at my job at times, except the guards are middle level managers.
Jeff is also taking some computer courses in excel and word. I would have thought these would be a waste of time for him, but he says it's amazing what you forget when you haven't used excel in over a year. He's learning to use the keyboard again as well. He really enjoys working on the computer. It makes him feel like he's in the 21st century. If you recall, the prisoners aren't able to access email, and the Internet So, just getting to use a computer is a nice bonus for Jeff.
In other news, Jeff was assigned to his pre-release halfway house in Salinas. He won't be able to report to the house until July 21, 2009, but this was an answer to prayer because the other options were Oakland and San Fran. Salinas is a small halfway house, but its close to his home and he can begin to find work right away and we hope get on home confinement after a month or so for the duration of his sentence (which ends next Nov. 21).
That's the last news, Jeff is in his final year. He endured his last Thanksgiving on the inside, and this will be the last year that he misses his son's birthday and Christmas. So, I was thankful for that this Thanksgiving.
Scott
First, Jeff left his out crew. The out crew served its purpose of allowing Jeff to apply for and receive a furlough. He gets to leave the camp for 48 hours on Dec. 20. He will spend the two days with his wife and kids. He is really looking forward to that. His new job is back at the camp. He has described it as a clerical job and he monitors safety at the camp. I'm not exactly sure what he does, except that he has to inspect doors, fire extinguishers, etc. to make sure that they are working and not a fire hazard for the inmates. He says that the prison guards are pretty disorganized, and he ends up repeating inspections and wasting a lot of time. I've found this to be a regular grip from him about the prison. It seems that efficiency and common sense disappear there. In my opinion, from reading my brother's letters and some other books written by prisoner and ex-prisoners, it seems that some guards use their positions of authority to belittle and condescend to the prisoners, even when the prisoners make good sense. But, that happens at my job at times, except the guards are middle level managers.
Jeff is also taking some computer courses in excel and word. I would have thought these would be a waste of time for him, but he says it's amazing what you forget when you haven't used excel in over a year. He's learning to use the keyboard again as well. He really enjoys working on the computer. It makes him feel like he's in the 21st century. If you recall, the prisoners aren't able to access email, and the Internet So, just getting to use a computer is a nice bonus for Jeff.
In other news, Jeff was assigned to his pre-release halfway house in Salinas. He won't be able to report to the house until July 21, 2009, but this was an answer to prayer because the other options were Oakland and San Fran. Salinas is a small halfway house, but its close to his home and he can begin to find work right away and we hope get on home confinement after a month or so for the duration of his sentence (which ends next Nov. 21).
That's the last news, Jeff is in his final year. He endured his last Thanksgiving on the inside, and this will be the last year that he misses his son's birthday and Christmas. So, I was thankful for that this Thanksgiving.
Scott
Monday, September 29, 2008
Musings (#47)
Not much changes from day to day in a prison camp except for the people. Unlike most federal prisons, a prison camp has high turnover. People come in for a few months and then they are gone. Those of us who have a longer stay at camp just continue on with our routine. Sometimes a new guy will fit in somewhere; sometimes they won’t. At the beginning of my time I thought I would try to meet all the new guys that came in. I was baffled by the long-timers who later told me they don’t talk to anybody with a 6 month or less sentence. I now know why they do that.
Surprisingly I actually have a very busy schedule. Because I leave the prison camp everyday, my contact with other inmates is limited. When I’m at the camp I try to follow a schedule of exercise and classes. After a while you realize that inmates with short sentences don’t cross your path. I don’t have the time to seek out all the new inmates and get to know them. Rather, I let the prison routine do that. I still meet new inmates. I might sit with one at a meal or meet one in soccer or in a bible study. It’s convenient to meet a new guy in an activity in which you are involved. The activity you have in common has reduced a barrier. It’s easier to approach a guy and get to know him when you can talk about soccer or the bible study topic.
Sometimes you meet a new guy and you know something isn’t quite right. This happens most often with people who have different values than you. On a rare occasion you will talk to someone who is not mentally stable. This happened to my friend and me the other day at breakfast. We sat down with a new guy (it’s obvious who the new guys are because they have on blue canvas shoes and usually poorly fitting shirt and pants) and my friend starting asking harmless, normal questions. Where did you transfer from, where do you live, etc. Normal stuff that all of us have been asked. Oddly, this guy didn’t answer the questions. He started talking, but it was as if the question was simply a signal for him to start talking. When he left my friend looked at me and said exactly what I was thinking, “that was weird.”
Later I heard that this same guy got into some trouble. Apparently he went into one of the Spanish television rooms and changed the channels while several of the Latino guys were watching a program. First, just changing the channel in a tv room is a risky proposition, and second, this guy is Caucasian. (see previous blog for a discussion of the various tv rooms). This is about the worst non-verbal insult you can make at a prison camp. Normally a camp has very little tension or aggressive behavior, but this was a situation where things could have escalated. I think more fights start over what is on television than any other reason. I wasn’t surprised to hear about this guy doing something social inept. He clearly wasn’t operating by conventional social standards of those in prison.
One thing that remains is the assignment of nicknames to newcomers. (Jeff wrote about nicknames in a prior blog as well). Of course, you need to have a lengthy sentence to get a legitimate nickname, otherwise the catch-all nickname is “short-timer.” A favorite, but uncreative nickname is to call yourself by the name of the city or country from which you came. A few examples I have seen here are: Vegas, Fresno, Panama, and Columbia. I suppose those work. What you don’t want is a derogatory nickname based on something you do or say. My dad has a bunkie that we call “Santa Claus” or “Crazy Santa.” He looks like Santa Claus and sometimes he says and does some odd things. Mydad has yet to be given a nickname. That’s probably good. It means he’s keeping a low profile.
On occasion our commissary or store will change the items they sell. This isn’t always a good thing. Recently they changed the coffee. We now get less coffee with a 35% increase in price. The cookie/snack section changes the most frequently. Recently, they added a generic oreo cookie as well as a generic ho ho. The “swiss rolls,” as they are named, are very popular. I bought a box containing 12 rolls. Within 48 hours they were gone. Needless to say, I cannot afford a habit like that.
Another interesting change to the store list was the addition of rayon basketball shorts. I really like these shorts. I would never buy these in the real world, but for prison, they are ideal for running and sports. Sometimes the changes in what they sell can make you feel a little like you do at Christmas. I was very excited to get these shorts. They have proven to be a good purchase.
Jeff
Surprisingly I actually have a very busy schedule. Because I leave the prison camp everyday, my contact with other inmates is limited. When I’m at the camp I try to follow a schedule of exercise and classes. After a while you realize that inmates with short sentences don’t cross your path. I don’t have the time to seek out all the new inmates and get to know them. Rather, I let the prison routine do that. I still meet new inmates. I might sit with one at a meal or meet one in soccer or in a bible study. It’s convenient to meet a new guy in an activity in which you are involved. The activity you have in common has reduced a barrier. It’s easier to approach a guy and get to know him when you can talk about soccer or the bible study topic.
Sometimes you meet a new guy and you know something isn’t quite right. This happens most often with people who have different values than you. On a rare occasion you will talk to someone who is not mentally stable. This happened to my friend and me the other day at breakfast. We sat down with a new guy (it’s obvious who the new guys are because they have on blue canvas shoes and usually poorly fitting shirt and pants) and my friend starting asking harmless, normal questions. Where did you transfer from, where do you live, etc. Normal stuff that all of us have been asked. Oddly, this guy didn’t answer the questions. He started talking, but it was as if the question was simply a signal for him to start talking. When he left my friend looked at me and said exactly what I was thinking, “that was weird.”
Later I heard that this same guy got into some trouble. Apparently he went into one of the Spanish television rooms and changed the channels while several of the Latino guys were watching a program. First, just changing the channel in a tv room is a risky proposition, and second, this guy is Caucasian. (see previous blog for a discussion of the various tv rooms). This is about the worst non-verbal insult you can make at a prison camp. Normally a camp has very little tension or aggressive behavior, but this was a situation where things could have escalated. I think more fights start over what is on television than any other reason. I wasn’t surprised to hear about this guy doing something social inept. He clearly wasn’t operating by conventional social standards of those in prison.
One thing that remains is the assignment of nicknames to newcomers. (Jeff wrote about nicknames in a prior blog as well). Of course, you need to have a lengthy sentence to get a legitimate nickname, otherwise the catch-all nickname is “short-timer.” A favorite, but uncreative nickname is to call yourself by the name of the city or country from which you came. A few examples I have seen here are: Vegas, Fresno, Panama, and Columbia. I suppose those work. What you don’t want is a derogatory nickname based on something you do or say. My dad has a bunkie that we call “Santa Claus” or “Crazy Santa.” He looks like Santa Claus and sometimes he says and does some odd things. Mydad has yet to be given a nickname. That’s probably good. It means he’s keeping a low profile.
On occasion our commissary or store will change the items they sell. This isn’t always a good thing. Recently they changed the coffee. We now get less coffee with a 35% increase in price. The cookie/snack section changes the most frequently. Recently, they added a generic oreo cookie as well as a generic ho ho. The “swiss rolls,” as they are named, are very popular. I bought a box containing 12 rolls. Within 48 hours they were gone. Needless to say, I cannot afford a habit like that.
Another interesting change to the store list was the addition of rayon basketball shorts. I really like these shorts. I would never buy these in the real world, but for prison, they are ideal for running and sports. Sometimes the changes in what they sell can make you feel a little like you do at Christmas. I was very excited to get these shorts. They have proven to be a good purchase.
Jeff
Outside Soccer (#46)
I recently played in a soccer game against a team from outside of the camp. The team was from the Taft Jr. college, and they traveled to our camp to play a game against several of the inmates. This is similar to the movie “The Longest Yard” where the inmates play the guards in football. In the case of the soccer game, the outside team did not have any guards or any staff members that I know of. However, in some other outside games, the guards have played against the inmates on the outside team. The soccer game was the 4th such outside game played at the camp in the past 14 months I’ve been here. The three previous games were basketball, softball, and a second basketball game.
These outside (outside in this context means “not in prison, as “inside” means incarcerated among the inmates) games are very popular events. Generally, an outside team playing a compound team will draw at least half of the inmates as spectators. Part of this is just plain boredom, and the games are something a bit out of the ordinary. But, part of it is also a sense of pride in the inmates. To compete and do well against and outside team gives the inmates, in my opinion, a sense of pride and accomplishment, and acceptance into regular society. I think it makes the inmates feel human a bit, as the camp, and much more so in higher security levels, tend to make one feel inhuman. The game speaks for the inmates saying, “we can do what you do. We aren’t different from you.” That feeling, although not frequently expressed verbally by individual inmates, is expressed collectively when the compound performs well against the outside team.
For me personally, this soccer game ranked in the top 10 games in attendance in which I have played. There were probably 250 people watching this game, about half of the camp. Ironically, this game ranked in the bottom 10 of any soccer game I’ve played as far as importance in my life. It was a bit strange to have so many people care about a soccer game that, to me, had little to no significance in my life. That does not mean I didn’t care about the game. I always want to play well and do my best, but the outcome meant nothing. I wouldn’t get a trophy or a scholarship offer or paid for playing. It was equivalent to an intramural game in college in terms of importance in my life.
If you had asked me 2 months before the game, I would have told you I had no interest in being on the team at all. I was in the middle of the camp soccer league and genuinely hating it. I didn’t want to play soccer at the camp anymore with the people there. I was constantly criticized for my play and attitude. I had nothing to prove, and was playing injured almost every game. I’m a white guy with a long soccer resume playing in a predominantly Hispanic sport in prison. I was going to decline an invitation to play, but when the best player asked me personally to play, I decided to do it. I thought that my best approach would be to keep my mouth shut and do whatever was asked of me. That’s hard for me to do. Over the next month an a half of training, I did my best to encourage others and not get frustrated. Unfortunately, I couldn’t maintain that self control all of the time.
My frustration surfaced during the game. I did not realize that we would be playing 20 year-olds. These guys could run and run. The average age of our team was probably 30 or so, and the starters’ age was higher than that. It became evident after 30 minutes that we weren’t going to be able to keep pace. I cam down with a cold a day or two before the game and got hit hard with the cold on the day of the game. What stamina I had seemed to disappear. Being constantly exhausted makes one’s play deteriorate. That’s when I got frustrated. I was mostly frustrated with myself, but on occasion that frustration spilled over to my teammates, and that’s not good. For any of the guys who played in that game, I apologize.
The game ended in a loss for my inmate team. I think part of the problem was our coach and best player got injured about 20 minutes into the game. We were up 1-0 at that point. I believe we were the more skilled team, but the loss of our coach got us out of rhythm. The other team had some good players, but I think their biggest strength was their stamina. We ended up losing 5-2. It was difficult to keep up with the constant running.
I enjoyed the experience much more than I thought going into it. I enjoyed playing with the team and for the first time in a long time I experienced some good competition. I had given up competitive soccer in return for the much less stressful recreational soccer. This was the first time in about 10 years that I played with a “select team” against another “select team.” That experience was fun and I would be honored to be selected again.
In case you were wondering, the inmate basketball team lost both of its games, but the inmate softball team destroyed the outside team.
Scott’s addition. Jeff sent this blog to me in early June and I misplaced it. It was attached to a letter he sent to me, and I had forgotten that he attached it. He usually sends blogs separately. At any rate, he has since been selected to play against the same outside team in early Sept., and this time the inmates won 7-3. Jeff played about half of the game, to see his team go up 5-1. He was suffering from an abdominal strain and was having difficulty running and moving without pain. But, he wanted to show that he could be encouraging to his teammates. Unfortunately, he is still hurting from the game as his abdomen didn’t get any better.
Jeff
These outside (outside in this context means “not in prison, as “inside” means incarcerated among the inmates) games are very popular events. Generally, an outside team playing a compound team will draw at least half of the inmates as spectators. Part of this is just plain boredom, and the games are something a bit out of the ordinary. But, part of it is also a sense of pride in the inmates. To compete and do well against and outside team gives the inmates, in my opinion, a sense of pride and accomplishment, and acceptance into regular society. I think it makes the inmates feel human a bit, as the camp, and much more so in higher security levels, tend to make one feel inhuman. The game speaks for the inmates saying, “we can do what you do. We aren’t different from you.” That feeling, although not frequently expressed verbally by individual inmates, is expressed collectively when the compound performs well against the outside team.
For me personally, this soccer game ranked in the top 10 games in attendance in which I have played. There were probably 250 people watching this game, about half of the camp. Ironically, this game ranked in the bottom 10 of any soccer game I’ve played as far as importance in my life. It was a bit strange to have so many people care about a soccer game that, to me, had little to no significance in my life. That does not mean I didn’t care about the game. I always want to play well and do my best, but the outcome meant nothing. I wouldn’t get a trophy or a scholarship offer or paid for playing. It was equivalent to an intramural game in college in terms of importance in my life.
If you had asked me 2 months before the game, I would have told you I had no interest in being on the team at all. I was in the middle of the camp soccer league and genuinely hating it. I didn’t want to play soccer at the camp anymore with the people there. I was constantly criticized for my play and attitude. I had nothing to prove, and was playing injured almost every game. I’m a white guy with a long soccer resume playing in a predominantly Hispanic sport in prison. I was going to decline an invitation to play, but when the best player asked me personally to play, I decided to do it. I thought that my best approach would be to keep my mouth shut and do whatever was asked of me. That’s hard for me to do. Over the next month an a half of training, I did my best to encourage others and not get frustrated. Unfortunately, I couldn’t maintain that self control all of the time.
My frustration surfaced during the game. I did not realize that we would be playing 20 year-olds. These guys could run and run. The average age of our team was probably 30 or so, and the starters’ age was higher than that. It became evident after 30 minutes that we weren’t going to be able to keep pace. I cam down with a cold a day or two before the game and got hit hard with the cold on the day of the game. What stamina I had seemed to disappear. Being constantly exhausted makes one’s play deteriorate. That’s when I got frustrated. I was mostly frustrated with myself, but on occasion that frustration spilled over to my teammates, and that’s not good. For any of the guys who played in that game, I apologize.
The game ended in a loss for my inmate team. I think part of the problem was our coach and best player got injured about 20 minutes into the game. We were up 1-0 at that point. I believe we were the more skilled team, but the loss of our coach got us out of rhythm. The other team had some good players, but I think their biggest strength was their stamina. We ended up losing 5-2. It was difficult to keep up with the constant running.
I enjoyed the experience much more than I thought going into it. I enjoyed playing with the team and for the first time in a long time I experienced some good competition. I had given up competitive soccer in return for the much less stressful recreational soccer. This was the first time in about 10 years that I played with a “select team” against another “select team.” That experience was fun and I would be honored to be selected again.
In case you were wondering, the inmate basketball team lost both of its games, but the inmate softball team destroyed the outside team.
Scott’s addition. Jeff sent this blog to me in early June and I misplaced it. It was attached to a letter he sent to me, and I had forgotten that he attached it. He usually sends blogs separately. At any rate, he has since been selected to play against the same outside team in early Sept., and this time the inmates won 7-3. Jeff played about half of the game, to see his team go up 5-1. He was suffering from an abdominal strain and was having difficulty running and moving without pain. But, he wanted to show that he could be encouraging to his teammates. Unfortunately, he is still hurting from the game as his abdomen didn’t get any better.
Jeff
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Spoons (#45)
I recently had a “remember you are in prison” experience. I thought it was worth sharing. This past weekend I got up at 6 am to go to breakfast. One thing about prison that is as close to constant and reliable as you can get is the menu. Every Saturday morning we have corn flakes and coffee cake. If we ever get a different cereal, I am ecstatic. On occasion we do, but that is not the point of this blog. I digress.
The chow hall is also somewhat consistent in terms of what to expect and the procedures for getting food and eating. The chow hall is very similar to a cafeteria. It reminds me of the chow halls in college. Meals are served at certain times of the day. You almost always stand in a line for 15 minutes. When you get to the serving counter you get your tray and plastic wear. The servers are assigned 1 item and put it on your tray. At the end of the line you take a cup and fill it with your beverage. Even the choice of beverage is consistent meal to meal.
On Saturday morning there was a change in the chow hall routine. At the point where we get our plastic wear, we only had spoons. Typically, there are two rows of utensils with forks on the top row and spoons on the bottom. However, the utensils are placed in the dispensers with only the handle showing, so you do not see whether the utensil you are grabbing is a fork or spoon until you pick it out. You go by routine. Spoons on top, forks on bottom. It’s generally not an issue, unless you our out of a certain utensil. On Saturday morning, the fork row was empty. We only had a choice of spoons. I didn’t think a whole lot about it other than it was weird eating coffee cake with a spoon.
At lunch when I arrived at the utensil dispenser there were the two rows of utensils. Naturally, I thought that the forks would be on top and the spoons on the bottom. To my surprise, both rows were spoons. I couldn’t put the spoon back; that’s a prison rule. Once you touch a tray or a utensil, it’s yours. So, I had two spoons at lunch.
A few seconds after grabbing my second spoon, the guard that overseas the kitchen (yes, there is a guard for this – because the kitchen is a great place to steal food and spices to trade) tell another inmate that he only needed one spoon. As I grabbed my cup and passed the guard she told me, “you don’t need two spoons.” I tried to explain the situation. “Yes, but I had already touched the second spoon. I couldn’t put it back after I had touched it.” That seemed to hit a nerve with her. She got angry and retorted, “What? You think I don’t know that?” I replied meekly, “No, I was simply saying that I had no choice once I took that second spoon. There was nothing I could do.” (Inmates often complain about the dehumanizing aspect of prison. When dealing with guards who neither care to learn the facts, or treat the inmates as beneath them, I’m not amazed to hear about inmate violence at higher security prisons).
That evening at dinner I didn’t take any chances. I only took a spoon. By that time the rumor had spread that we weren’t’ given forks because inmates were either stealing them, or throwing them away. The same guard that lectured me about my excessive spoon issue at lunch was back at dinner. I overheard another inmate ask her when we would get forks back. She replied, “You can buy forks at the commissary,” as if to imply that we should buy them and bring in our own forks if we want to use such a utensil. This was odd because it’s against policy for an inmate to bring anything to a meal except one condiment. We are not allowed to bring our own cups to the chow hall. It’s always humorous (frustratingly so) when a guard tells you to do something that is against policy. Needless to say it was difficult to eat my salad and chicken patty with a spoon. I was late for my softball game because of it.
Epilogue: On Monday morning we had forks again. I have not seen the fork Nazi guard, but she will be back this weekend. We might be deprived of forks for all of our weekend meals.
Other interesting things:
For those of you who don’t know, we get counted, literally, physically counted by the guards, multiple times each day. The two main counts, also called standing counts because we have to stand, and several counts during the middle of the night. I don’t understand these. We can’t go outside because the door is locked. Why bother counting? Anyway, the other day a guard announces over the camp PA system to put our chairs in our cubicles. The guards were going to count our chairs. Oddly our chairs have to be in our cubes on Fri. morning as it is at the 8 am weekly inspection. Why not count the chairs then? Oh well, that’s someone else’s problem.
Jeff
The chow hall is also somewhat consistent in terms of what to expect and the procedures for getting food and eating. The chow hall is very similar to a cafeteria. It reminds me of the chow halls in college. Meals are served at certain times of the day. You almost always stand in a line for 15 minutes. When you get to the serving counter you get your tray and plastic wear. The servers are assigned 1 item and put it on your tray. At the end of the line you take a cup and fill it with your beverage. Even the choice of beverage is consistent meal to meal.
On Saturday morning there was a change in the chow hall routine. At the point where we get our plastic wear, we only had spoons. Typically, there are two rows of utensils with forks on the top row and spoons on the bottom. However, the utensils are placed in the dispensers with only the handle showing, so you do not see whether the utensil you are grabbing is a fork or spoon until you pick it out. You go by routine. Spoons on top, forks on bottom. It’s generally not an issue, unless you our out of a certain utensil. On Saturday morning, the fork row was empty. We only had a choice of spoons. I didn’t think a whole lot about it other than it was weird eating coffee cake with a spoon.
At lunch when I arrived at the utensil dispenser there were the two rows of utensils. Naturally, I thought that the forks would be on top and the spoons on the bottom. To my surprise, both rows were spoons. I couldn’t put the spoon back; that’s a prison rule. Once you touch a tray or a utensil, it’s yours. So, I had two spoons at lunch.
A few seconds after grabbing my second spoon, the guard that overseas the kitchen (yes, there is a guard for this – because the kitchen is a great place to steal food and spices to trade) tell another inmate that he only needed one spoon. As I grabbed my cup and passed the guard she told me, “you don’t need two spoons.” I tried to explain the situation. “Yes, but I had already touched the second spoon. I couldn’t put it back after I had touched it.” That seemed to hit a nerve with her. She got angry and retorted, “What? You think I don’t know that?” I replied meekly, “No, I was simply saying that I had no choice once I took that second spoon. There was nothing I could do.” (Inmates often complain about the dehumanizing aspect of prison. When dealing with guards who neither care to learn the facts, or treat the inmates as beneath them, I’m not amazed to hear about inmate violence at higher security prisons).
That evening at dinner I didn’t take any chances. I only took a spoon. By that time the rumor had spread that we weren’t’ given forks because inmates were either stealing them, or throwing them away. The same guard that lectured me about my excessive spoon issue at lunch was back at dinner. I overheard another inmate ask her when we would get forks back. She replied, “You can buy forks at the commissary,” as if to imply that we should buy them and bring in our own forks if we want to use such a utensil. This was odd because it’s against policy for an inmate to bring anything to a meal except one condiment. We are not allowed to bring our own cups to the chow hall. It’s always humorous (frustratingly so) when a guard tells you to do something that is against policy. Needless to say it was difficult to eat my salad and chicken patty with a spoon. I was late for my softball game because of it.
Epilogue: On Monday morning we had forks again. I have not seen the fork Nazi guard, but she will be back this weekend. We might be deprived of forks for all of our weekend meals.
Other interesting things:
For those of you who don’t know, we get counted, literally, physically counted by the guards, multiple times each day. The two main counts, also called standing counts because we have to stand, and several counts during the middle of the night. I don’t understand these. We can’t go outside because the door is locked. Why bother counting? Anyway, the other day a guard announces over the camp PA system to put our chairs in our cubicles. The guards were going to count our chairs. Oddly our chairs have to be in our cubes on Fri. morning as it is at the 8 am weekly inspection. Why not count the chairs then? Oh well, that’s someone else’s problem.
Jeff
Quarterly Update Summer '08 (#44)
Sorry it has taken me so long to update the blog. Just a busy summer. Here is Jeff's quarterly update from July.
I’ve been at Taft Camp for 15 months now. I’ve actually managed to settle in and the days are much easier. At a camp this is called “institutionalized.” I watch whatever movie we get every Friday at 7 pm just because it’s something to do. I’ve figured out what to buy at the store and I even joined a b-league softball league. Most of the activities in which I participate I would not do in my ordinary life outside of prison. For example, I would never play softball. Most of the movies I watch I would never rent much less pay full price to see in a theater. Most of the books I read I would not be able to read because of a lack of time if I were at home. But, these are the ways to pass time here. I have gotten to a point where I actually look forward to the Friday night movie. When I first arrived, I probably watched 4 movies in the first 4 months. There are some weekends where I watch 4 movies.
One of the toughest things that I have had to do over the past 3 months is adjusting to the psychological impact of the completion of my 1st year here. When you start to see the same activities, repeat weather patterns, seasons, and holidays, it’s a challenge to stay focused. I admire the guys who have to do several years here. The redundancy of it would drive me a little crazy. I understand why I play softball when those who know me wonder what I’m doing. It’s new and different to me, and that keeps me a bit more sane. That’s how guys with long sentences avoid the depressing repetition of it all. They play cards, watch tv, play sports, take classes, and do whatever they can to provide some variety.
One of the more interesting things from my time here happened to me last quarter. A guy who was sentenced to 20 months researched prison camps on the web. He came across my blog. It turned out that he was designated for Taft and he contacted me. He arrived at Taft earlier this month (July) and I’ve spent a lot of time with him. It was an encouraging experience for me to realize that this blog is helping other people. I’ve enjoyed talking with this guy (I don’t want to use his name because I haven’t told him I would use his name) and I look forward to developing a stronger friendship as we progress through this time together. I had been struggling with how God is using me here, but I believe God is teaching me not to look for results, but to just remain obedient and focused on Him.
My wife and I both turned 36 earlier this month (Laura on the 4th and Jeff on the 9th of July). This was a difficult time for both of us because our birthdays are close together. We usually go on vacation for our birthdays. I look back at my last birthday and realize how thankful I should be. My wife and I have both matured in our faith during the past year. My wife sees opportunities to use this struggle for God’s glory almost every day. She leads a women’s support group for those who have loved ones in prison. She also facilitates a bible study and hosts a small group at our home. She is constantly sharing with neighbors and friends of her struggle and here endurance through Jesus Christ. I must say I’m very proud of my wife.
On the lighter side of things, the commissary, or prison store, is selling Dr. Pepper again. It will only last for another month, so I buy a lot and try to save it. The store is also selling generic cocoa puffs. I love cocoa puffs. To put this in perspective, I have to work for 6 days to afford a six-pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of cocoa puffs. In the “real” world, I worked 10 minutes to buy those same items. Buying a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of cocoa puffs is like buying a flat screen television for many of you. In other words, it’s a pretty big purchase and big deal here.
In closing, I’m enjoying my new cube with my new bunking. My cube has a window and my bunkie makes me laugh. It has been much easier doing my time in this cube. That’s it for now.
Jeff
I’ve been at Taft Camp for 15 months now. I’ve actually managed to settle in and the days are much easier. At a camp this is called “institutionalized.” I watch whatever movie we get every Friday at 7 pm just because it’s something to do. I’ve figured out what to buy at the store and I even joined a b-league softball league. Most of the activities in which I participate I would not do in my ordinary life outside of prison. For example, I would never play softball. Most of the movies I watch I would never rent much less pay full price to see in a theater. Most of the books I read I would not be able to read because of a lack of time if I were at home. But, these are the ways to pass time here. I have gotten to a point where I actually look forward to the Friday night movie. When I first arrived, I probably watched 4 movies in the first 4 months. There are some weekends where I watch 4 movies.
One of the toughest things that I have had to do over the past 3 months is adjusting to the psychological impact of the completion of my 1st year here. When you start to see the same activities, repeat weather patterns, seasons, and holidays, it’s a challenge to stay focused. I admire the guys who have to do several years here. The redundancy of it would drive me a little crazy. I understand why I play softball when those who know me wonder what I’m doing. It’s new and different to me, and that keeps me a bit more sane. That’s how guys with long sentences avoid the depressing repetition of it all. They play cards, watch tv, play sports, take classes, and do whatever they can to provide some variety.
One of the more interesting things from my time here happened to me last quarter. A guy who was sentenced to 20 months researched prison camps on the web. He came across my blog. It turned out that he was designated for Taft and he contacted me. He arrived at Taft earlier this month (July) and I’ve spent a lot of time with him. It was an encouraging experience for me to realize that this blog is helping other people. I’ve enjoyed talking with this guy (I don’t want to use his name because I haven’t told him I would use his name) and I look forward to developing a stronger friendship as we progress through this time together. I had been struggling with how God is using me here, but I believe God is teaching me not to look for results, but to just remain obedient and focused on Him.
My wife and I both turned 36 earlier this month (Laura on the 4th and Jeff on the 9th of July). This was a difficult time for both of us because our birthdays are close together. We usually go on vacation for our birthdays. I look back at my last birthday and realize how thankful I should be. My wife and I have both matured in our faith during the past year. My wife sees opportunities to use this struggle for God’s glory almost every day. She leads a women’s support group for those who have loved ones in prison. She also facilitates a bible study and hosts a small group at our home. She is constantly sharing with neighbors and friends of her struggle and here endurance through Jesus Christ. I must say I’m very proud of my wife.
On the lighter side of things, the commissary, or prison store, is selling Dr. Pepper again. It will only last for another month, so I buy a lot and try to save it. The store is also selling generic cocoa puffs. I love cocoa puffs. To put this in perspective, I have to work for 6 days to afford a six-pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of cocoa puffs. In the “real” world, I worked 10 minutes to buy those same items. Buying a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of cocoa puffs is like buying a flat screen television for many of you. In other words, it’s a pretty big purchase and big deal here.
In closing, I’m enjoying my new cube with my new bunking. My cube has a window and my bunkie makes me laugh. It has been much easier doing my time in this cube. That’s it for now.
Jeff
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Know Who You Work For (#43)
The first question I was asked when I started my job as the recreation clerk was, “Who do you work for?” I didn’t know how to respond. I hadn’t thought about it. The other inmate asking the question, seeing the confusion on my face, rephrased, “Do you work for us, or do you work for the guards.” Well, not sane inmate says that they work for the guards. That would not go over well. His question helped me figure some things out.
I had not thought about who I worked for when I watered the plants at my first job here. Another inmate seemed to be my supervisor, but he didn’t like for me to call him that. His only job was to assign inmates to jobs, not to oversee them. That job actually belonged to a guard. It seemed that I worked for both the inmates and the guards and didn’t work for them at the same time. The guards, or at least the institution, paid me. It was only $.12 an hour, but they did pay me. At the same time the inmates were like the customers. They received the benefits of the work. Most inmates could care less about how their job benefits the other inmates. I guess the reality is we worked for ourselves.
Working for yourself is dangerous. You will only work as hard as your ethics and ambition take you. Because there is little reward for an ambitious person in prison, many inmates do the very least they can. I would suggest if this is where you are in your own job, that you consider a different job. You may get paid, even pretty well. You may hate the work you do (a sign of boredom), or your supervisor, or your co-workers, etc. If working for the customers, in other words, providing exceptional customer service both internally and externally, doesn’t do it for you, then you only have two options. You can cleave and get another job that will probably look very similar to what you left, or you can learn to take pride in your work. I would suggest that taking pride in your work is working for yourself, and is the better option.
If you want to show people that you are competent, confident, and trustworthy, then take pride in what you do. Do it well just so that you can leave the job each day and say, “I did my best today.” It’s a lot like a team sport. Your teammates may not play hard and they may not care about their teammates, but if you play your best, then you’ve done your job. You can leave the field or court with pride.
Working in prison is not easy. Many times while I was watering the trees or issuing the recreation equipment (more often than not I was looking all over the yard for stuff that wasn’t returned) I only had my pride in a job well done to get me through.
Another way that I endured a tough job was my belief in God. As a Christian I believe that our actions reflect who we are in relationship to God. I worked hard in part because I was also working for God. In essence, I felt like He was my boss. I didn’t want to let Him down by knowingly doing a poor job. This is part of what gave me pride in my work. It also helped me to accept that other inmates weren’t going to do a good job.
Some inmates take pride in their work without having a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I’m glad that they do. Some Christians don’t take pride in their work and it bothers me. I wish more people, not just inmates, would work hard, show patience, and be slow to anger. For me, I can only accomplish this through my faith in Christ.
Jeff
I had not thought about who I worked for when I watered the plants at my first job here. Another inmate seemed to be my supervisor, but he didn’t like for me to call him that. His only job was to assign inmates to jobs, not to oversee them. That job actually belonged to a guard. It seemed that I worked for both the inmates and the guards and didn’t work for them at the same time. The guards, or at least the institution, paid me. It was only $.12 an hour, but they did pay me. At the same time the inmates were like the customers. They received the benefits of the work. Most inmates could care less about how their job benefits the other inmates. I guess the reality is we worked for ourselves.
Working for yourself is dangerous. You will only work as hard as your ethics and ambition take you. Because there is little reward for an ambitious person in prison, many inmates do the very least they can. I would suggest if this is where you are in your own job, that you consider a different job. You may get paid, even pretty well. You may hate the work you do (a sign of boredom), or your supervisor, or your co-workers, etc. If working for the customers, in other words, providing exceptional customer service both internally and externally, doesn’t do it for you, then you only have two options. You can cleave and get another job that will probably look very similar to what you left, or you can learn to take pride in your work. I would suggest that taking pride in your work is working for yourself, and is the better option.
If you want to show people that you are competent, confident, and trustworthy, then take pride in what you do. Do it well just so that you can leave the job each day and say, “I did my best today.” It’s a lot like a team sport. Your teammates may not play hard and they may not care about their teammates, but if you play your best, then you’ve done your job. You can leave the field or court with pride.
Working in prison is not easy. Many times while I was watering the trees or issuing the recreation equipment (more often than not I was looking all over the yard for stuff that wasn’t returned) I only had my pride in a job well done to get me through.
Another way that I endured a tough job was my belief in God. As a Christian I believe that our actions reflect who we are in relationship to God. I worked hard in part because I was also working for God. In essence, I felt like He was my boss. I didn’t want to let Him down by knowingly doing a poor job. This is part of what gave me pride in my work. It also helped me to accept that other inmates weren’t going to do a good job.
Some inmates take pride in their work without having a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I’m glad that they do. Some Christians don’t take pride in their work and it bothers me. I wish more people, not just inmates, would work hard, show patience, and be slow to anger. For me, I can only accomplish this through my faith in Christ.
Jeff
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Lexicon (#42)
I'm quite a bit behind on the blog updates. I apologize. I'm not sure who is reading these nowadays and people don't write Jeff and comment on them, so I have been busy writing Jeff letters instead of updating. But, I promised Jeff I would update his blog, so I will try to do that. This is a blog that Jeff wanted to put in that doesn't fit in any category. It's a bunch of terms that the prisoners use that he thought were amusing.
Superpathologicalexpialapurgerus (adj.) - a derogatory term to describe a Federal agent.
"The agent on my case testified that I had 10 times the amount of dope that I actually had. He's a superpathologicalexpialapergerus jerk."
Rec (v) - to exercise or play sports
"It's a nice day. Are you going to rec while the weather is nice."
Next Door (n) - the low security prison next to the camp.
"I spent three years next door."
The Bubble (n) - The main control room at the low security prison.
"Before we go out on our crew we have to check in at the bubble."
Visitor (n) - An inmate who has a really short sentence.
"You've only got three months. You're a visitor."
The Hole (n) - Segregated housing unit (synonym - "the Shu")
"You shouldn't take food out of the chow hall. You could go to the hole for that."
Roll Up (v) - When the guards come and pack up you property and roll up your mattress.
"The guards came and rolled up Dave. What did he do to end up in the hole."
Pill Call (n) - The process of getting your medication.
"I have to go to pill call at 5 to get my allergy medicine."
Truck (adj.) - Really bad at sports.
"Did you see him drop that fly ball? He's a truck."
Beast (adj.) - Really good at sports.
"Did you see that shot he made? He's a beast."
Short (adj.) - Having only a few months left on your sentence.
"I just hit my 3 month mark. I'm short."
Waterfront (n) - The living cubicles that are close to the bathroom (synonym - beachfront).
"After my time in the hole they put me on the waterfront."
Beverly Hills (n) - the living cubicles in the back of the dorm with windows.
"It took me 9 months of living on the waterfront, but I finally got to Beverly Hills."
Store (n) - Commissary, the place we can shop for ourselves.
"I bought some chicken at the store because I can't stand eating at the chow hall."
Superpathologicalexpialapurgerus (adj.) - a derogatory term to describe a Federal agent.
"The agent on my case testified that I had 10 times the amount of dope that I actually had. He's a superpathologicalexpialapergerus jerk."
Rec (v) - to exercise or play sports
"It's a nice day. Are you going to rec while the weather is nice."
Next Door (n) - the low security prison next to the camp.
"I spent three years next door."
The Bubble (n) - The main control room at the low security prison.
"Before we go out on our crew we have to check in at the bubble."
Visitor (n) - An inmate who has a really short sentence.
"You've only got three months. You're a visitor."
The Hole (n) - Segregated housing unit (synonym - "the Shu")
"You shouldn't take food out of the chow hall. You could go to the hole for that."
Roll Up (v) - When the guards come and pack up you property and roll up your mattress.
"The guards came and rolled up Dave. What did he do to end up in the hole."
Pill Call (n) - The process of getting your medication.
"I have to go to pill call at 5 to get my allergy medicine."
Truck (adj.) - Really bad at sports.
"Did you see him drop that fly ball? He's a truck."
Beast (adj.) - Really good at sports.
"Did you see that shot he made? He's a beast."
Short (adj.) - Having only a few months left on your sentence.
"I just hit my 3 month mark. I'm short."
Waterfront (n) - The living cubicles that are close to the bathroom (synonym - beachfront).
"After my time in the hole they put me on the waterfront."
Beverly Hills (n) - the living cubicles in the back of the dorm with windows.
"It took me 9 months of living on the waterfront, but I finally got to Beverly Hills."
Store (n) - Commissary, the place we can shop for ourselves.
"I bought some chicken at the store because I can't stand eating at the chow hall."
Retardadorium (n) - The prison camp.
"You meet some odd people at the retardadorium."
Keaster Bunny (n) - someone who smuggles stuff into the prison.
"Where did you get that stuff? What are you, the Keaster Bunny?"
Rack (n, v) - Cubicle or specifically your bed. Also, the act of going to your cube.
"It's count time. Rack it up!"
Skittles (n) - Pills
"I have to go to pill call to get my skittles."
Feed The Warden (v) - Using the restroom.
"Do you have any toilet paper? I have to feed the warden."
Car (n) - A group of guys who cook together.
"Is there going to be a taco car for movie night?"
Driving The Car (v) - The person who is actually cooking.
"Who's driving that taco car on movie night? I want to hitch a ride."
Shot (n) - A disciplinary action.
"I got a shot for gambling."
ITF (n) - Inmate Task Force or an inmate who thinks he's a guard.
"That guy sure talks to the guards a lot. I think he's on the ITF."
Resident Psycho (n) - The strangest person in your dorm.
"That guy might just be the new resident psycho."
Squirrel (v) - To hide contraband.
"I squirreled the weights in the sand by the horseshoe pit."
Day Pass (n) - A 16 hour furlough.
"I finally got my day pass after 18 months here.
Rabbit (v) - To leave the camp without a release (synonym - walk away)
"I heard a guy rabbited last night."
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Make Your Job Work for You (#41)
Make your Job Work for You
I mentioned in a prior blog how at my first job I tended a small rose garden. I could have ignored this garden like most inmates do when assigned jobs, but I chose to make it work for me by learning something that is of interest to my wife. My wife likes to garden, and likes roses. By learning how to grow and tend a rose garden, I became a better husband because I found another way to share in the things my wife enjoys.
Perhaps you are stuck in what seems like a bad job. Making it work for you might be different depending on why you think your job is bad. Does the problem stem from co-workers or management (or both)? Perhaps it is bad because it doesn’t pay well (you are not alone). Perhaps you do not feel challenged or adequately trained. As an inmate, I can still relate to these issue in my prison job, and believe me, I think my co-workers, my pay, my training, and my intellectual opportunities in my prison job by comparison are for worse than most jobs. But, I still think that anyone can make a job work for them, even a lousy prison job.
One thing I regret about my previous jobs is the missed opportunities to learn something new. My first job out of college as a tax accountant provided a plethora of opportunities to learn that I ignored. I remember doing the quarterly payroll and sales tax for a restaurant. Rather than take some time to learn about the restaurant business I simply did the forms I was told to do. It became a rote activity. I took a number from the report and put that number in the computer. I look back at that and think how fascinating it could have been to figure out what that number actually meant to this restaurant, and why it was important. I could have learned something that would have served me well in the future. Two years before I came to prison I had a restaurant as a client for my bookkeeping business. I didn’t keep them very long because that business has some unique aspects to it (liquor licenses for one). I could have done a better job with them if I had made my first job out of college a better learning experience. Instead I viewed it as a dead end, bad job. I was working long hours and only got paid $8.75/hour. Oddly, even the job that ultimately got me in prison was a job where I did try to learn some things, and those helped me start my own bookkeeping business.
My second job at prison was an easy job by prison standards. It was also easy to make the job work for me as well. I was a recreation clerk. I was in charge of issuing equipment to inmates. The best part of the job was that I had a room with a desk to myself. I could write or read without worrying about a sleeping bunkie or taking up someone’s space. I could us the time I had sitting there to achieve personal goals. Because I had to sit there I was able to fill up the time doing things that helped me learn. Of course, the obvious retort is that not everyone just sits at a desk with little responsibility so that they can read all the time. I’ll concede that, but that’s not my point. I know that no one spends 100% of their time at work “working.” Some is spent at lunch, talking on the phone, emailing friends, or just chatting with other employees. I’m not saying don’t do this, I’m just saying that there are snatches of time that we can use to learn on our own. My brother lives in Portland, and during the winter rainy season has decided that he would rather read the Wall St. Journal during his lunch hour than fight the rain going to the local mall to eat for an hour. He eats, but he spends 45 minutes reading, as opposed to 45 minutes going to the mall, waiting in line, finding a table, and then heading back to work. Similarly, use the downtime at your work to read an article in a trade journal, or some other publication you enjoy. I think finding learning activities to do during boring times, or downtime is a good step in making your job work for you.
My current job in the prison is actually a rare job for a prisoner. Out of the 580 or so prisoners here, 15 of us get to leave the camp every weekday and work someplace in town. I found this to be a great job, but I think I have vastly different attitudes about my work than other inmates. True, the out crew does require much more work, and far more strenuous work at that. But, there are benefits that I liked to make the job work for me. First, the church where I go provides us lunch every day. After dreary prison food, having a hamburger, a pizza, or some Chinese takeout makes the work rewarding. Not only that, but the work crew gets to choose what they want. Normally, in prison, you eat what you are served, or you don’t eat. On the outside, if you want a cup of coffee at 6 am, you either have your machine on a time, brew it yourself, or buy a cup. Simple enough. In prison, if you want coffee at 6 am, you have to wait until the chow hall opens, head over there, wait in line, usually for about 20 minutes, then when you get your coffee, it may be sludge. That’s not hyperbole. The coffee here is thick. Anyway, my point is the how I make the out crew work for me.
It is pretty easy to make the out crew work for me. I enjoy the fringe benefits so much and I don’t mind the longer hours and harder work, so it probably is a good job from that perspective, even though my pay is still low, and I get no intellectual stimulation from it. One thing that I did learn from this out crew that I use to my advantage is making the most of my time. I would often work alone. That seems silly, but finding “alone time” at a prison is practically impossible. Yet, on the out crew, there are jobs that you can do by yourself and not see anyone for an hour or more. I use that time to think about things, pray, and just be quiet. The discipline of solitude is something I cherish right now and I’m using my job to get that. So, if you have a job that engages you physically, but not your mind, then use that time to think about something you have read, memorize some verses (I read about a truck driver that did this). Anyway, just think, and you will be surprised at how valuable engaging solitude is, and engaging your mind.
In my next blog, I want to continue the theme of working, and elaborate on a concept I mentioned in an earlier blog, know who you work for.
Jeff
I mentioned in a prior blog how at my first job I tended a small rose garden. I could have ignored this garden like most inmates do when assigned jobs, but I chose to make it work for me by learning something that is of interest to my wife. My wife likes to garden, and likes roses. By learning how to grow and tend a rose garden, I became a better husband because I found another way to share in the things my wife enjoys.
Perhaps you are stuck in what seems like a bad job. Making it work for you might be different depending on why you think your job is bad. Does the problem stem from co-workers or management (or both)? Perhaps it is bad because it doesn’t pay well (you are not alone). Perhaps you do not feel challenged or adequately trained. As an inmate, I can still relate to these issue in my prison job, and believe me, I think my co-workers, my pay, my training, and my intellectual opportunities in my prison job by comparison are for worse than most jobs. But, I still think that anyone can make a job work for them, even a lousy prison job.
One thing I regret about my previous jobs is the missed opportunities to learn something new. My first job out of college as a tax accountant provided a plethora of opportunities to learn that I ignored. I remember doing the quarterly payroll and sales tax for a restaurant. Rather than take some time to learn about the restaurant business I simply did the forms I was told to do. It became a rote activity. I took a number from the report and put that number in the computer. I look back at that and think how fascinating it could have been to figure out what that number actually meant to this restaurant, and why it was important. I could have learned something that would have served me well in the future. Two years before I came to prison I had a restaurant as a client for my bookkeeping business. I didn’t keep them very long because that business has some unique aspects to it (liquor licenses for one). I could have done a better job with them if I had made my first job out of college a better learning experience. Instead I viewed it as a dead end, bad job. I was working long hours and only got paid $8.75/hour. Oddly, even the job that ultimately got me in prison was a job where I did try to learn some things, and those helped me start my own bookkeeping business.
My second job at prison was an easy job by prison standards. It was also easy to make the job work for me as well. I was a recreation clerk. I was in charge of issuing equipment to inmates. The best part of the job was that I had a room with a desk to myself. I could write or read without worrying about a sleeping bunkie or taking up someone’s space. I could us the time I had sitting there to achieve personal goals. Because I had to sit there I was able to fill up the time doing things that helped me learn. Of course, the obvious retort is that not everyone just sits at a desk with little responsibility so that they can read all the time. I’ll concede that, but that’s not my point. I know that no one spends 100% of their time at work “working.” Some is spent at lunch, talking on the phone, emailing friends, or just chatting with other employees. I’m not saying don’t do this, I’m just saying that there are snatches of time that we can use to learn on our own. My brother lives in Portland, and during the winter rainy season has decided that he would rather read the Wall St. Journal during his lunch hour than fight the rain going to the local mall to eat for an hour. He eats, but he spends 45 minutes reading, as opposed to 45 minutes going to the mall, waiting in line, finding a table, and then heading back to work. Similarly, use the downtime at your work to read an article in a trade journal, or some other publication you enjoy. I think finding learning activities to do during boring times, or downtime is a good step in making your job work for you.
My current job in the prison is actually a rare job for a prisoner. Out of the 580 or so prisoners here, 15 of us get to leave the camp every weekday and work someplace in town. I found this to be a great job, but I think I have vastly different attitudes about my work than other inmates. True, the out crew does require much more work, and far more strenuous work at that. But, there are benefits that I liked to make the job work for me. First, the church where I go provides us lunch every day. After dreary prison food, having a hamburger, a pizza, or some Chinese takeout makes the work rewarding. Not only that, but the work crew gets to choose what they want. Normally, in prison, you eat what you are served, or you don’t eat. On the outside, if you want a cup of coffee at 6 am, you either have your machine on a time, brew it yourself, or buy a cup. Simple enough. In prison, if you want coffee at 6 am, you have to wait until the chow hall opens, head over there, wait in line, usually for about 20 minutes, then when you get your coffee, it may be sludge. That’s not hyperbole. The coffee here is thick. Anyway, my point is the how I make the out crew work for me.
It is pretty easy to make the out crew work for me. I enjoy the fringe benefits so much and I don’t mind the longer hours and harder work, so it probably is a good job from that perspective, even though my pay is still low, and I get no intellectual stimulation from it. One thing that I did learn from this out crew that I use to my advantage is making the most of my time. I would often work alone. That seems silly, but finding “alone time” at a prison is practically impossible. Yet, on the out crew, there are jobs that you can do by yourself and not see anyone for an hour or more. I use that time to think about things, pray, and just be quiet. The discipline of solitude is something I cherish right now and I’m using my job to get that. So, if you have a job that engages you physically, but not your mind, then use that time to think about something you have read, memorize some verses (I read about a truck driver that did this). Anyway, just think, and you will be surprised at how valuable engaging solitude is, and engaging your mind.
In my next blog, I want to continue the theme of working, and elaborate on a concept I mentioned in an earlier blog, know who you work for.
Jeff
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Crappy Job (#40)
So You Have a Crappy Job
I had a bad job. Well, I thought it was bad. I got paid well, and not a lot was expected of me, but I wanted more. I wanted a better title, more money, and ultimately, more authority to make decisions. I couldn’t be content with what I had. This was the gateway, the starting point, to my actions that ended in a 3-year prison sentence. I thought I had a crappy job, but I would give anything to have that job back now, considering where I am. Perhaps I can shed some light on some of the things I learned about wanting more in my job and being content with what I have been given.
All prisons expect their inmates to work (at least all Federal prisons do – barring some high security or other extenuating factors). I’ve written about my various jobs in prison, and I still find it to be one of the most interesting situations I have ever experienced. I work for the institution, but it’s the taxpayers who ultimately pay my wages (which would be criminal if I got paid this on the outside, 12 cents an hour). You are supervised by a guard. Yet, in most prison jobs, you will not interact with anyone from the institution. As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, the inmates are your actual customers, and as anyone knows, you really work for the customer. Your customers, while not in direct contact with you, get angry if they have dirty bathroom, poor food, etc. But, in prison, the customers don’t pay for anything. If you can recall back to your basic economics class, the prison is like a communistic economy. Each prisoner should work their best and hardest because the common benefit is the reward, not wages or private ownership. If everyone worked hard, then the food would be better, the restrooms cleaner, the grounds tidier, etc. But, as sinful people, we don’t think like that. The prisoners think, "what kind of effort should I give for 12 cents an hour?" As a result, you get an effort that is the product of 12 cents an hour or what takes the least amount of effort).
When I was a supervisor, one of the most common complaints was about the employee’s level of pay. The management’s response was always find another way to motivate them beyond their pay. The reality is you have to motivate yourself. Even if you have a bad job, finding a new job probably won’t solve the problem. You have to learn to find the positives about the job. Do the job you have and do it well regardless of who is looking or if you are rewarded. Take pride in what you do. I look at this like I would look at dating or self-esteem. If you like who you are, if you are confident in who you are, it will be noticeable. The same is true with your job. You don’t have to necessarily like data entry or like cooking French fries, but by doing it well you can be proud of what you did. If you adopt this attitude people will notice. You can’t do it to be noticed though. You have to just do your job well for the simple reason that you want to take pride in doing your job well.
Finding the right job in prison was important. However, the right job depended largely on what you wanted to do with all the time. There are jobs in prison that take 30 minutes a day. There are jobs that take 3-4 hours. There are jobs that may require you to be up all night and there are jobs that require you to get up at 4am. There are disgusting jobs like cleaning toilets, hauling trash, or washing 500 dishes. There are easy jobs like dusting phones or mopping a small room. There are challenging jobs that require specialized skills. There are even jobs that allow you to leave the prison. It’s important for an inmate to find a job that works with the inmate’s personal objectives. This is true on the outside as well. I’m not saying that you need to change jobs. But, try to make your job work for you. Develop a skill set through your job that can help you be a better person, or a more efficient worker.
Let me give you some examples of my jobs in prison and how I made them work for me. Inmates are assigned their first job by the institution. My first job was as a recreation orderly. After 3 or 4 months, an inmate can change jobs to something they might like better. As a recreation orderly, I was responsible for weeding, watering, and picking up trash in a certain area of the recreation yard. This was not my ideal job. I was supposed to work from 8 – 10 am and then again from 12 – 2 pm. Now this job didn't take four hours, and many inmates made it take an hour or less. Fortunately, the rec jobs do not have a guard who is constantly monitoring the inmate’s every move, so you could do your job in 30 minutes or you could take more time. I figured this job would take about 2 1/2 hours to do well. So, I made it work. I went to an exercise class from 8 – 9 am and then after already getting sweaty, I would proceed to do my weeding work from 9 – 10.
When I came back out at noon, I would water the plants while I walked the track. I also brought out books to read or wrote letters. I could read while I picked up trash. I made the job fit with what I wanted to accomplish while still doing my job and doing it well (this based on the fact that no one else weeded and rarely did anyone pick up trash). Did I do this to be noticed? No, I wanted to look at my work each day and say, “The rose garden looks good.” I got to enjoy the rose garden because I worked on it. I know other guys appreciated it too, but that wasn’t why I did it. It was an unintended benefit to them. The job itself was not difficult, but I tried to do it well, and better myself while doing it.
I made this job work for me by getting exercise, writing, reading, and enjoying the rose garden. My family and in-laws are gardeners. Even if I only had time to work on the rose garden, I would have made the job work for me because I would have learned something that would have helped me relate to my wife and in-laws. I would have become a better husband simply by learning something about gardening. Most guys in prison wouldn’t view their job as a way to become a better husband and probably many of you don’t look at your job as a way of learning something that can make you a better person. I’m not necessarily talking about the actual skills you need to do your job. I’m talking about other skills you can learn from your job.
Jeff
I had a bad job. Well, I thought it was bad. I got paid well, and not a lot was expected of me, but I wanted more. I wanted a better title, more money, and ultimately, more authority to make decisions. I couldn’t be content with what I had. This was the gateway, the starting point, to my actions that ended in a 3-year prison sentence. I thought I had a crappy job, but I would give anything to have that job back now, considering where I am. Perhaps I can shed some light on some of the things I learned about wanting more in my job and being content with what I have been given.
All prisons expect their inmates to work (at least all Federal prisons do – barring some high security or other extenuating factors). I’ve written about my various jobs in prison, and I still find it to be one of the most interesting situations I have ever experienced. I work for the institution, but it’s the taxpayers who ultimately pay my wages (which would be criminal if I got paid this on the outside, 12 cents an hour). You are supervised by a guard. Yet, in most prison jobs, you will not interact with anyone from the institution. As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, the inmates are your actual customers, and as anyone knows, you really work for the customer. Your customers, while not in direct contact with you, get angry if they have dirty bathroom, poor food, etc. But, in prison, the customers don’t pay for anything. If you can recall back to your basic economics class, the prison is like a communistic economy. Each prisoner should work their best and hardest because the common benefit is the reward, not wages or private ownership. If everyone worked hard, then the food would be better, the restrooms cleaner, the grounds tidier, etc. But, as sinful people, we don’t think like that. The prisoners think, "what kind of effort should I give for 12 cents an hour?" As a result, you get an effort that is the product of 12 cents an hour or what takes the least amount of effort).
When I was a supervisor, one of the most common complaints was about the employee’s level of pay. The management’s response was always find another way to motivate them beyond their pay. The reality is you have to motivate yourself. Even if you have a bad job, finding a new job probably won’t solve the problem. You have to learn to find the positives about the job. Do the job you have and do it well regardless of who is looking or if you are rewarded. Take pride in what you do. I look at this like I would look at dating or self-esteem. If you like who you are, if you are confident in who you are, it will be noticeable. The same is true with your job. You don’t have to necessarily like data entry or like cooking French fries, but by doing it well you can be proud of what you did. If you adopt this attitude people will notice. You can’t do it to be noticed though. You have to just do your job well for the simple reason that you want to take pride in doing your job well.
Finding the right job in prison was important. However, the right job depended largely on what you wanted to do with all the time. There are jobs in prison that take 30 minutes a day. There are jobs that take 3-4 hours. There are jobs that may require you to be up all night and there are jobs that require you to get up at 4am. There are disgusting jobs like cleaning toilets, hauling trash, or washing 500 dishes. There are easy jobs like dusting phones or mopping a small room. There are challenging jobs that require specialized skills. There are even jobs that allow you to leave the prison. It’s important for an inmate to find a job that works with the inmate’s personal objectives. This is true on the outside as well. I’m not saying that you need to change jobs. But, try to make your job work for you. Develop a skill set through your job that can help you be a better person, or a more efficient worker.
Let me give you some examples of my jobs in prison and how I made them work for me. Inmates are assigned their first job by the institution. My first job was as a recreation orderly. After 3 or 4 months, an inmate can change jobs to something they might like better. As a recreation orderly, I was responsible for weeding, watering, and picking up trash in a certain area of the recreation yard. This was not my ideal job. I was supposed to work from 8 – 10 am and then again from 12 – 2 pm. Now this job didn't take four hours, and many inmates made it take an hour or less. Fortunately, the rec jobs do not have a guard who is constantly monitoring the inmate’s every move, so you could do your job in 30 minutes or you could take more time. I figured this job would take about 2 1/2 hours to do well. So, I made it work. I went to an exercise class from 8 – 9 am and then after already getting sweaty, I would proceed to do my weeding work from 9 – 10.
When I came back out at noon, I would water the plants while I walked the track. I also brought out books to read or wrote letters. I could read while I picked up trash. I made the job fit with what I wanted to accomplish while still doing my job and doing it well (this based on the fact that no one else weeded and rarely did anyone pick up trash). Did I do this to be noticed? No, I wanted to look at my work each day and say, “The rose garden looks good.” I got to enjoy the rose garden because I worked on it. I know other guys appreciated it too, but that wasn’t why I did it. It was an unintended benefit to them. The job itself was not difficult, but I tried to do it well, and better myself while doing it.
I made this job work for me by getting exercise, writing, reading, and enjoying the rose garden. My family and in-laws are gardeners. Even if I only had time to work on the rose garden, I would have made the job work for me because I would have learned something that would have helped me relate to my wife and in-laws. I would have become a better husband simply by learning something about gardening. Most guys in prison wouldn’t view their job as a way to become a better husband and probably many of you don’t look at your job as a way of learning something that can make you a better person. I’m not necessarily talking about the actual skills you need to do your job. I’m talking about other skills you can learn from your job.
Jeff
Monday, May 19, 2008
Quarterly Update (#39)
This is about a month old now. I'm a bit behind on the updates- Scott.
This past Sunday (April 13th) marked my 1-year anniversary in prison. I had strange feelings as I approached my anniversary. Until now, everything was still new. I had not spent an Easter in prison until this past March. What would that be like? What would the weather be like in March (the winter wasn’t too bad). When will the trees turn green again? These questions seem mundane, but in a place where very little changes from day to day, change, in any form, helps one cope. As I started to see things that were the same from last year after I had just arrived, that sense of change and newness left. I could no longer say, “tomorrow will bring something new.” I know look at the calendar and say, “I know what April will look like.” This kind of made me depressed, because the newness of things helps the time pass. The mundane unchanging elements make the stay here feel as though time is slowing or stopped. As much as the routine gets you through the day (if you keep busy), it’s the little changes that keep you sane. It reminds me of that saying about how change is the spice of life. Every so often you need change to keep things interesting.
The other thing that I noticed as I approached my anniversary is that everyone pointed out that I had been here for 1 year. Probably the one thing every inmate does is track how much time they have served and how much time they have left. I’ve calculated the number of weeks I have left, the exact date that represents my halfway point, and just about every possible milestone you can imagine regarding my stay in Taft.
I’ve been fortunate that I’ve had some small changes since my last quarterly update. I’ve had some big changes too, although you don’t always want that. My last quarterly update – based on my 9 months here, was January 13. Since then, one of the biggest changes that has been both sweet and sour was my dad’s arrival to the Taft Camp. I’m happy that there is a friendly face, but it’s never fun to see a family member go through what I’ve been through or taken away from family and friends. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. My dad had one of the more difficult 3-4 weeks after arrival of anyone I know here. A few days after he got here, his brother (my uncle) passed away suddenly. My uncle was sick and in the hospital before my dad arrived, and my dad was able to visit before he reported to Taft, but no one, not even the doctors, thought his illness was life threatening. That was pretty hard on my dad. It left his mom without any help. I was really sad for my dad, because the first month or so, prison is a hard enough adjustment, but my dad had the weight of his mom and her care on his mind, not to mention the grieving of his brother to deal with. I was able to get my dad moved into my dorm. That was good. In that same week, we had a shakedown. A shakedown is when the guards come through the dorms looking for contraband. In this instance, they were looking for people with extra blankets, pillows, cardboard, etc. in their lockers. It was not a very serious shakedown, but it was my first experience with (and this after almost 9 months) that and I know my dad was nervous. In your first week, everything seems crazy, and a shakedown just adds to the stress.
I have been able to help my dad get adjusted. I’ve tried to spend some time with him walking, but because of my job, I’m away from the camp most of the day. We do eat breakfast and lunch together on the weekend and I do manage to spend some time with him every day mainly to catch up on things.
I’m still working on the “out crew.” Working with inmates poses some interesting challenges (of which I will write soon), but I enjoy the work. I find that it prepares me mentally to be back in the workplace. Oddly, you adjust to working a couple of hours a day. When you go back to a regular 8 hour job schedule, it’s a shock. On the out crew I work about six hours a day. So, not only does it help pass the time, but I am getting used to working a normal work day schedule. I work on the out crew 5 days a week, so it makes the weekends feel like weekends. I think that is one of the things I enjoy most, that the weeks are separated by work and then rest. That didn’t happen in here with my previous job.
There was a small change to the out crew schedule that I really enjoyed. One day we went to the mountains to clean a camp that the church runs. The change of scenery was uplifting. We actually saw and walked in snow. We were surrounded by pine trees. This is a drastic change from the Taft landscape and welcome one in my opinion. I hope that I will get to go the camp again before my next update.
Another small change that is helping me stay sane is my recent move to another cubicle and a new bunkie. I’m pleased to announce that I have a window in my new cubicle. My window faces East and I have already enjoyed numerous sunrises. I write most of my letters by the sunrise light. The window also faces a grove a trees that the Native Americans at the camp use as their meeting place. Most of the time the grove of trees is devoid of inmates, so I get to enjoy a somewhat more scenic view than the arid dirt that makes up Taft.
I’ve started and almost completed another soccer season. I’m not enjoying my soccer as much as I did before. I find that people are extremely critical, and I get too competitive. Not to mention that I’m older than most of the guys, and my body can’t take the beating like it could when I was 20 or 25. It’s not a positive or enjoyable environment when you are injured all the time and other players can’t understand why you are not playing. I do like the exercise and the game, but the chronic injuries are not worth the trouble right now. Before I play in another league, I plan on taking a break and allowing my body to recover from the myriad of injuries.
I have also had a couple of opportunities to speak in church. I had wanted to do this when I first arrived, but I don’t feel that way now. I think that we have many people here with gifts for teaching, and I’m not one of them. Being on the out crew does not afford me the time to prepare the talks as well as I would like. That makes me anxious and I think the men deserve and can get better. At this point, I doubt I will pursue opportunities to speak. Maybe when I get out I will look into that, but at this point, I don’t feel like that is what God wants me to do.
Please pray for my relationship with my dad. I want to develop a stronger friendship with him. That’s my priority right now.
Thanks for all of your letters, prayer, and support. I’m doing fairly well all things considered. I hpe that by the next update I can write to you about a furlough. But maybe not until the Fall.
Jeff
This past Sunday (April 13th) marked my 1-year anniversary in prison. I had strange feelings as I approached my anniversary. Until now, everything was still new. I had not spent an Easter in prison until this past March. What would that be like? What would the weather be like in March (the winter wasn’t too bad). When will the trees turn green again? These questions seem mundane, but in a place where very little changes from day to day, change, in any form, helps one cope. As I started to see things that were the same from last year after I had just arrived, that sense of change and newness left. I could no longer say, “tomorrow will bring something new.” I know look at the calendar and say, “I know what April will look like.” This kind of made me depressed, because the newness of things helps the time pass. The mundane unchanging elements make the stay here feel as though time is slowing or stopped. As much as the routine gets you through the day (if you keep busy), it’s the little changes that keep you sane. It reminds me of that saying about how change is the spice of life. Every so often you need change to keep things interesting.
The other thing that I noticed as I approached my anniversary is that everyone pointed out that I had been here for 1 year. Probably the one thing every inmate does is track how much time they have served and how much time they have left. I’ve calculated the number of weeks I have left, the exact date that represents my halfway point, and just about every possible milestone you can imagine regarding my stay in Taft.
I’ve been fortunate that I’ve had some small changes since my last quarterly update. I’ve had some big changes too, although you don’t always want that. My last quarterly update – based on my 9 months here, was January 13. Since then, one of the biggest changes that has been both sweet and sour was my dad’s arrival to the Taft Camp. I’m happy that there is a friendly face, but it’s never fun to see a family member go through what I’ve been through or taken away from family and friends. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. My dad had one of the more difficult 3-4 weeks after arrival of anyone I know here. A few days after he got here, his brother (my uncle) passed away suddenly. My uncle was sick and in the hospital before my dad arrived, and my dad was able to visit before he reported to Taft, but no one, not even the doctors, thought his illness was life threatening. That was pretty hard on my dad. It left his mom without any help. I was really sad for my dad, because the first month or so, prison is a hard enough adjustment, but my dad had the weight of his mom and her care on his mind, not to mention the grieving of his brother to deal with. I was able to get my dad moved into my dorm. That was good. In that same week, we had a shakedown. A shakedown is when the guards come through the dorms looking for contraband. In this instance, they were looking for people with extra blankets, pillows, cardboard, etc. in their lockers. It was not a very serious shakedown, but it was my first experience with (and this after almost 9 months) that and I know my dad was nervous. In your first week, everything seems crazy, and a shakedown just adds to the stress.
I have been able to help my dad get adjusted. I’ve tried to spend some time with him walking, but because of my job, I’m away from the camp most of the day. We do eat breakfast and lunch together on the weekend and I do manage to spend some time with him every day mainly to catch up on things.
I’m still working on the “out crew.” Working with inmates poses some interesting challenges (of which I will write soon), but I enjoy the work. I find that it prepares me mentally to be back in the workplace. Oddly, you adjust to working a couple of hours a day. When you go back to a regular 8 hour job schedule, it’s a shock. On the out crew I work about six hours a day. So, not only does it help pass the time, but I am getting used to working a normal work day schedule. I work on the out crew 5 days a week, so it makes the weekends feel like weekends. I think that is one of the things I enjoy most, that the weeks are separated by work and then rest. That didn’t happen in here with my previous job.
There was a small change to the out crew schedule that I really enjoyed. One day we went to the mountains to clean a camp that the church runs. The change of scenery was uplifting. We actually saw and walked in snow. We were surrounded by pine trees. This is a drastic change from the Taft landscape and welcome one in my opinion. I hope that I will get to go the camp again before my next update.
Another small change that is helping me stay sane is my recent move to another cubicle and a new bunkie. I’m pleased to announce that I have a window in my new cubicle. My window faces East and I have already enjoyed numerous sunrises. I write most of my letters by the sunrise light. The window also faces a grove a trees that the Native Americans at the camp use as their meeting place. Most of the time the grove of trees is devoid of inmates, so I get to enjoy a somewhat more scenic view than the arid dirt that makes up Taft.
I’ve started and almost completed another soccer season. I’m not enjoying my soccer as much as I did before. I find that people are extremely critical, and I get too competitive. Not to mention that I’m older than most of the guys, and my body can’t take the beating like it could when I was 20 or 25. It’s not a positive or enjoyable environment when you are injured all the time and other players can’t understand why you are not playing. I do like the exercise and the game, but the chronic injuries are not worth the trouble right now. Before I play in another league, I plan on taking a break and allowing my body to recover from the myriad of injuries.
I have also had a couple of opportunities to speak in church. I had wanted to do this when I first arrived, but I don’t feel that way now. I think that we have many people here with gifts for teaching, and I’m not one of them. Being on the out crew does not afford me the time to prepare the talks as well as I would like. That makes me anxious and I think the men deserve and can get better. At this point, I doubt I will pursue opportunities to speak. Maybe when I get out I will look into that, but at this point, I don’t feel like that is what God wants me to do.
Please pray for my relationship with my dad. I want to develop a stronger friendship with him. That’s my priority right now.
Thanks for all of your letters, prayer, and support. I’m doing fairly well all things considered. I hpe that by the next update I can write to you about a furlough. But maybe not until the Fall.
Jeff
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Don't be a Rat (#38)
Jeff just finished his first year at Taft Prison Camp on April 13th. He is sending a quarterly update soon. Here is his latest blog
I’m kind of jumping around a bit in my entries. In a previous blog, I wrote about how the little things matter. That principle pervades all of prison life. I want to comment on one aspect of that principle specifically as it applies to prison living (I guess among criminals in general). That is, don’t be a rat. Being stigmatized as a “rat” in prison is not the way you want to spend your time. In fact, whether justified or not, being labeled a rate is about the worst way to go through prison.
How does one define a rat, or get the label of rat? This starts with the details of your case. The assumption is that if you accepted a plea bargain, then you agreed to testify against someone or did actually provide information against someone to lessen your own sentence. This seems to be most true of drug cases, which are an extraordinarily high percentage of all the federal cases, well over 75%. In cases like mine, white collar crime, accepting a plea bargain does not necessarily mean you testified against someone, or volunteered information. In fact, the government would rather have a plea bargain in white collar crime because the cases are often far more complex than drug cases. The prosecutors don’t have time to delve into the intricacies of the general business transaction that led to the indictment much less proving that actions were criminal. It is much easier to have the indicted just accepted a plea bargain and save everyone a lengthy and complicated trial. Fortunately, at a prison camp, you can find many more white collar criminals than in higher levels of prison. So, a white collar criminal is not automatically assumed to be a rat because of accepting a plea offer (as I did).
At my camp (and I assume in all prisons), the inmates are watched closely by other inmates to see what kind of person the inmate is. The dumbest thing an inmate can do is write a negative note to the prison staff about another inmate or group of inmates. This is called writing a “cop out.” You write “cop outs” for all kinds of complaints, from food to lack of heat. However, if you write too many “cop outs” other inmates will assume that some are complaints about your inmate peers. One of the most frequent “cop out” complaints is when an inmate is offended by a movie and complains about it. Too many of these and the staff stops showing movies, which in turn, irritates the inmates.
Another example that hits me closely involves a group of inmates who live in bunks in the back corner of the dorm, also where I happen to bunk. These guys have decided to have all the lights out in this corner by 9 pm. This is fine, except that the prison does not require lights to be out until 10 pm. Technically the inmates have no authority to do this or enforce it. I could write a “cop out” complaining about it, but what would that accomplish? I would be labeled as a rat. I could leave my light on and get the ire of the other guys too. Not much better. The solution I arrived at was to be flexible and live with the early lights out. It’s not a big problem and there are worse things I could worry about. By not complaining, my reputation as a guy who can “get along” increases. Like I said, you are always being watched and evaluated. The other inmates want to know what kind of person you are, and because of the small living areas, it doesn’t take long for them to figure it out if you do something to earn their distrust.
There are legitimate “rats” here. Some guys do get benefits by helping the guards and counselors find contraband. In a situation where weapons are drugs are involved, I’m not sure I mind having an insider around. Those things can threaten my safety. Despite the constant accusations though, I cannot say for certain whether I know who is an insider. The most blatant thing I’ve seen that would cause concern is a guy who has been accused of being a rat by numerous people took cuts in line in plain view of 4 guards whose job was to watch for people taking cuts. They caught several people that day, at least 5 while I was waiting in line. They did nothing to this particular guy. There are probably numerous explanations for this and it doesn’t confirm that he’s a rat, but for the first time, I was suspicious of someone.
There is one situation where I have no problem being a rat. This is when one inmate is trying to cheat another inmate. In higher security institutions, you would still not be a rat in this situation. You would stick with your group. In a camp, you don’t really have a group. You just try to stay out of trouble. Well, if I know a guy who is getting cheated, and I know both parties, I generally bring it up. This might make me disliked by the guy trying to cheat the other, but the guy who was getting cheated feels like he can trust me. Again, you are always being evaluated. The guy trying to cheat people will establish a bad reputation. I don’t want to earn his trust by keeping quiet. I don’t want to be “in” with a cheater. I would rather establish a reputation as a guy who is fair. I think that my reputation has helped with guys that I don’t know. If someone thinks I’m trying to do something to them that is cheating, hustling or whatever, most of the time they will ask around. Most guys know that I give when I can, help out when I can, and repay what I borrow. They know I’m a Christian and that I try to live to those standards. When another inmate vouches for you and who your are, you have achieved a very noble compliment. I’m proud that I have established an honest and fair reputation in a place where everyone failed in these circumstances at some point.
Jeff
I’m kind of jumping around a bit in my entries. In a previous blog, I wrote about how the little things matter. That principle pervades all of prison life. I want to comment on one aspect of that principle specifically as it applies to prison living (I guess among criminals in general). That is, don’t be a rat. Being stigmatized as a “rat” in prison is not the way you want to spend your time. In fact, whether justified or not, being labeled a rate is about the worst way to go through prison.
How does one define a rat, or get the label of rat? This starts with the details of your case. The assumption is that if you accepted a plea bargain, then you agreed to testify against someone or did actually provide information against someone to lessen your own sentence. This seems to be most true of drug cases, which are an extraordinarily high percentage of all the federal cases, well over 75%. In cases like mine, white collar crime, accepting a plea bargain does not necessarily mean you testified against someone, or volunteered information. In fact, the government would rather have a plea bargain in white collar crime because the cases are often far more complex than drug cases. The prosecutors don’t have time to delve into the intricacies of the general business transaction that led to the indictment much less proving that actions were criminal. It is much easier to have the indicted just accepted a plea bargain and save everyone a lengthy and complicated trial. Fortunately, at a prison camp, you can find many more white collar criminals than in higher levels of prison. So, a white collar criminal is not automatically assumed to be a rat because of accepting a plea offer (as I did).
At my camp (and I assume in all prisons), the inmates are watched closely by other inmates to see what kind of person the inmate is. The dumbest thing an inmate can do is write a negative note to the prison staff about another inmate or group of inmates. This is called writing a “cop out.” You write “cop outs” for all kinds of complaints, from food to lack of heat. However, if you write too many “cop outs” other inmates will assume that some are complaints about your inmate peers. One of the most frequent “cop out” complaints is when an inmate is offended by a movie and complains about it. Too many of these and the staff stops showing movies, which in turn, irritates the inmates.
Another example that hits me closely involves a group of inmates who live in bunks in the back corner of the dorm, also where I happen to bunk. These guys have decided to have all the lights out in this corner by 9 pm. This is fine, except that the prison does not require lights to be out until 10 pm. Technically the inmates have no authority to do this or enforce it. I could write a “cop out” complaining about it, but what would that accomplish? I would be labeled as a rat. I could leave my light on and get the ire of the other guys too. Not much better. The solution I arrived at was to be flexible and live with the early lights out. It’s not a big problem and there are worse things I could worry about. By not complaining, my reputation as a guy who can “get along” increases. Like I said, you are always being watched and evaluated. The other inmates want to know what kind of person you are, and because of the small living areas, it doesn’t take long for them to figure it out if you do something to earn their distrust.
There are legitimate “rats” here. Some guys do get benefits by helping the guards and counselors find contraband. In a situation where weapons are drugs are involved, I’m not sure I mind having an insider around. Those things can threaten my safety. Despite the constant accusations though, I cannot say for certain whether I know who is an insider. The most blatant thing I’ve seen that would cause concern is a guy who has been accused of being a rat by numerous people took cuts in line in plain view of 4 guards whose job was to watch for people taking cuts. They caught several people that day, at least 5 while I was waiting in line. They did nothing to this particular guy. There are probably numerous explanations for this and it doesn’t confirm that he’s a rat, but for the first time, I was suspicious of someone.
There is one situation where I have no problem being a rat. This is when one inmate is trying to cheat another inmate. In higher security institutions, you would still not be a rat in this situation. You would stick with your group. In a camp, you don’t really have a group. You just try to stay out of trouble. Well, if I know a guy who is getting cheated, and I know both parties, I generally bring it up. This might make me disliked by the guy trying to cheat the other, but the guy who was getting cheated feels like he can trust me. Again, you are always being evaluated. The guy trying to cheat people will establish a bad reputation. I don’t want to earn his trust by keeping quiet. I don’t want to be “in” with a cheater. I would rather establish a reputation as a guy who is fair. I think that my reputation has helped with guys that I don’t know. If someone thinks I’m trying to do something to them that is cheating, hustling or whatever, most of the time they will ask around. Most guys know that I give when I can, help out when I can, and repay what I borrow. They know I’m a Christian and that I try to live to those standards. When another inmate vouches for you and who your are, you have achieved a very noble compliment. I’m proud that I have established an honest and fair reputation in a place where everyone failed in these circumstances at some point.
Jeff
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Working in Prison (#37)
I’ve gone over rules about living with other inmates and some rules that the institution imposes. There are even more rules for when you work with other inmates. Quite frankly, working with inmates stinks. It reminds me of the television show Survivor. I remember from watching Survivor that generally, in the first few episodes, anyone who tried to be a leader, or to organize the group was usually sent off quickly. Some comments would be, “who did he think he was telling me to do this or that”, or “she thinks she’s better than everyone”, etc. The players didn’t want leaders who were efficient and who would delegate tasks, mainly they didn’t want other people to tell them what to do, when to do it, or how to do it. The players wanted to do their own thing. This is what happens in prison with inmates and work. Very few inmates will actually listen to another inmate, much less do what he suggests when it comes to doing work. It’s an inmate rule. Never tell another inmate how to do his job. This makes working with inmates difficult. I currently work on an “out crew.” I go out to a church in the community and work at the church doing various odd tasks like gardening, cleaning, and set up and tear down for special events. We don’t have any guards with us when we work. Rather, we are supervised by someone from the church. On occasion our supervisor will not be prepared with work details, and instead just says find something to do. Well, there is always something that needs work, so it shouldn’t be a difficult task. However, an inmate cannot tell another inmate what to do, so the directive essentially becomes, sit around and do nothing until I catch you. I made the mistake once of telling an inmate what a good project would be, because I thought we were a team. The supervisor had told us some jobs that needed to be done, and I suggested that one inmate do one part, and I do the other. My suggestion bothered the other inmate. I later discovered that all the other guys on my crew didn’t want to be in a position to tell the other guys what to do. They all felt like that was the supervisor’s job. So much for the team. I’ll help the team out only if that’s what I’m told to do.
In order to adapt to this work environment, I have a couple of personal rules that I follow. First, I do my job, and I try to do it well. I can’t complain about how other people do their job (or don’t do it) if I don’t do my own job. Some inmates don’t do their jobs. I’m not saying that they just do poor work or don’t work hard, but really, some inmates don’t even show up for work. It’s and important rule for me not only to show up, but to do my job as best I can.
Another rule that I follow is “figure out who you work for.” This is different from figuring out why you work. Knowing who you work for is important. In one of my jobs at prison I was asked by an inmate, “do you work for us or for the guards?” Of course I said, “For us.” But, I had to think about that. I didn’t really know what he meant. I got paid by the prison and a guard supervised the department, but did that mean I worked for them? The inmates are the customers here, and my job was to issue recreational equipment to other inmates. To do this, had to collect their card and hold it until the inmate returned the equipment. I later learned that inmates are not supposed to give their cards to other inmates. This posed a problem. By following one directive, I would be disobeying another. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was working for the customers. I had to find a way to not take their cards, but to track who took what equipment. That’s easy enough. I just made a list of people who used the equipment on my shift. This way I was doing my job and working for the people who needed the service.
This rule is a little different on my out crew. I still get paid by the prison, but I work for the church. Who is the customer? Since the church receives my services, then I work for the church. We have a supervisor at work, but she answers to the pastor. So, I ultimately work for the pastor. My supervisor is more like a part of the team. I work hard so that she and the rest of my team look good to the pastor.
Another rule I try to follow is to take pride in my work regardless of who is watching. I’m able to do this because I want to be faithful in the smallest things. I know that God is watching me and that I am pleasing him and obeying him when I work hard and do my best just because of who I am. I didn’t always view work this way. When I was an employee, I didn’t particularly care about the company for whom I worked, and I cut corners all the time. I wasn’t so concerned about the work I was producing. I was doing enough to get by. Some people will work hard to get noticed and when they don’t then they do just enough. That was me. I’ve learned in prison what you have to do your best work regardless of who notices. Nobody notices work in prison. You will never hear a guard say, “that’s excellent work.” In fact, most guys don’t do excellent work, or efficient work because they don’t want to be given harder or more work later. They view that as working too hard for nothing.
The guards, staff, and inmates don’t care about your work. There is no corporate ladder, or reward, or incentive. You either work hard and do a good job because you have integrity and you care about those around you or you don’t. If you are lucky you may find that someone does care. It’s rare, but a few people will notice and you will have earned their respect. The respect comes from the integrity and not the expectation of reward. As I said, if you work here expecting a reward, you won’t receive one, and will get frustrated. You don’t get rewarded in prison. You have to decide, do you work hard because you want to or do you work enough to just get by.
Jeff
In order to adapt to this work environment, I have a couple of personal rules that I follow. First, I do my job, and I try to do it well. I can’t complain about how other people do their job (or don’t do it) if I don’t do my own job. Some inmates don’t do their jobs. I’m not saying that they just do poor work or don’t work hard, but really, some inmates don’t even show up for work. It’s and important rule for me not only to show up, but to do my job as best I can.
Another rule that I follow is “figure out who you work for.” This is different from figuring out why you work. Knowing who you work for is important. In one of my jobs at prison I was asked by an inmate, “do you work for us or for the guards?” Of course I said, “For us.” But, I had to think about that. I didn’t really know what he meant. I got paid by the prison and a guard supervised the department, but did that mean I worked for them? The inmates are the customers here, and my job was to issue recreational equipment to other inmates. To do this, had to collect their card and hold it until the inmate returned the equipment. I later learned that inmates are not supposed to give their cards to other inmates. This posed a problem. By following one directive, I would be disobeying another. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was working for the customers. I had to find a way to not take their cards, but to track who took what equipment. That’s easy enough. I just made a list of people who used the equipment on my shift. This way I was doing my job and working for the people who needed the service.
This rule is a little different on my out crew. I still get paid by the prison, but I work for the church. Who is the customer? Since the church receives my services, then I work for the church. We have a supervisor at work, but she answers to the pastor. So, I ultimately work for the pastor. My supervisor is more like a part of the team. I work hard so that she and the rest of my team look good to the pastor.
Another rule I try to follow is to take pride in my work regardless of who is watching. I’m able to do this because I want to be faithful in the smallest things. I know that God is watching me and that I am pleasing him and obeying him when I work hard and do my best just because of who I am. I didn’t always view work this way. When I was an employee, I didn’t particularly care about the company for whom I worked, and I cut corners all the time. I wasn’t so concerned about the work I was producing. I was doing enough to get by. Some people will work hard to get noticed and when they don’t then they do just enough. That was me. I’ve learned in prison what you have to do your best work regardless of who notices. Nobody notices work in prison. You will never hear a guard say, “that’s excellent work.” In fact, most guys don’t do excellent work, or efficient work because they don’t want to be given harder or more work later. They view that as working too hard for nothing.
The guards, staff, and inmates don’t care about your work. There is no corporate ladder, or reward, or incentive. You either work hard and do a good job because you have integrity and you care about those around you or you don’t. If you are lucky you may find that someone does care. It’s rare, but a few people will notice and you will have earned their respect. The respect comes from the integrity and not the expectation of reward. As I said, if you work here expecting a reward, you won’t receive one, and will get frustrated. You don’t get rewarded in prison. You have to decide, do you work hard because you want to or do you work enough to just get by.
Jeff
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Institution Rules (#36)
Just as inmates have their little, seemingly insignificant rules, but actually very important rules, so the institution here at Taft has it’s own little rules that a man ignores at his own peril. If breached, one finds out quickly that there are consequences for the slightest infraction.
I had probably been at the camp for about a month when I discovered the severe consequence of not following a little institution rule. The rule, which I knew about from one of my first days here, is that an inmate must have his shirt tucked into his pants from 8 am to 4 pm (the prison’s operating or business hours). I had been working in the Rec. yard and was getting hot (Taft is pretty warm, and this was in May). I went back to the dorm to change. I was in a hurry and forgot to tuck in my shirt on my way back out. I probably took 15 steps out of the door before I remembered that I hadn’t tucked in my shirt. A guard was coming toward me and noticed my un-tucked shirt and accosted me about the infraction. The guard asked me for my card. I told him my card was in my locker. I was quite fortunate that I had left my ID card in my locker because he let me go without incident. Ironically, another rule, which I have a difficult time remembering, is to keep your ID card with you at all times. So, somehow I got away with violating one rule by violating another. That’s the way prison is sometimes: nonsensical.
Usually the punishment for not tucking in your shirt is extra work duty. The idea of extra duty is humorous because if every inmate did his job you would have nothing extra to do. The prison would be immaculate. I think about 1/3 of the inmates do no work whatsoever. So, rather than punish the guys who don’t work, they guys who forget to tuck in their shirts do the jobs of those guys who don’t work. It’s similar to the outside world. Still, it makes little sense to me.
Another rule that we need to follow here is that we are required to wear pants around the compound between 8 am and 4 pm. Failing to wear pants during this time can result in various disciplinary actions from a “shot” (a basic derogatory statement on your record), to not being allowed to eat. The punishment depends on where you are, what you are doing, and which guard catches you. If you go to work in shorts, you could get extra duty or a disciplinary “shot” depending on the guard. If you go to the chow hall in shorts, you probably will be send back to the dorm to change.
One of my favorite nonsensical rules is the prohibition from walking on the grass. I don’t know what the consequences would be if the rule were breached. The grass isn’t particularly nice, and I have seen inmates walk on it from time to time. I haven’t seen anyone punished for the infraction yet. Actually, very few inmates walk on the grass. So, the penalty must not be worth the infraction.
Another seemingly insignificant rule that has mild to severe consequences is that one must stand during the standing count. I’m not sure why we have to stand. Some guys think it is to make sure we are still alive. I think this is the way it’s always done, so it has become habit. We stand because as far as the guards know, we have always stood. The reason is no longer relevant. I personally think it is just another way to dehumanize the prisoners. My dad allegedly violated this rule in his first few weeks in and had to do extra work duty. He and his bunkies claim he was standing the whole time. My dad got a mild punishment. You can get thrown into the “SHU,” the segregated housing unit, for not standing. It mostly depends on the guard, and the mood they are in. If you argue with the guard when you weren’t in your cube or asleep, you could get sent to segregated housing. This is usually the punishment for the guys who have been around. The newer guys, like my dad, get extra duty.
I’m sure most of these rules seem petty. They are, for the most part. However, learning and following the rules are part of the learning process every inmate experiences, and since we are here for not following society’s rules, it’s probably a good thing. If I had followed the rules at my job, I wouldn’t be here. These rules are easy to follow. Tucking in one’s shirt is not complicated, but it does make a guy be part of a system and requires humility. You feel like a child being told to tuck in your shirt, or to stay off the grass. But, for the guys here who couldn’t be trusted with bigger rules, it’s a good place to start (even if the guards sometimes abuse their authority).
The little, insignificant, petty, arbitrary, and sometimes meaningless rules are still important. They are the easiest to ignore, bend, and break. Sometimes we break them so frequently that we forget a rule even exists. I’m continually reminded that my character and integrity start with the little rules in life. It might be a rule at work, such as “don’t leave the computer on when you leave.” Maybe it’s a rule at home, “never leave the toilet paper role empty.” These rules are there to show who has integrity and the respect for others. Those that do will follow the rules, even if doing some requires humility.
In prison, it’s easy to spot the selfish people. I have pointed this out before, but all one has to do is look at the rule breakers. Who cuts in line? Who walks on the grass? The inmate that doesn’t respect the institution with simple rules won’t respect the other inmates either. If you can’t trust someone to follow a simple rule, why would you trust them as a co-worker, partner, supervisor, or spouse? You can’t.
Jeff
I had probably been at the camp for about a month when I discovered the severe consequence of not following a little institution rule. The rule, which I knew about from one of my first days here, is that an inmate must have his shirt tucked into his pants from 8 am to 4 pm (the prison’s operating or business hours). I had been working in the Rec. yard and was getting hot (Taft is pretty warm, and this was in May). I went back to the dorm to change. I was in a hurry and forgot to tuck in my shirt on my way back out. I probably took 15 steps out of the door before I remembered that I hadn’t tucked in my shirt. A guard was coming toward me and noticed my un-tucked shirt and accosted me about the infraction. The guard asked me for my card. I told him my card was in my locker. I was quite fortunate that I had left my ID card in my locker because he let me go without incident. Ironically, another rule, which I have a difficult time remembering, is to keep your ID card with you at all times. So, somehow I got away with violating one rule by violating another. That’s the way prison is sometimes: nonsensical.
Usually the punishment for not tucking in your shirt is extra work duty. The idea of extra duty is humorous because if every inmate did his job you would have nothing extra to do. The prison would be immaculate. I think about 1/3 of the inmates do no work whatsoever. So, rather than punish the guys who don’t work, they guys who forget to tuck in their shirts do the jobs of those guys who don’t work. It’s similar to the outside world. Still, it makes little sense to me.
Another rule that we need to follow here is that we are required to wear pants around the compound between 8 am and 4 pm. Failing to wear pants during this time can result in various disciplinary actions from a “shot” (a basic derogatory statement on your record), to not being allowed to eat. The punishment depends on where you are, what you are doing, and which guard catches you. If you go to work in shorts, you could get extra duty or a disciplinary “shot” depending on the guard. If you go to the chow hall in shorts, you probably will be send back to the dorm to change.
One of my favorite nonsensical rules is the prohibition from walking on the grass. I don’t know what the consequences would be if the rule were breached. The grass isn’t particularly nice, and I have seen inmates walk on it from time to time. I haven’t seen anyone punished for the infraction yet. Actually, very few inmates walk on the grass. So, the penalty must not be worth the infraction.
Another seemingly insignificant rule that has mild to severe consequences is that one must stand during the standing count. I’m not sure why we have to stand. Some guys think it is to make sure we are still alive. I think this is the way it’s always done, so it has become habit. We stand because as far as the guards know, we have always stood. The reason is no longer relevant. I personally think it is just another way to dehumanize the prisoners. My dad allegedly violated this rule in his first few weeks in and had to do extra work duty. He and his bunkies claim he was standing the whole time. My dad got a mild punishment. You can get thrown into the “SHU,” the segregated housing unit, for not standing. It mostly depends on the guard, and the mood they are in. If you argue with the guard when you weren’t in your cube or asleep, you could get sent to segregated housing. This is usually the punishment for the guys who have been around. The newer guys, like my dad, get extra duty.
I’m sure most of these rules seem petty. They are, for the most part. However, learning and following the rules are part of the learning process every inmate experiences, and since we are here for not following society’s rules, it’s probably a good thing. If I had followed the rules at my job, I wouldn’t be here. These rules are easy to follow. Tucking in one’s shirt is not complicated, but it does make a guy be part of a system and requires humility. You feel like a child being told to tuck in your shirt, or to stay off the grass. But, for the guys here who couldn’t be trusted with bigger rules, it’s a good place to start (even if the guards sometimes abuse their authority).
The little, insignificant, petty, arbitrary, and sometimes meaningless rules are still important. They are the easiest to ignore, bend, and break. Sometimes we break them so frequently that we forget a rule even exists. I’m continually reminded that my character and integrity start with the little rules in life. It might be a rule at work, such as “don’t leave the computer on when you leave.” Maybe it’s a rule at home, “never leave the toilet paper role empty.” These rules are there to show who has integrity and the respect for others. Those that do will follow the rules, even if doing some requires humility.
In prison, it’s easy to spot the selfish people. I have pointed this out before, but all one has to do is look at the rule breakers. Who cuts in line? Who walks on the grass? The inmate that doesn’t respect the institution with simple rules won’t respect the other inmates either. If you can’t trust someone to follow a simple rule, why would you trust them as a co-worker, partner, supervisor, or spouse? You can’t.
Jeff
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Little Rules (#35)
As one begins to become more acclimated to prison one starts to pick up on more of the subtle rules. There are rules as innocuous as how to make one’s bed. The prison handbook says your bed has to be made by 8 am. The dorm orderly, an inmate, determines what the correctly made bad should look like. The reason an inmate determines this is based on the weekly inspection. Either our dorm, or the dorm orderly, looks better to the guards if all the beds are made the same way. The guards who inspect the beds call this look “clean.” I was not making my bed correctly and I was subtly told to fix that. I wasn’t told how to make my bed “correctly” but I figured I should make it look like everyone else’s bed. For those who are curious to know how the prison bed should be made, you basically take the blanket that substitutes for a comforter and stuff it in the metal frame. The blanket then wraps around your mattress nice and snug with no ends hanging out. I think this is how they make beds in the military, but I wouldn’t know. Actually, if you go to a hotel an take the comforter off, that is what the prison bed would look like, except much smaller.
Another little rule I discovered was where to take a shower. I know, you think this would be obvious. But there are rules for this simple task as well just about everything we do. Our shower room has 8 shower stalls on each side. The stalls are lined up perfectly across from each other. If you stand with the water hitting your back, you would be looking directly into the stall across from you. We do have chest high doors, but I’m 5’6”, so the door isn’t higher than my chest than for most. Needless to say, it’s very annoying when someone is in a shower stall directly across from you. To avoid this, the rule is to take showers only on one side. Typically, new guys learn this in two ways, either by observation, like I did, or from various belligerent comments like, “Hey pervert, why are you watching me take a shower.”
There are a lot of rules about personal hygiene. The whole process of washing one’s clothes has rules. Keeping one’s cubicle clean has a set of guidelines. I typically don’t mop my cubicle as much as some other guys, but as a generic rule you should mop at least once a week.
The subtle little rules aren’t limited to hygiene. One good rule to follow is “don’t be the first person out of the door and the last person back in.” Obviously, someone has to be first, and someone has to be last. But, you don’t have to be that someone, or at least regularly. The guys know the system. Most of us don’t want to know when the yard is open because we are on a first name basis with the guard. The majority of inmates, if they want to avoid trouble, should wait until someone else goes out and get back to the dorm before a guard notices that you are last.
Another dorm rule that is of extreme importance is to never change the television channel. Again, leave this for the guys who have been around a while. Oddly, you can sit in someone’s chair (I wrote about how you get assigned chairs in an earlier blog), at least at our camp, anyway, unless they want to use it. Every inmate gets a chair. These are usually in your cube. The tv rooms have no chairs. If you want to watch tv, you have to bring your chair. The chairs are marked with your bunk assignment. Lots of guys leave their chairs in the tv rooms for several days. So, if a chair is empty, you can use it. However, don’t try putting your chair in a reserved tv room during movie night. That will get you in trouble just like changing the channel will. Strangely, with this fascination with tv rules, one would think that talking during a movie or tv show would be taboo. It’s not. I don’t get that one.
Most of these little rules seem petty, and they are. But, the bigger rule that encompasses all of these petty rules is that the little things matter. I’ve mentioned this a few times, and I think it’s because it’s a lesson I didn’t learn that got me here, and once I got here, I learned that people watch how you respond to the little things. Following even the most ridiculous of rules still shows what kind of person you are and how other inmates view you. One of the things the inmates here hate the most (besides a rat) is an inmate who thinks he is above the system, because he is better than the other inmates, or doesn’t believe that he is a criminal. By not following the simple, but oftentimes, petty and silly rules, the inmate portrays a self-righteous attitude that such pettiness does not apply to him. Such an inmate doesn’t get too many friends.
So, the little things matter in life and in prison. The little rules I discussed are handy for interpersonal relationships with other inmates. There are other rules that the institution places on us that are important to follow too. I’ll discuss these in the next installment.
Jeff
Another little rule I discovered was where to take a shower. I know, you think this would be obvious. But there are rules for this simple task as well just about everything we do. Our shower room has 8 shower stalls on each side. The stalls are lined up perfectly across from each other. If you stand with the water hitting your back, you would be looking directly into the stall across from you. We do have chest high doors, but I’m 5’6”, so the door isn’t higher than my chest than for most. Needless to say, it’s very annoying when someone is in a shower stall directly across from you. To avoid this, the rule is to take showers only on one side. Typically, new guys learn this in two ways, either by observation, like I did, or from various belligerent comments like, “Hey pervert, why are you watching me take a shower.”
There are a lot of rules about personal hygiene. The whole process of washing one’s clothes has rules. Keeping one’s cubicle clean has a set of guidelines. I typically don’t mop my cubicle as much as some other guys, but as a generic rule you should mop at least once a week.
The subtle little rules aren’t limited to hygiene. One good rule to follow is “don’t be the first person out of the door and the last person back in.” Obviously, someone has to be first, and someone has to be last. But, you don’t have to be that someone, or at least regularly. The guys know the system. Most of us don’t want to know when the yard is open because we are on a first name basis with the guard. The majority of inmates, if they want to avoid trouble, should wait until someone else goes out and get back to the dorm before a guard notices that you are last.
Another dorm rule that is of extreme importance is to never change the television channel. Again, leave this for the guys who have been around a while. Oddly, you can sit in someone’s chair (I wrote about how you get assigned chairs in an earlier blog), at least at our camp, anyway, unless they want to use it. Every inmate gets a chair. These are usually in your cube. The tv rooms have no chairs. If you want to watch tv, you have to bring your chair. The chairs are marked with your bunk assignment. Lots of guys leave their chairs in the tv rooms for several days. So, if a chair is empty, you can use it. However, don’t try putting your chair in a reserved tv room during movie night. That will get you in trouble just like changing the channel will. Strangely, with this fascination with tv rules, one would think that talking during a movie or tv show would be taboo. It’s not. I don’t get that one.
Most of these little rules seem petty, and they are. But, the bigger rule that encompasses all of these petty rules is that the little things matter. I’ve mentioned this a few times, and I think it’s because it’s a lesson I didn’t learn that got me here, and once I got here, I learned that people watch how you respond to the little things. Following even the most ridiculous of rules still shows what kind of person you are and how other inmates view you. One of the things the inmates here hate the most (besides a rat) is an inmate who thinks he is above the system, because he is better than the other inmates, or doesn’t believe that he is a criminal. By not following the simple, but oftentimes, petty and silly rules, the inmate portrays a self-righteous attitude that such pettiness does not apply to him. Such an inmate doesn’t get too many friends.
So, the little things matter in life and in prison. The little rules I discussed are handy for interpersonal relationships with other inmates. There are other rules that the institution places on us that are important to follow too. I’ll discuss these in the next installment.
Jeff
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