Insomnia

I didn’t sleep well last night, woke up at 2 am and couldn’t get back to slumber.  This is not unusual.  Over the past eighteen months, I’ve probably slept straight through the night a couple dozen times.  The reasons?  No bed in prison is comfortable, no matter how many blankets or pillows you can finagle.  The best you can hope for is to get to where it’s not immediately uncomfortable.  Then there’s the light in your eyes, which is worse on my top bunk.  You roll over trying to get comfortable and the light catches your eye.  Then there’s all the noise from guys shuffling to the bathroom ten times a night or the fella who chooses to work out in the hallway at 2, 3 in the morning or the guard who whistles and rattles his keys and shines a flashlight in your eyes for late night bed check.  Finally, you’re in prison and you never really relax.  Your mind is racing and you can’t get settled down.  Having “one of those days” is greatly magnified behind bars.  And then, oh yeah, the snoring!  Oh man, the snoring!

I never really appreciated snoring until last night.  If the 170 men in our dorm are representative of society in general, then snoring must be an American epidemic.  From my bunk I can hear one or two snorers, just your typical rattle in the throat, nothing major.  But last night I decided to get up and do some walking meditation when I couldn’t sleep.  Just trying to clear my mind strolling around the unit.  I was paying attention to my surroundings, wishing I could hear rain on the roof, crickets, the soft breathing of my wife or kids.  Instead, a serenade of snores.  I ended up counting 40 of the 66 cubes occupied by a snorer.  Is this normal?  Does prison encourage snoring?  I have no idea and didn’t put much thought into it.  Just listening to the concert, with instruments that sounded like freight trains, penny whistles, snuffling pigs, punctuated by sudden gasps of apnea, and eventually it seemed that all the snoring had a rhythm.  As I walked, the noises would blend together, fading away then growing stronger.  At some points the cacophony was assaultive.  At others only a few light snorers were heard.  Alas, like prison in general, never anywhere silence.

It’s hard to put into words the feeling that overcame me on this walk.  Standing in the shadowy hallway, I was struck by the absurdity of our situation:  170 grown men crammed together in a cubicle farm totaling 7500 square feet, forced into an uncomfortable level of intimacy, learning to tolerate most, like some, and genuinely become friends with a handful.  I was feeling philosophical.  Thoughts and feelings coalescing inside me.  Felt I was close to coming up with something profound.  Almost had it, and wham!  Suddenly it sounded like a runaway Mac truck on the other side of the wall, a real contender for the most terrifying snore ever!  Like a beast from hell bearing down on you.  It shattered the moment.  I laughed.  What else could I do?  (Sorry for leading you to think I might have something amazing to tell you, but this is what really happened.)

I went back to my bunk, no more ready for sleep than before my walkabout.  This time I plugged in some earplugs and climbed into bed, having learned what?  Not much to be honest.  One thing is clear, though, the reason allergy tablets are such a hot commodity in here.  Guys take them like sleeping pills to dampen their snoring.  Maybe tomorrow night my vision quest will resume, who knows?  I don’t know what will happen, but as I always say, “You can’t make this stuff up!”

More than a Chair

Today was a momentous day in my life as a prisoner:  I have taken ownership of my own chair in the TV Room.  Maybe you expected something more dramatic?  I assure you, next to securing a bottom bunk in a 2-man cube, a chair in the tv room is the next most highly coveted prison perk.  Wait a minute, as long as we’re rating things, let me think for a minute.

Okay, I’ve got a more complete hierarchy, which goes like this from most to least coveted perk:  (1) As mentioned, bottom bunk in a 2-man cube; (2) top bunk in a two-man cube; (3) bottom bunk in a 3-man cube; and (4) finally (!) sole “ownership” of a TV Room chair with unobstructed view of all five tv’s (better than some sports bars I’ve been to!); and (5) sole ownership of a chair with obstructed views with partial rights to a chair with unobstructed views.  Believe me, to have achieved perk 2 and 4 in less than eighteen months without resorting to hustling or flat-out buying them is an impressive feat.  Later, I’ll speculate on what this may say about me, but first let me explain the complexities of rank in the TV Room.

The most salient point here is that our unit houses 160-170 men and the TV Room has 75 hard plastic chairs lined up in rows in front of the tv wall.  These chairs get stacked up at night and laid back out in rows in the morning.  Technically, of course, you can’t own a chair.  What you do “own” is the spot where the chair sits.  If someone else is in that spot when you enter the TV Room, you have absolute right to evict them.  If they resist?  Well, if you have a legitimate claim to the chair clearly known to all then the quorum will inform the squatter in no uncertain terms to vacate the chair.  As you can imagine, this eviction is typically accomplished in the most diplomatic and gentlemanly way possible.  Carefully worded phrases such as “Get your sorry ass up!” or “What, you some kind of fool?” or most typically, because the squatter is most often a new guy who doesn’t know the rules yet, “Who the xxxx do you think you are?  You ain't even been here a minute!” are some of the gently persuasive requests offered to restore order in the room.

Problems do arise, however, when someone has not used their chair often enough to officially mark it as theirs.  In this case, the chair may be up to get “jacked.”  You jack a chair by always showing up at high volume viewing times and sitting in that chair or by leaving your blanket, ID or radio on the chair.  It is an unwritten rule that NOBODY EVER moves another dude’s blanket.  So in this way, whoever first establishes a consistent presence on a chair takes ownership.  This sort of thing rarely happens, though, because chairs are both rare and valuable.  You usually gain a chair only if a friend is leaving and offers it to you.  Which then leaves, on a busy game night, 90-95 guys who have no chair in the TV Room at all.

If you do not have your own chair, you may have a fully-vested cellie who does not watch much tv and allows you to use his chair when he’s not there.  If you are lucky, he may even grant you eviction power.  If you are extremely Powerballesque lucky, you cellie will be going home soon and will agree to pass the chair on to you upon his release.  This is a sort of lease-to-own program.  You can also try to buy a chair or a share of a chair for X number books of stamps. 

As with real estate everywhere, location is what it’s all about with TV Room chairs.  Some spots cost more.  Until you are able to share, buy or inherit a chair you just have to hope to find an empty spot and recognize that you may get booted 3, 4, 5 times each evening.

Once you have your chair, you are not home free.  You must always guard it from a hostile takeover.  This involves sitting in the chair for at least an hour every day after count, leaving your blanket in the chair when you’re not there, and most importantly never failing to boot a guy who may be sitting in your chair when you enter the room.  Sharing your chair can be tricky, requiring some strategy.  For example, if you don’t watch “Love and Hip Hop” (yes, some of us exist) you can find someone who likes the show and lend it out for that show.  His role then is to tell others, “Look, I use so-and-so’s chair during this show!”  This spreads word of your ownership, even when you are elsewhere.

Okay, so back to the question of how I obtained both a 2-man cube and a good TV room chair in less than 18 months behind bars?  Threats?  Barter?  Poaching/Jacking?  Purchase?  Nope.  Nearest I can figure, it happened like this.  Once I calculated that my life would be greatly improved with a 2-man cube with a window and desk and with rights to an unobstructed view TV Room chair, I came up with a counter-intuitive plan, enlisting tactics not normally seen in prison.  This approach would come as a surprise to my fellow inmates, perhaps even cause confusion among the masses.  Yet here it is:  I decided to be kind.  Taking it a step or two further, I even threw in consideration and helpfulness.  Now, this is still a prison, so I couldn’t be a pushover, but even in this macho world, I found plenty of opportunities to practice everyday kindness.  And it worked!  Lo and behold, I became appreciated and, dare I say, respected by my fellow inmates.  The most immediate payoff is peace of mind, and some admitted pride in maintaining my humanity in an inherently inhumane setting.  Added benefits were reaped when, without lobbying, I was offered a spot in a 2-man cube and then a TV Room chair, no strings or hidden agendas attached.

By the way, I’ve been writing this as I relax in my new chair.  Gotta make my presence known!  Soon, I hope to be writing about my hoped for move to a bottom bunk.  For now, with NCAA March Madness upon us, I relish my 5-TV view.

Birthdays in Prison

It was my daughter’s birthday a few days ago.  It was not a good day to be in prison.  I love birthdays, maybe more than most people.  My wife’s, my children’s, my own.  To me it’s like Halloween, Christmas and New Year’s all rolled into one.  My wife did a great job of single-handedly carrying on the family tradition of making a big fuss.  A daylong celebration.  I called home and tried to keep it together while chatting with my little (well, not so little anymore) darling.  I love you, I miss you, have a great birthday.  The homemade (prison-made) present I’d sent her had not yet arrived, but I told her it was on its way.  She assured me she would love it, would love anything I gave her, and laughed.  I could hear the smile in her voice.  I have amazing children.  My job was to stay upbeat, no sadness, its her birthday, keep it light.  We said our goodbye, but then when my wife got on the tears came.  I apologized for not being there, thanked her for giving us this amazing gift, this brilliant child, 14 years ago.  I told her I admired her strength.  I’ve hurt my wife and kids.  Not being there on my daughter’s birthday is just another example.

My wife gets mad at me.  She has days where she doesn’t want to talk to me.  Days where she doesn’t want to think about it.  When the pain is bigger than words.  I have loved my wife for 25 years.  She is the only woman I have ever loved.  We have two incredible children whom I love dearly.  Every day, I think about the hurt I’ve caused them.  All I can do here is carry on, love them inside these walls.  Try to make sure they know I am sorry and would NEVER AGAIN do something that would take me away from them.  Life has no guarantees.  What I can control is effort and intention.  So every day I wake up determined to once again be the best father, husband, son, brother, and friend I can be.  On bad days I fear that I won’t be given that chance again.  I just hope that people will have faith in me.  I feel that I still have a lot to offer to those in my life.  Prison cannot take away Love.

I’ll miss more birthdays before I get out.  Every day in here is a test, though birthdays are harder than others.  You learn not to look too far ahead, just pass each test as it comes.  Looks like my birthday is next up.  At least I have a few months to get ready for that one!  Peace and love to all!

Problem Solver

Note to my Sister:  Before you read on, YES I know you hear just fine!  It is not an issue at all.  Everyone knows I am prone to hyperbole, and this blog post is just one more example.  Please take no offense at anything I say.

Note to Everyone Else:  (wink.)

I love my sister dearly and would not trade her for anyone in the world.  She has been kind, supportive, and loving throughout my entire ordeal.  There is nothing she will not do for her family.  My sister is also, well, loud.  Not in an obnoxious or intentional way.  Due to some hearing loss she speaks loudly and sometimes misses parts of conversations.  Trying to converse with her in a crowd can be challenging.  With this in mind, when she and my brother visited me this past weekend, I tried to be strategize the best place to sit in the visiting room.  This is a rectangular room with concrete block walls that is roughly the size of half a basketball court, and it’s lined with rows of plastic chairs.  There’s a high guard’s desk like a judge’s, a board game area, a vending machine area, and bathrooms.  When a lot of visitors are in there, it can sound like there’s a half court game going on.

There are two corners of the room, however, that offer a little peace.  The chair rows are shorter there, so fewer people crowd around.  The night before my sister and brother visited, I asked to sit there and that request was granted.  That spot allowed a two row buffer behind us and no one in the front row or on either side of us.  Whew!  We had a wonderful visit.  But upon their return the next day, I sat down in the same section and was told to move by the guard.  I politely explained why I preferred to sit there, but was told no, not possible, sit where I tell you.  Afraid of endangering the visit, I moved to the spot where the guard wanted me to go.  While it was still enjoyable to visit with my siblings, my sister clearly had some trouble hearing, as we were surrounded by families on all four sides.  My sister tried to speak quietly, but sometimes no sound came out of her mouth at all!  We all had a good laugh over that, but boy was it frustrating!

Two days later, I approached the warden and assistant warden after lunch.  I explained our problem and asked about the protocol for accommodating visitors.  They said sitting in the quiet corner was a safety concern, because it’s safer for people to be kept all together.  Also, they said people might sneak in contraband in that corner.  To me, this made no sense.  They monitor the whole room and we are searched when we leave.  Finally the warden came up with a solution.  She was being a problem solver.   She looked me in the eye and said, “Tell her to buy better hearing aids.”  They both laughed heartily at this little joke, clearly dismissing me for daring to ask for help.

I’m lucky, I know, to get visitors from time to time, and I cherish each person who goes through all the travel and hassle of coming here.  It seems like the least they could do here would be to allow some accommodation for visitors who do make the trip.  But no.  What can I do about it?  Well, as for visits with my sister, I’ll just have to yell (with a smile on my face) and see how they like that!