40 Days and 40 Nights in the SHU

 

So here we sit, still in the SHU (the “hole”).  Some may say, “40 days?  What’s the big deal? I’ve heard of guys doing years in solitary!” or “I did 4 months for one shot.” Therein lies the difference. If we had violated some rule, then this could be viewed as a logical consequence of bad behavior. All I did was get locked down for eight months, have a succession of covid-positive cellmates, go to work to clean for staff and inmates through it all, and then as my reward, get transferred hundreds of miles away to another prison, just as the virus eased up in the prison where I’ve lived for several years, and just as the virus is exploding at the new place.  Before transfer, they put you in the SHU as quarantine.  After arrival at the new place, they keep you in the SHU for quarantine, and now, here we sit, because there is no safe place to put us, they say.  After a month and a half in a tiny cell with another prisoner, any effort at a positive outlook is fading.

 

The food is still good, but a book to read, a breath of fresh air, a glimpse of the outdoors, or even a new face to see would be a Godsend.  Most guys in here sleep all day just to make it through, but I haven’t resorted to that yet. My cellie has it mastered. I assume he sleeps night and day both, but I’m not sure. After forcing myself to stay awake during what they say is daylight hours, in an effort to maintain some kind of normality, I’m out cold at night. 

 

As I’m writing this, someone is calling out to “Young Covid” the SHU rapper, who has been losing steam, too. He’s turned to writing love songs, at least that’s what he calls them. I’m dubious, because I heard him brainstorming words that rhyme with “bitch”. Maybe a pet name?

 

The rumor is that some guys in the compound are popping positive for covid, so we may be stuck here even longer.  I don’t even want to think about that, and then what if they do let us out of SHU and call another lockdown like in the other prison?  I’ve been through one widespread outbreak behind bars, and somehow made it through without getting sick. Coud I get so lucky again?  I thought I was brought here for my protection, but out of the frying pan into the fire.  At least I can say that the staff here appears to be straightforward and candid about our situation, unlike the mess I left behind.

 

Oh – a wink of light!  The Book Unicorn did show-up!  Says we may get some books to spell our boredom in a couple days!

 

 

Still in the SHU (the "Hole")

 

Will we get out by Christmas?  The 34 of us bused here hundreds of miles from the prison near our families to this faraway prison where we know no one already did Thanksgiving in Covid Quarantine, and that was more than enough to make us feel like gum on the bottom of a shoe.  My cellmate rolled over the other day, looked at me as I paced the room (212 laps wall to wall is about a mile) and said, “Cellie, I’m gonna need you to do me a favor. Any time I wake up, you just go UFC on me and choke me out, okay?”

 

The days are mind-numbing, unless you are one of those guys who can somehow sleep 18 hours straight.  There are only so many push-ups, squats, and wall sits to be had. Though I know only the rudiments of the game, I spent four hours constructing a chess set out of white paper, envelopes, and a brown paper bag. No ruler, no scissors, no glue, except from the envelope flaps.  I folded, creased, tore pieces of paper, and then -- using old napkin-folding skills from my days as a waiter more than 30 years ago, mixed with pseudo-origami techniques -- fashioned unique 3-D forms to distinguish the different shapes of the pieces. Wetting the flap of an envelope allowed for a bit of adhesion when and where necessary. Coloring 32 squares for the board was the hardest part, using a 3.5 inch fake-lead rubber pencil. Since I’m no grand master, making the set was more fun than playing, but I’m getting better, even won a few times.

 

The guys next door made playing cards. Two doors down a guy dubbed himself “Young Covid” and started rapping. I don’t know if he’s actually getting better or if I’m losing my mind completely, but he’s starting to sound pretty good. I had plans to ride his coat-tails to fame, but my lyric-writing career ended abruptly when I suggested the word “Ovid” to rhyme with “covid”.  Silence on the block.  Can only imagine the looks.

 

After the failure of my rap career, I had to find other diversions.  That’s when I started the “War Against the Orange Fuzz.”  Our clothing, sheets, blankets, and towels are all bright construction cone orange.  They shed fuzz faster than a golden retriever in the summer.  Using a wash cloth under my shower shoes, I more or less skate around the room collecting fuzz. I then sweep it into a pile with a brown bag, pick it up with toilet paper, and flush it. If I did this hourly, there would still be fuzz.  I imagine the cells of some of the lazier guys; they must wade knee deep through the stuff.  The other day I sat and watched a section of the floor. Thinking, there must be some point of initial arrival of fuzz, and I wanted to see it happen. Nope! Empty one minute and in the blink of an eye – Fuzz!

 

My cellie sleeps through it all, blissfully unaware of the sacrifices I make for our nasal-sinus-olfactory health. In fact, my cellie sleeps through almost everything. Not a bad strategy, come to think of it, but I don’t see how he does it. In all honesty, he is rarely awake for more than two hours at a time. I have to wake him for count times, for meals, for meds…. It’s to the point now that the nurse comes to the door, taps, says my name, and just points to sleeping beauty!

 

Although we don’t always have clean clothes to change into, the shower is probably the best diversion. It gets hot and has no time limit. Forty-five minute showers are not uncommon, three times a day. Just think of it, killing 2 hours and 15 minutes in a hot shower every day. Hah – just when you were feeling sorry for me! Bit jealous now?

 

Other than my physical training that keeps me in shape for my duties as squad leader in the Anti-Fuzz Brigade, my patrol hours, showering, and baby-sitting my generally comatose cellie, the only other thing I do is hope that today may be the glorious day when the mythical representative from Education shows up with books! I’d read anything at this point – an Amish Romance Mystery? I’m in!

 

Well, off to do my rounds. Orange Fuzz has again infiltrated the perimeter. I HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO FIGHT!!

32 Days in the SHU (Otherwise Known as "the Hole)

 

Did I break a rule? Get caught with contraband? Nope – I’m in the midst of the Covid Quarantine.  Due to the epic ineptitude of the prison where I’ve spent the last five years (officially 600 out of 1200 prisoners infected, 40 deaths and one staff death (real infection rate is much higher – trust me, I heard the labored breathing), the BOP took over and started mass transfers.  Problem being, if all the prisons have outbreaks, where do you send anybody?  But I guess they want to look like they’re doing something, anything, which is how I find myself in the SHU of a strange prison, far from home, with no communication to the outside world, a world I can only assume is still being ravaged by Coronavirus. No books, no radio, no recreation, one change of clothes, a notepad, and a crappy barely functioning flexi-pen. I’m not being punished, I’m being quarantined. This is just how prison transfers happen in the era of covid, so they say.

 

My cellie and I get along, but after 32 days in such close quarters I think even Mother Teresa woulda choked the shit out of Gandhi! (Only if he hadn’t pimp-slapped her first.) We can’t talk about certain topics, however, without him going all Tennessee hillbilly on me. He’s a good guy, we just don’t see eye to eye on much. Picture that stereotypical rural white guy in his MAGA hat, calls Biden a Socialist, views Fox News as Gospel, and believes Black Lives Matter is a conspiracy against the White Man.  As long as we avoid politics we do okay, but sometimes our 90 square feet can feel like about 50. All this being said, you might ask how I can characterize him as a “good guy”?  Borderline racist, definitely prejudiced against Blacks, but yet has Black friends. A conundrum. He grew up in an all White county and is definitely a product of that environment.  You can see how Trump and his scare tactics work on him, the subtle (or not so subtle) messages convincing him that the people advocating for change in our society want to take something from him.  But I’ve never seen him being unkind to anyone. He is generally generous and friendly.  He’s a considerate cellie, and except for his snoring, easy to live with.   

 

We’ve just had enough after 32 straight days. I need time to myself, I need to go outside (walking cuffed and leg-shackled to the bus at 1:30 AM in the pouring rain doesn’t count), I need to just see the outside, which we can’t do because our one window is frosted – anything to break the monotony!  Some guys talk of having done 6-7 months or more like this, at times entirely alone.  What type of “civilized” country are we, when the brilliant minds in America can’t come up with something better than the soul-crushing, punitive, non-rehabilitative form of mass incarceration we are inflicting upon our own citizens?  It takes a lot to soldier through and many guys don’t have the support of family and friends that I have.  I see the pain, suffering, and sorrow all around.  I see my fellow man struggling mightily. I look around, thinking, “Really, America, is this the best we can do?”

 

 

Prison Lockdown Running Playlist

Three times a week during corona-lockdown we get 90-minutes outside, and with a little stretching first, I can knock off an eight mile run on the little track in the Yard.  Here's my playlist for the run these days:

Lana Del Ray - Doin' Time.

Summertime and the livin' is easy.... Easing into the run, imagining being anywhere but here on a lazy summer day.

Dave Matthews Band - All Along the Watchtower.

Dave is the soundtrack of my college years, and when he sings Dylan's line:  "There must be someway out of here," well, 'Nuff said.  Starts off nice and easy like a jog but then builds to a manic jam!

Led Zeppelin - Hey Hey What Can I Do.

Midtempo, getting into the run now, energetic, but nails my helpless feelings during lockdown:  "Hey Hey What Can I Do?"

Matthew Sweet - Girlfriend.

Picking up the pace now.  If you've never heard this 90's classic, you're missing out.  Song straight out rocks!  Whatever happened to Matthew Sweet?

Carrie Underwood - Smoke Break.

When you are running in little circles for an hour, you need more than just a beat, and this one tells a good story.  Though I don't smoke or drink, this song expresses so well that need to just escape from life for a minute: :...make the world stop and watch it fade away." 

One Republic - Counting Stars.

3 miles down, lap 7 on our track, this one's upbeat and energizing, wailing, "Everything that kills me makes me feel alive!"  I'm thinking, whatever happens, I'm coming out the other side alive!

Marshall Tucker Band - Can't You See.

Nice training pace, just cruising along now.  "Gonna take a southbound all the way to Georgia, Lord, 'til that train runs out of track." I feel like Forrest Gump, want to find an exit and just keep running...anywhere but here.

The Head and the Heart - All We Ever Knew.

Midtempo, chugging now, I sing along to help pace myself.  "It's time to wake up from this."  For me, of course, "this" being the holding pattern that is prison. The song reminds me to snap out of my funk and get on with living.

Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit.

This tune shouts alienation, disillusionment, anger - says pick up the pace, six miles approaching, hit it strong.

Old Crow Medicine Show - Alabama High Test.

I like this song for two reasons: (1) I could use a boost about now, and (2) I'm sure as hell running from something - maybe just my past - but I definitely don't want to get caught.

The Toadies - Possum Kingdom.

Onto mile 7, pick 'em up and put 'em down.  Just smile and keep on rollin'.

Mumford and Sons - Little Lion Man.

No idea what they meant when they wrote it, but this song means a lot to me.  About owning up to what you did, knowing that you hurt people, not hiding from it, but with a little defiance in there, too.  Here's a line to my wife, kids, Mom, Dad, sibling, everyone I hurt:

"It was not your fault but mine/and it was your heart on the line.  I really fucked it up this time/didn't I my dear?"

The Cure - Just Like Heaven.

Surprisingly upbeat coming from these emo-rockers; loved this tune in high school and just recently rediscovered it.

Miley Cyrus - Party in the USA.

Impossible to get out of your head ear worm that makes me smile every time.  Passing the one hour mark now.  Some studies claim you can run harder if you smile, and I believe it.

Kelly Clarkson - Stranger.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"Think you got the best of me? Think you got the last laugh?"

I dedicate this song to the current run, to the coronavirus, to lockdown, to prison, and to the shambles I made of my life.  I'm down, but I'm not out.

Kid Rock - Only God Knows Why.

I know Kid Rock is no Bob Dylan, but he nailed it on this song.  "Somehow I know there's more to life than this, I've said it many times and I still stand firm, you get what you put in and people get what they deserve. Still I ain't seen mine, no I ain't seen mine, I've been giving just ain't been getting, I've been walking that there line, so I think I'll keep walking with my head held high, I keep moving on and only God knows why."

Ozzy Osborne - Mama, I'm Coming Home.

At 75 minutes in, recreation is over and I'm done.  And I'm thinking, it may be next month or next year, but don't doubt it - I'll be coming home!

So there you have it. Add some razor wire and a motley collection of sun-starved, shell-shocked inmates; stir in circles for 75 minutes, and you've had a wonderful prison run.  Sure beats the alternative of my bedridden fellow prisoners, and those who Covid has taken.  Keep a rollin'!

Covid-19 Related Quotes

 

“I’m not worried.  Asymptomatic runs in my family.”

 

“What?  You’re locking us in all together so we can social distance? What kind of f**ked up sh*it is that?”

 

As the list of inmate deaths reaches 24:

 

“If an inmate dies in prison and the warden doesn’t acknowledge it, does anyone hear?”

 

Neighbor overheard praying:

 

“Dear God, I swear I will never take my good fortune for granted again, knowing you have graced me with all I have, just PLEASE, no more peanut butter!”

 

Guy 1:  How much you want for the turkey?

Guy 2:  4 stamps and the peanut butter thrown in.

Guy 1:  I don’t have any peanut butter.

Guy 2:  No, I’ll sell you the turkey but you gotta take the peanut butter, too!

 

Random explosion on Day 58 of Covid-19 Lockdown, no one leaving the dorm

 

As God is my witness, if one more person asks me if I saw the weather report – we can’t go outside anyway, IT DOESN’T MATTER!

 

One inmate to another, after being informed by the Asst. Warden that our possibly becoming infected by guards is a “faulty premise.”

 

Mark my words, they’re going to end up blaming this flu on us!

 

One day later, staff member to inmate drinking coffee with mask around his chin.

 

You see, that’s why people are sick – because YOU PEOPLE aren’t careful!”

 

Inmate to others after yet another announcement that left us all feeling abandoned:

 

It’s time we put all the BS aside. This isn’t about your charges, your gang, your color, religion or car*.  This is about being human, being a man. We are all brothers, we need to help each other, we need to all make it. So I don’t know about the rest of you – you make the choice – but I know I gotcha. I am my brother’s keeper!

 

*Car = slang for where you came from (the VA Car the DC car, etc.)

 

Adventures in Grammar

(Real statements/bulletins from the prison staff)

 

Posted Example of a Disciplinary Shot:

All inmates at the LSCI are required to dawn a mask at all times in the housing unit. (Thank goodness they clarified!  I’d been dusking my mask all this time.)

 

Announced Response to Some Guys Decorating their Masks:

Return to your Cubes! You will be issued new masks. Any altercations involving masks will result in a disciplinary shot. (Phew, glad they’re on top of this one! I nearly got my butt kicked last night by a couple of surly masks.)

 

Misunderstanding re Covid in Prison:

Inmate:  “Hey guard, where’s your mask?”

Guard: “You guys are negative, right? Don’t worry about me. I won’t contact the virus.”

Inmate: “Um, but you could give it to us.”

Guard: “It came from y’all in the first place!”

 

(Okay, where to go with this? I think he really does believe Covid mysteriously came from us, as if it floated in on a cloud and infected us inmates first.  And how is it that the guards get away without wearing masks around us?  Finally, does he actually think the guy asked him about it because we’re worried about him?  Contact?  Hope he meant contract.

 

Guard Addressing a Group of Guys Gathered at a Cube:  “Hey, remember your sociable distancing!”

(We discussed this one.  Was the guard being clever? Intentionally funny? If so, pretty good. Or was it just a lucky swing? The 300-yard drive after a million mulligans? I’m leaning towards the blind squirrel finding a nut – but you never know.

Rep - Cred - Status

Regardless (or according to Merriam-Webster, as of this week, I can officially say “irregardless,” though you’ll never convince me) what you call it, status is very important to many in prison.  Guys seek it out in lots of ways, for instance, a wrist watch not available on the compound, a new pair of sneakers, the loudest juiced up headphones, tv-channel changing rights, the number of women you claim are sending you money (don’t get mad at me, I just tell it like it is, I don’t condone it).  The list goes on and on, ranging from ridiculous and inane to downright sad.

 

I’m trying to cause a sea-change by being the nicest guy in prison, but after several years here still have not noticed anybody really granting “cred” to nice guys. 

 

During lockdown with corona, things have gotten pretty weird. The two biggest status symbols have become working out and fruit salad, I kid you not. Both have resulted in some truly ludicrous behaviors.  Guys who previously left their bunks only because bed pans weren’t available have evolved into clones of Billy Banks, Jack Lalaine, or in one mildly disturbing case, an even creepier Richard Simmons. I applaud getting in shape, but this crowded unit is not 24-Hour Fitness Club.  Or is it?  Day and night, guys proclaim loudly and publicly that they are “gettin’ money!”  Grunting, sweating, running up and down the hallways, doing pull-ups in the shower while people are trying to shower, hauling weight bags made out of peanut butter packs wrapped up in a towel (see last week’s post re our current peanut butter obsession). Burpees! Burpees! Burpees!  You’d think burpees could cure cancer and bring on world peace.  Guys shout, “I got in 5,000 burpees today!”  Which is only believable if they used their ample guts for the rebound effect.  As for form, forget it. 

 

That said, I believe a few guys have transformed and will hopefully stay on the path to a leaner, healthier self, but somehow the others appear to be growing fatter!  Claims of 4,000 pushups a day.  You have to wonder, wouldn’t 3,000 do the job? 2,000?  One guy called me out for just doing 18 sets of 12 pushups. Said my 216 slow pushups, attempting perfect form, was lame.  Ought to be doing his 2,000 head dips (technique is to bend the elbows a couple inches and bob the head) instead.  Whatever. 

 

And, of course, after your rigorous workout, what do you eat?  Fruit salad!  But you can’t just eat it, you have to flaunt it, brandish it, proclaim you got you some fruit salad for all to hear.  Don’t get me wrong, I like fruit.  Fruit is healthy. During lockdown, we get a lot of fruit. But this fruit salad obsession?  Watching the guys all hepped up like they’re on meth or something, at first I didn’t get it.  And then one day I watched the giant vat of fruit salad being made.  They throw in some sliced apples, oranges, bananas, and pears, but the secret ingredient, a ha!  Hawaiian Punch flavor packs and – wait for it! – Mountain Dew!  Of course!  The fruit salad freaks are flying high on insane amounts of caffeine and sugar!  No wonder no matter how much they work out, they just gain weight!  But then when I think about it, this Frankenfruit Salad is the perfect diet to match our insane workouts.  Perfectly in line with the general insanity of lockdown.