Happy Incarceration Day (or Independence Day)

POEM by McFreedom:

Have you ever heard a catchy tune used in a commercial that seemed to stay in your head? 

Usually with some kind of a rhyme that helped you remember what it said?

I received such a rhyme in a letter.

It reminded me that I had not been a good updater.  

Now I will try to be better.

 

So here is some news and events from the camp.

To those who pray and write under the light of their lamp.

If the law governed rhymes, I'm sure I would be committing a crime.

So I'll focus on writing about the news so they don't make me do more time. 

We have had some very hot weather here at Camp Elkton.  The temps have been in the mid 80's with heavy humidity at times.  The heat has brought about some good thunderstorms but they never sounded the siren or sent us into the basement; mostly because there is no basement here.  This building is built like a fortress and the storms seem to blow right through us.  I enjoy watching the lightning while lying on my bed.  The wind blows the rain hard against the window.  The trees across the fence bend in the fury.  Some of the thunder is so intense; I can feel it deep down in the cement floors of the building.  I love watching the storms. It reminds me of God's power and majesty.  It reminds that this is His creation.

The buildings are kept very cold with the air conditioning.  I dress for winter inside and then have to change again to go out in the heat.  You really have to plan ahead here.  Over at the Suds and Duds, we share an air-conditioning unit with a few other departments; Commissary, The Rusty Scissors barber shop, the Dead End Medical unit and the maintenance department.  This unit quit working nearly a month and a half ago.  Needless to say, it has been quite hot in these departments making life uncomfortable to work in.  In the Suds & Duds, we have a roll up garage door that leads to the loading dock, which is left open while we are at work.  This make's life easier for the boss, who also takes frequent smoke breaks.  We often get a nice breeze and we have a fan on the floor to help when the air is still.  I have not minded the warm temperatures at work as I know how cold the room gets when the air conditioning is working.  Last summer, I often borrowed a coat from our supply room to keep warm.  The others on my team disagree with me. They like it cold.

Our boss reported last week that the medical department has had enough of the heat.  One of the staff over there sent a fiery e-mail bomb and included many people on the send list.  The general message of his communication was "Come and work in my office for a day."  This was sent to all the upper management including the new warden here and the union representatives.  Apparently this caused quite a stir and prompted some action.  That afternoon, the maintenance team was called in to help install the replacement part, which had been sitting in the receiving warehouse for a few weeks.  The only problem was the part was custom made and the size was ordered wrong so now they have to do some welding to make it fit.  We expect this to be done after the 4th of July holiday. 

The temperatures are not the only things that are rising.  Tempers and attitudes also are increasing.  People are testy and challenging each other.  Some are just plain ornery. A few even end up fighting.  We don't have many fights here in this laid back prison.  Many here are mature and educated enough to resolve their difference with some good old-fashioned reasoning.  Yet we still have fights. 

Recently, a classic fight erupted that caught my attention.  There are two men who took their disagreement to their fists.  One is a skinny black man from the streets of Green Bay and Chicago.  The other an overweight white man who was a truck driver and belonged to a motorcycle gang called the “Outlaws”.  Both believed in settling matters with a fight.  One evening I stayed up late after the 9:30 count to call home to Jeannie.  There was a line to use the phones so I looked into the large TV room through the window of the door to see what was on the television screens.  While watching, I heard the screeching sound of a 4-person table sliding on the cement floor.  I turned my head to see why someone would be rearranging the furniture at this time of night only to see the two men described above in a fist fight against the wall trying to stay out of view of the cameras.  Others inside the room seem to be in shock and stared in disbelief.  The fight turned into a dead lock and it appeared to be a hug fest; both men unwilling to concede their pride. Meanwhile a crowd gathered around me to see the action through the safety of the window.  There was nobody in blue around to break the men up.  The fight ended naturally on its own but we all knew it would be a matter of time before some would tell the cops to review the video in the room.  When the fight ended, I moved to the phones and called Jeannie.  I could not speak of this event; as I did not want to risk becoming a part of the investigation.  Two days later, both men where escorted to the hole.  We will likely never see them again as a fight means you move to a new institution.  You may be asking what the reason for this fight was.  It turns out one man believed he owned the seat at the table where the other was sitting.  Yes, it was over a seat in the TV room.

There was another fight that took place another day at dinnertime.  Two men got into a fight with each other in the yard in plain sight of the Lieutenants office while many residents waited in line at the Dirty Spoon.  Our unit was still inside the Lodge and some watched through the windows.  Unlike the cameras, this fight was seen by the staff who reacted quickly and arrested them. This delayed our meal that night making more people frustrated.  Both men went to the hole and there was no clear reason why these two men would start a fight in plain view of the Lieutenants office. 

Yet another man was sitting on hecklers bleachers at the softball field and shouting jests and heckles at a player - a very good player in fact.  I believe they have had other disputes, as this made no sense why he would be so nasty to this one man.  The player ran from first home when his teammate hit a ball deep in the outfield near onto the warning track.  He did not stop at home but continued at the same veracity to the other side of the backstop to confront his mean spirited heckler.  He got nose to nose in his face and shouted back, encouraging him to fight.  Even to the point of flicking the heckler in the face.  Neither budged.  It was another cooler headed man who put is arm around the angry runner and walked him around the bleachers to speak some sense into him.  It was a matter of moments before the recreation boss would be outside and catch them fighting. Nothing happened and the game continued.

Residents here who lived in other facilities tell me this fighting is relatively minor here at Camp Elkton.  When men serve longer sentences in higher security prisons fighting is a way of life.  It is the means to settle a dispute, to prove one's dignity and honor, to demand respect.  I am thankful that we do not have to live by fighting here.  Fighting may appear to give a man honor but it is a false and short-lived honor. A wise man doesn't put himself into a position to fight and uses reason to prevent a fight.

Just as the 4th of July holiday rolled in so did a welcome cold front to cool down the air and dry up the humidity.  It seemed to cool off some of the attitudes as well.  People are still getting on each other's nerves at times, including mine.  I have to fight to keep my own attitude in check, which has been more of a daily occurrence.  I need to watch my own words and be more loving toward my fellow residents.  This is often hard to do. 

Just the other day, I was frustrated by a man (I think he is man). He lives on the other side of the Lodge and is technically not supposed to be on our side of the lodge. Yet he spends a lot of time here as his “boy friend” lives over here.  Both are very open and flagrant about their homosexual relationship.  Even the gay men whom I am a friend with are embarrassed by their behavior.  The man who lives on the other side is self-nicknamed "Cat".  The other day Cat was sitting at one of the four computers we have for 150 men.  One of them has been broken for a couple of months so we usually have a line to use the three remaining computers.  I was angered at the fact that Cat was using one of our computers, and I also know that the system is designed to prevent us from logging onto a computer that is not in our housing unit.  So I went up to Cat and confronted him, asking why he was sitting at our computers.  I told him that he does not belong on this side of the building as it is clearly posted and that he is not allowed to use our computers.  I was upset but not shouting.  Maybe it was his excessive juvenile behavior that irritated me the most.  He replied that he was using his boyfriend’s account to listen to music samples.  This is yet another violation of the rules;  one which could get him sent to the hole and possibly another charge added to him.  He did not seem to care that he faced such risk and gave a confounded look as if he was shocked that I dared to confront him. 

Although my words were strong and commanding I did not do anything beyond challenge him and ask him to leave. Nothing more than was said or done.  However, my heart was in the wrong place.  I allowed my anger to control me and I reacted.  I don't believe it was the heat that got to me but more the temptations that Satan used to get me to react to this frustration.  This may seem minor to us but it is not minor to God.  He treats anger as he treats murder (Matthew 5:22).  I wonder if the other gentlemen who took their anger to fist fights ever knew how God felt about our anger?  In addition to this, I had to ask myself how others see me.  Do they see the love of Jesus in my actions and me?  I know that day they didn't.  More importantly, how does God see this behavior? 

It is difficult to live a Christ-filled life, filled with love, when you are surrounded by a few evil people.  Some are simply not too bright or have some psychological disorder but it is hard to tell the difference at times. I should know better and not let this get to me.  I wish I were somewhere else but I know that I cannot escape the evil of this world until I die or Jesus comes back for us.  Instead, this has driven me to spend more time in prayer and study of God's Word.  It is here that I find comfort knowing I am not the first person to endure this corrupt and evil world.  I also know that I have the power of the Holy Spirit to overcome the evil around me.  But it is me that needs to pick up the armor of God.  It is me that needs to take the high road and be the better man. It is me that needs to pursue a more Holy life.

I stopped in the chapel library, which is rarely open.  I had to ask the chaplain to unlock the cabinets so I could look through the books.  He was kind enough to do so and I found a little book that I have heard about but never read. "The Pursuit of Holiness" by Jerry Bridges.  I am reading a couple of chapters a day to digest the truth of living out the Holy life God has called us to live.  I reflect my attitudes to others and my outburst and realize that I can't do this alone.  It is times like this when we really need to spend time in prayer and scripture!  This book is helping to remind me of this truth.  Now it is time to just do it.

The long holiday weekend turned out to be very nice.  The weather was more comfortable and tempers seemed to calm down.  The recreation department set up several tournaments and competitions to change up the routine for everyone.  The first and most noticeable was the softball tournament called rotation.  The premise is that every time the defending team made an out, everyone in the field had to rotate positions.  For example; when an out was made, a player in the left field position would have to run to the infield and play catcher.  The one playing catcher would move to third base, the third baseman would become the short stop.  I am sure you get the idea by now.  This forces players to run more and also to play positions they may not be good at.  It makes for some hilarious plays!

The bleachers behind the backstop were filled with hecklers who shout all sorts of demeaning comments as they attempt to make their debut as a comedian.  For this reason we call this "Heckle Field".  Many of these games seem to go on forever with no hope of ending.  They have a mercy rule to help but even that is not enough.  The mercy rule will end the game if one team is leading by 15 runs by the end of the third inning.  We had a speed record of thirty minutes for a team to pummel their opponent.  It was really sad to watch but there were many funny moments in the short-lived exhibition. 

There were other tournaments as well.  Some were basketball games, card games, darts, bocce ball, Frisbee toss and one of the funniest of them all was the dizzy bat race.  I have participated in this relay in the past but mostly at a picnic for fun.  Who would ever imagine that this would be played in a federal prison with convicted felons?  This event was hosted on the soccer field and had many participants.  I am happy to say that I was NOT one of them.  I enjoyed some good belly laughs watching this race. 

Friday lunch was our big feast.  They brought the charcoal grill down and the kitchen workers grilled the flat patties of hamburger meant and roasted one side of the hot dogs.  We had baked beans with no rocks, corn (without the cob), coleslaw, pasta salad, watermelon slices, and ice cream.  I gave away my two cups of ice cream and received an extra watermelon slice although I was unable to eat them both.  I ate my hamburger but put my hotdogs in a used coffee bag I brought with me so I could eat them for dinner.  I heated them up by double bagging them and submersing them in a tub of hot water.  I took them out and brought them to Heckle field to watch the next game.  For a few moments, I felt like was at the Twins game with my Dad eating steamed hot dogs.  Others around me were jealous of my idea.  I may have found a new hustle.  Afterward, I purchased a raspberry “cheesecake” with a dollar stamp from a guy who makes them from time to time.  You would be amazed at the creative prison food made by residents.  The reuse the foil mini pie tins we had from the holidays to make these.  They are lined with a graham cracker butter crust and then filled with cheesecake made from non-dairy creamer and a little milk.  The raspberry comes from the raspberry kool-aid that is handed out for winning softball tournament games.  It was a very delicious and sweet.  A very nice treat!

There wasn't much to see for fireworks as we are inside the building and away from any large community that could afford such an event.  I think our fireworks display, to celebrate our independence from governments that oppress are misguided.  We left the oppression of one government and created a bigger government, which is even more oppressive in different ways.  That is as far as I will go on politics here in prison.  The rest of the weekend was rather serene and relaxed.  Attitudes improved and people simply had fun.  Many of the staff were new faces that we had not often seen before, as I am sure there were many that were on vacation with their families.  Still, they were easy to get along with. 

Monday came around and it was nice to get back to our daily routines.  Three-day breaks are often just what is needed.  Much more than that and it would be too long. 

That is how it is here at the camp - your tax dollars at work, keeping your streets safe tonight.

McFreedom (back in the writer’s chair!!!)