Holiday Packs, Holiday Surprises

Tuesday evening holiday packs were delivered. Twice a year families and friends – or inmates themselves – can spend up to $100 on special foods sold by the commissary contractor, Keefe. Packages filled with microwavable bacon, pulled pork, jerk chicken, corned beef, and blocks of provolone and mozzarella, show up. There are huge packages of cashews, mixed nuts, thin mints, raspberry shortbread cookies, and candy of every shape and description. For guys on a fixed meal plan of small, bland portions repeating every eight weeks, it is a gourmet delight.



Almost everyone gets something. Guys with strong family support line up guys without and use them to receive a second, or even a third package from their family at a small fee of $10 in delicacies from the package. DOC insists that no more than $100 be spent on any one inmate. But, as is shown everyday in here, rules are made to be broken. Guys find other guys. Additional packages are ordered and another DOC mandate is bypassed.


The packs are “the holidays” for most guys in here. Getting something from “your people” reminds you somebody still gives a damn. Like books coming in or a surprise money order being received, you know somebody cares about you, somebody’s worried about you, somebody loves you.


We ate well Wednesday night. Big S, E, and I moved from building 3A to 4A at noon Wednesday. We were part of the first ten going into the new “college dorm”. Over the next three weeks almost every man in 4A will be moved out and approximately 90 guys will move in, all involved in college studies. Seven – me included – serve as academic mentors.


We got to our new building, unpacked, and tried to get acclimated to our new surroundings (I’ve written more on the move in another blog). I threw two pizzas together on Ritz cracker crusts: one full of barbecued beef with peppers and onions and mozzarella cheese and the other a jerk chicken pizza with green olives, cashews, and Velveeta. We stuffed ourselves and for awhile we were just guys eating, not inmates or convicts, or offenders, or any other word that comes into fashion to describe those behind bars.


Two guy’s holiday packs intrigued me. The first was received by DC. DC moved to 4A the same day I did. Also an academic aide, DC is one of the men I’ve come to deeply respect and admire. As I’ve written before, DC has been locked away since 1972. He has remained a vegan his entire time down and has become a devout practitioner of Hindu meditation and pacifism. He is one of the most spiritual and insightful people I have ever met. I wonder how the parole board can still keep a straight face (or look themselves in the mirror) and continue to deny DC parole because of his past serious, violent crime – murder 1 at the age of nineteen) while housing him in a low custody, dorm-style facility. Am I the only one who sees the disconnect with that?


Anyway, because DC is a vegan, his holiday pack choices are quite limited. But, there he was, in the bunk directly across from me, putting away $100 of nuts: pistachios, cashews, mixed nuts, trail mix and dried fruit.


Before we left 3 building “P” came up to see us. He had holiday pack stuff in his hands. There were bags of nuts, garlic shells in cream sauce, cookies, meatballs and mints. He gave the bags to Big S, E and me.


“P” – code name for “penitentiary Pete” – has been incarcerated almost 20 years. A graying, 42 year old African American man, he was one of my favorite guys in 3A. He did a five year sentence in the federal system and was then transferred to the state system. He came in a young man convicted of smuggling cocaine. He received a lengthy sentence to prove America was tough on crime and would win the “war on drugs”. Ironically, just this week USA Today reported a dramatic increase in the number of high school students smoking marijuana. Like so many other “wars”, this one hasn’t achieved its desired results. You don’t solve societal problems by locking people up; that just adds another casualty to the body count.


P had something to tell us. He leaned in close. “Don’t say anything, but I go home tomorrow. I made parole a year before mandatory.” He hugged each of us.


I always felt close to P. He was a bright, decent guy. People think prison makes you a better person. That is a lie. Prison doesn’t make anyone better. It can only make them worse. Decent people can survive the hell of prison because their goodness, their decency, their light, shines through even in the darkness of incarceration.


The great twentieth century German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer said (shortly before his execution in a Nazi prison camp):


“It is infinitely easier to suffer in obedience.”


That was P’s prison experience. That is the experience for thousands of other men and women behind bars.


Thursday morning, on the way out of breakfast; Big S, E and I saw P being escorted by two CO’s to the front gate. His family was waiting to take him home: home for Christmas. I couldn’t help but think of the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Somewhere an angel just earned his wings because P saw it through and was free.


Last night to celebrate, Big S, E and I made a huge corned beef and bacon calzone. It was delicious!