Christmas ’14 Part 2 Meeting Ximena

THIS BLOG WAS WRITTEN IN DECEMBER, 2014.

 

            I have weird experiences in here with my writing. Almost everyone – it seems – knows I write. I get asked almost daily – “What are you writing this week?” Or “Is this going in a blog?” I’m constantly amazed by people coming across my ramblings. So, I’m sitting around the other day and a guy asks me, “Why do you write about all this stuff?” Good question. I thought about that a little while. Why do I write about all this stuff? Maybe, I think, something I write will make a difference to someone. They’ll pause for a moment and say, “He may have a point,” or “I’ve felt that same way.” That’s my noble rationale for writing. The less noble reason is I want to write a story that will lead me to meet Ximena.

            Writing nobly. I was walking back from chow one night when a young guy, new to the compound, stopped me. He very politely asked, “You’re Larry and you have a blog?” When I said yes, he told me I helped his mom and wife understand what this “really was.” Funny thing is, I get that almost weekly from guys who have family – or friends who stumble across my site and stop for a moment, read, and get what’s going on.

            There’s a song by Sara Bareilles, “Brave” that goes in part,

            “You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug

            Or you can start speaking up …

            Fallin for the fear

            Disappearing, bowing down to the mighty

            Don’t run, stop holding your tongue

            Maybe there’s a way out of the cage you live in

            Maybe one of these days you can let the light in

            Honestly, I want to see you be brave.”

            I write – a lot – because I think I have perspective now. As I told two friends who visited the other day, this past six and a half years have exposed me to a lot I never thought existed. There are a great number of folks who live on the fringe of society. For them, the deck is stacked. They are disrespected, disregarded, and America seems disinterested in their well-being.

            I didn’t want to think color, religion, or you financial status mattered. I smugly held to the notion that all are equal before the law. They aren’t. Ours is a fragile experiment in governance and we as a people fail more often than we care to admit. I found myself thinking about rap artist Macklemore’s song “Same Love,” addressing prejudice aimed at gays.

            “America the brave still fears what we don’t know.

            God loves all his children is somehow forgotten,

            While we paraphrase His book that’s been around 3500 years …

            I learned in church if you preach hate in the service,

            Those words aren’t anointed.”

            I write because I think honesty requires it. For too long I wasn’t honest, about a great number of things. Then I found myself in a foreign environment, lost, confused, broken. Honesty came naturally at that point. There’s a lot wrong with all this in here. There are more than a few who deserve better, who need compassion and help, not punishment. There is also a lot of evil and ignorance and just plain stupid behavior. So I write because in my heart I believe I have a story to tell. The people, the stories are fascinating.

1. Gay Tony. He sits to pee and sashays around the building like he’s in a Lana Turner movie. When he first moved in he said, “I just love the way you talk Larry, so worldly and polite.”
2. There are “Vikings,” guys who think showering and laundry are optional. You watch them use the bathroom and exit without a bar of soap coming near their hands. And, you finally break down and say, “Look, you need to get in the water and wash your ass!” You learn guys live in here like they live outside; there are some filthy men living out there!
3. You see layer upon layer of DOC “counselors” who do no counseling and in fact, cause more harm than good. They put inforce stupid rules to “modify” behavior – they only piss guys off. “Evidence Based programs” – that’s the catch word for re-entry programming and it’s nothing but inane jargon created to keep people employed.
4. Drug use is rampant. God knows how much is spent on “piss” testing. Weed, coke, heroin – it’s all here in abundance. And, somehow guys have figured out how to beat the test. The investigators rely on “rats” dropping “notes” on “enemies.” Want to hear something funny? Most of the “informants” the investigators rely on are dirtier than who they rat out.
5. So, four guys in our building – all who are walking in and out the port-o-johns on the rec yard far too often – get tested. They “conclude” someone dropped a “note” on them. As I said earlier, guys are plain dumb. Anyone can tell they’re up to something. “You know Larry, this should be expected in here. This is prison.” I disagreed. You learn who you really are in your worst moments. You don’t have to be a user/an addict/ a scumbag in here; it’s way too easy to be one out there.
6. The factory guys. Sure, they make fifty-five to eighty-five cents an hour making furniture that is sold at exorbitant prices to state agencies who could buy the same stuff on the open market at lower cost. That’s Virginia’s “correctional enterprises” program: slave wages plus captive buyers paying exorbitant prices.

Yes, that’s life around here. It gets discouraging sometimes, ok, most times. Then, I think about Dr. Ken Brantley. He was in Africa, a doctor serving with the Christian aid group “Samaritan’s Purse.” Brantley contracted Ebola. He returned to America and was treated with experimental drugs. And he survived.

            “I still have the same flaws I did before, but whenever we go through a devastating experience like what I’ve been through, it is an incredible opportunity for redemption or something. We can say, ‘How can I be better now because of what I’ve been through?’ To not do that is kind of a shame.”

            Dr. Brantley understands redemption. Perhaps, just perhaps, that explains why I keep writing. You screw up, you throw it all away and you try and get beyond the regret that gnaws at your very being. You realize you can’t change the past, but maybe you can affect the present and improve the future. So noble. But, there’s “Ximena.”

            My buddy, O, has been trying to teach me Spanish for more than a year and I must confess, I’m miserable at it. I recognize a fair number of words, can read it and create grammatically correct sentences. But translating it and speaking? Let’s just say you wouldn’t want me asking anyone in Honduras for directions!

            He did get me watching Univision which is where I found “Ximena.” Ximena – a former “Miss Columbia” in the “Miss Universe” pageant is a mid-thirties “weather girl” on Univision’s morning show. Univision is to beautiful women what Omaha is to steaks. Every show is cast full of gorgeous women. No matter how bad the news is in the world, you smile watching Univision.

            So I decided – I told the guys – that I’ll write the great American novel so that I can get invited to Univision’s morning show and meet Ximena. Hey, it’s a goal, maybe not a noble goal but a goal nonetheless.

            Christmas 2014; seventh one inside. And it’s Ok. There are days I still wonder when all this will end; there are days when I feel like I am more alone than I thought possible. But then, then there are those days when I know I matter, and this matters; days when I laugh more than I ever believed possible in these circumstances.

            I’ve thought about the “human” condition a lot recently. We have such an almost natural ability to do horrible things: killing kids in schools in the “warped” name of your God. We seem to kill more than we heal; we are self-centered, vindictive, and fearful. And then, in the hopelessness and darkness there is … hope. That’s Christmas, a reminder that no matter how dark things appear, there is a light, “and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.” Are there any more hopeful words?

            What does all this have to do with prison? A long time ago a prophet said the following, that a day was coming when “He” would,

            “Open blind eyes,

            To bring out prisoners from the prison.”

            Everything I write, everything I experience in here is seen through that lens. It’s all about prison, though not just the ones with walls.

Merry Christmas