This morning I awoke early (before breakfast) to prepare for the warden's walk-through, to update my diary, and to organize if I am leaving. I won't be disappointed because appropriate actions just don't always occur in a world permeated by malaise and lack of attention to detail surrounded by men and women "doing their time". That's the employees of the Justice Department as well of the inmates of whom I am speaking.
With the help of the orderly, I had another book delivered to my neighbor. At least he will have something to read now.
As I await the Warden's visit, I was visited by one of the CO's (Rutgers) who has been trying to "figure out" the phone problem. He truly seems perplexed. He asked me if I had paid for my PAC (identification numbers). "No, and no one asked me to do so", I said. In fact, I have my PAC number on my commissary form I didn't pay for my inmate number or my PAC number. This CO has been here in this system for over 15 years from what I can assess. Why is my phone snafu unique? No one pays for the number given to you when you enter prison. Certainly if this were true, how are my commissary products being delivered? Why wouldn't the counselor have done it? Why wasn't it in my documents? Frankly, after twenty days shouldn't I have been told! Others have never heard of it - but in the air tight system of double-talk anything is possible. Confuse, confuse, confuse. Therein lies their power and control.
At moments like this I am reminded of the James Baldwin quote from "Another Country".
"The aim of the dreamer is to go on dreaming and not to be molested by the world. His dreams are his protection against the world. But the aims of like are antithetical to those of the dreamer and the teeth of the world are sharp.” (James Baldwin)
"Their teeth may he sharp, but so is the skin on my neck. The neck of a "leatherneck" (U.S. Marine) is impenetrable." (Richard Altomare)
Well, I gave a note to the Warden. He appeared surprised but appreciative. The rest of the “suits” rushed to find out "what my problem was?" I told my problem to the one who was in charge of phone calls. He was going to "get right on it". We'll see! In my letter I simply explained the facts, gave a brief background on why I was in solitary and I offered to discuss "my observations of this prison" if anyone was interested. Let's see if I get to the top of any list. The book lady wasn't there, but all the “suits” copied something down on their clipboards. It's so pathetic that one has to go through this method to get the basic printed and promised human rights.
Today my legal visit is late. They served me lunch before I went downstairs. This could be a very good or very bad sign. Maybe they went to the Judge's chambers for an order to release me. Or maybe they couldn't get into the legal conference room because they were waiting for others to finish. I really can't speculate. Maybe they just served lunch early. With no clocks or frame of time reference beyond the meals, I could be simply over reacting to an early lunch. We shall see!
This afternoon a "case manager" appeared at my door. "Hello," I said. "Are you a Counselor or an education person, medical personnel, or a psychologist?" "No", she quietly said, "I am a case manager".
Anticipating the obvious answer I said, "Other than managing a case, what does a case manager do, which might be different than a counselor or any other professional?"
"Nothing really", was her response. "I just manage cases". (Damn, she still got to say it). For example, the masochist in me continued," if I hadn't made a call in twenty-two days, could you help me?" "Only twenty-two days? we have until thirty days, and then you can complain," she responded. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?" she concluded with a smile. "Oh no, what else could I possibly want, except do you need a partner to do this job?" was my flippant response.
Whenever I lull myself into a sense of understanding, they seem to move the administrative bar of disbelief yet another degree lower.
With the most sincere of intentions, I do not know with whom to speak. The CO passes the ball to the administrator, the administrators pass it amongst themselves, then the "form" or "list" people never appear, so the administrator and the CO's can continue to blame this secretary, who supposedly works 24/7. In the Bureau of Prisons that probably is 24 days (or hours) a month for 7 months a year.
On paper, our family is told that we can call whenever we want. In reality, silence and non-communication assists the prosecution in disorienting and performing verbal and intellectual lobotomies until they either acquiesce or apply for one of these jobs to work here.
An examination of their managerial qualifications reminds me of two tongue-in-cheek 1960 military draft stories. In the military, I always believed they were too lazy to make up new exams year after year. Yet, some soldiers would cheat. So to avoid cheating, the administration would not change the test - only the answers.
Yesterday, one of the guards (almost 350 pounds) told me that FBI agents and prison guards took the exact same test. Fortunately one of the more realistic guards said, "Yeah, but we don't have to get as many questions correct as they do."
If these suited professionals take a test to get this job, do they toss and turn at night pretending they work, or are they incapable of describing their actual duties on a future resume because they really did nothing? Filling time is more difficult than actually working or doing time.
There is one guard whose eyes and demeanor tell me he knows what is wrong here and makes me want to apply for the job of Director of Prisons Nationwide. Who better qualified than a former inmate without a criminal record? I have listed twenty-five suggestions for improvement with the warden to discuss. Care to make a bet on if anyone talks to me?
Chapter 8 – Waiting “Listlessly”
As an experienced business professional or hunter plans for an important project or hunt, I have decided, as I await the wheels of justice to release me and while I remain in solitary shackled or cuffed whenever I go to Court or to a legal visit, to embark on the following projects. The first would be some toilet paper acquisition. Second would be an appointment to cut my hair and trim my nails before I can use my nails as keys to leave the cell. Lastly, I want to ascertain the progress of my letter to the Warden.
I am on a list to spend one hour every day out of solitary. So far, it hasn't gotten to me in twenty-two days. I must remind you that at the present time I am on a great many lists.
To review:
I am on the telephone list.
I am on the book list.
I am on the blood test list.
I am on the visitor form list.
I am on the PAC list to see if I have to pay for the identification number to make calls.
I am on the sock list.
I am on the towel list.
I'm sure that I've missed a few, but I am now going to simply fill out a form in my cell and request the toilet paper and the hair appointment.
I'll keep you posted, but I would be remiss if I didn't discuss toilet paper usage by the inmates. It's also used as paper Mache′. They wet it and actually fill in all of the rodent holes, air vents, and any open crack including the bed posts which are long gray