Over forty-five minutes later, I was still waiting to be handed my exchange of clothes and to be escorted back to my solitary cell. There were some female guards during this guard change over and I must confess I was a bit embarrassed at either being ignored or not noticed at all or noticed more than I thought appropriate.
As I am approaching eleven days into my incarceration my elusive counselor has yet to submit my phone list or get me books to read or find out why I still do not have shampoo, toothpaste or mouse traps. I still await those basic requests. Yes, mousetraps are the basics in here.
Today, I was honestly told by a guard if I wanted more palatable food I should convert to one of the Middle Eastern religions. "Jews and Muslims get a diet of vegetables and fish", he said. Some of the inmates then "sell" their vegetables for other supplies in this institution. I am not yet ready to sell this food. What I have been eating is far from my perception of currency. I was to learn later about currency exchanges in prisons.
My book “On the History of Salt”, which makes me feel like Bubba and his Shrimp discussions in the Forrest Grump movie, is really my only book (except for the Bible which I read until I fall asleep.) The time in solitary would pass more productively for me and others if there were positive books for the young inmates to turn their lives around or to improve their emotional thought processes. I have observed that prison life seems to not be so difficult for most repeat offenders. They and the guards seem to actually enjoy the banter which appears to be gang slang more than acceptable English. There will be more to follow on that slang gang talk later on in this diary.
After thirteen days the room and the accommodations have not grown on me. I trust that my hardened "sin" of not having the money for the appealed fine of this Judge will one day end my solitary confinement, although I have been told that, under the Patriot Act, I can stay in prison for no crime for up to three years at his discretion. I do have some difficulty with the unchecked power of a politically appointed Federal Judge, but I have to save that for another time, and only after we win our Appeal.
I started reading another book given to me by an inmate, "All God's Children" and on page fifty-five the following quote did give me reason to think at how the term "lynching" came about. The passage states that the word "lynching" probably took its name from Captain William Lynch, a backcountry settler of Scottish-Irish descent who lived first in Virginia and later in South Carolina. In the 1760's, he and his neighbors developed the custom of handing out swift and violent justice to "lawless men" or any unwanted stranger by flogging or killing them. Due process and evidence were not always necessary.
Since I believe my Judge also didn't consider due process and evidence, I guess the genetic "Lynching" problem goes back farther than I realized.
I was informed today that my telephone form was filled out incorrectly because I left a space between the area code and phone number. I must wait another four or five days. Who doesn't leave a space between the area code and the number? Why does it matter?
In addition, I have been told that the "books" are not being delivered because there is chicken pox in my ward and all child bearing library women will not visit. So yet we find another excuse to not work. If I wasn't crazy before entering prison, I would become such as a result of this system. My counselor told me that my commissary form, not honored last week, also had to be redone in ink. Then she said "I've been here 18 years and I'm today as crazy as this system". "The system will do that to everyone", she concluded. My compassion goes out for those foreign speaking prisoners trying to get a pencil, get a form, and meet a counselor, Chaplain or Warden. Everyone says, "Fill out this" or "fill out that" but the results of continual inactivity are the same. I asked why I was exposed to chicken pox and was told that, "You are not exposed because you are behind the door." As one of the other inmates asked again for the basic form which the counselor does not have, she told him to shut up and stop bothering her.
I did receive today, in exchange for my coveted History of Salt a copy of the "Perks of being a Wallflower" - another quality education selection. Without "child bearing visits", I guess I should just silently enjoy the isolation breathing in of chicken pox germs. At least I am not child bearing, but I am starting to "bear" a grudge for a broken penal system that prevents rehabilitation and creates childlike inmate dependency on the idiots who run these institutions. How tragic that Mrs. Andrews, my counselor, will retire one day and be paid for spreading such incompetent insanity. There will be more on this woman in the pages to follow. By the way, my question of why men can't deliver the books was ignored.
I use my plastic spoon/fork for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I have the same white spoon/fork with three small perforated edges to serve as a quasi-fork and will have it until my final day. It leaks as a spoon and is not sharp enough as a fork, but it will become a cherished friend, like “Wilson” the volleyball was in Tom Hank’s shipwrecked adventure movie, “Castaway”.
Today I also got an extra blanket from our orderly, which I could roll into a pillow. My first pillow in almost fifteen days enabled me to celebrate this humble yet often taken for granted sleep item. I slept through the night with my self- made hard wool pillow.
I obtained last night a Torah which was printed so small it was unreadable without a magnifying glass. I am not permitted reading glasses due to the fact that I have not been sentenced and I have not committed a crime. "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" was another classic I must have missed during my twenty years of teaching English. Unfortunately, it is a "Catcher in the Rye" type of work about committing suicide, feeling alone and going crazy. I kid you not! One can't make up the attention to rehabilitative detail of this finely run institution. Give this type of suicide thought process book to an inmate whose mattress has written on it, as in my isolation cell, “suicide watch". What a system of support!
It is a good thing I can still detach myself. I still say good morning when they wake me at about 6:00AM instead of "What's up?" Remember, I have no clocks, mirrors or time references.
As this travesty of injustice continues, in a place with no area for individuals who have not committed a crime, I must be held in solitary confinement within the walls to satisfy the temper tantrum of an all-powerful Judge. Soon I will be able to report to you on those neighbors actually convicted of a crime.
I now have a pillow. I sleep more than I am normally permitted at home and I now have a book on how to justify suicide. The New American Dream compliments of a Judge wrongly appointed for life. Maybe our weathermen should also be appointed for life whether they are correct about the weather or not. It is time we as a society hold our Judges to a level of proficiency and sanity without having to repeat that Holocaust poem:
"They came for my neighbor and I hid behind the door".
"They came for my other neighbor, and I hid under the bed".
"When they came for me, there was no one there to help me"
Chapter 3 – My Dysfunctional Neighborhood
I eat about six hundred calories daily with my white fork/spoon, yet I am happy because after fifteen days I was told I may get to call home for the first time and that my toothpaste and toothbrush order may come soon. All this has happened because one Judge can't figure out my wife's check book, and he has denied our offer to have a forensic accountant present our finances. What has happened to America's judicial system? Is there a quota within the prison system? Is that why I’m here?
I am the victim of a judiciary that made an initial mistake of closing our fine young company and now it is trying to justify that mistake by flexing its muscles and to continue its character assassination of one innocent leader and whistleblower.
We empower our fellow citizens to rule over us in conformance with our laws without a speedy mechanism to correct them when their rulings might be politically motivated or simply wrong.
Today the absurd took on yet another degree beyond my comprehension. I heard an announcement "Psychologist on Floor". I ran to the door to watch a dark suited white-haired frightened man actually running past each of the