My cousin, who has worked with various prison systems and earns her living as an engineer, expressed frustration that the guards won't issue me earplugs. Well, dear sweet cousin, my new upper bunk mate just created a pair for me! I didn't ask him to make 'em. He asked me how I was doing and I told him I was struggling because I cannot sleep at night....too much noise! Your thoughts of earplugs for me manifested! Thank you!
How did this tribe member do it? Necessity is the mother of invention...no doubt. He stuffed cotton, taken from his medicine bottoe, into the finger tips of some rubber/plastic gloves. You see the tribe cleans "the tank" each night and we are provided with some kind of rubber gloves for this duty. Sometimes a tribal member finds himself with an extra pair of these and gets creative! I just tried out my new ear plugs and I think this is going to do the trick! Friday, 5:30AM....FINALLY! I slept through the night..."all in one piece" as an Englishman I once knew would say. My delightful slumber was the result of two events. The earplugs I mentioned above and the human/guard that heads up the graveyard shift. He's new and his approach to "control" is definite! At 10:00PM, each member of the tribe is required to sit on his bunk for "head count". The last name of each tribe member is called from a roster by the sergeant in charge. The response is one's first name. Just like in grade school, a few play with the rules and respond with "here" or someone else's first name. when that happened last night, this new sergeant simply stopped and waited until "the class clown" responded properly. When the sergeant was finished counting heads, he gave a little talk...lecture? "The day-room tables are open for reading and writing until midnight. Keep the noise down so those who are sleeping, can." Then he simply returned to his station. As soon as the door clanged shut (yup, just like in the movies...a horrible sound...more on this later), the sergeant's retreating back was showered with expletives. "What a dick!" and "F -you!" and worse words...perhaps beyond your imagination!?@ Over the next ten minutes, I listened to the volume in "the tank" slowly and predictably increase. I remember thinking "I hope my new earplugs work". BUT WAIT!!! The new sergeant came storming back into "the tank" with two uniformed assistants! He pulled five tribe members out for a "time out"!?@# He told us the next time he had to return, the five would go to "the hole"...not a positive reinforcement!! By 10:45PM, you could hear a pin drop! I sent a thank-you to the graveyard shift a few minutes ago in the form of what is called a "kite"...basically a note on a form we use to communicate with our captors! Penny wise-pound foolish??? I hope not! I have an edema on my left elbow, probably due to a fall I took when I first got here. This "flesh wound" was the size of a golf ball a day or two ago. It's smaller today. I've been thinking about going to "the nurse" but that would cost me five dollars. Five dollars is 38 minutes of TalkTime with my sweet wife. So I'll monitor it. She is more important! FULL MOON SATURDAY The morning was pretty ordinary (as ordinary as any in "the tank"!). Pretty quiet. Visitation was noon til 1 PM. Then back in the cave, the moon exploded! There was bloody fisticuffs. Both were then taken to "the hole"! As they were handcuffed and hauled away, I had two thoughts. One of the men (a friend!) was due to be released on Monday. He has a qucik temper and acts before he thinks. That seems to be SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for many of the tribal members. He and I have been working on "the gap" concept as presented by Pema Chodron. He gets it in his head...he understands that there is a moment between stimulus and response but the implementation trigger seems to be on LOCK! The other thought is that the tribal member who threw the first punch is HIV positive. The HIV factor and the spilled blood means he could be charged with assault - a felony. The guards "tossed the tank" again tonight! Probably because of the fight earlier. Tossing the tank means that a few guards ransack the belongings of all who inhabit "the tank"! This time they took the banana that I was saving for my PBnJ Sunday Snack Sandwich. AND once again, they dumped all my letters out of their envelopes. HOORAY...seriously, I get to read 'em again. I'll cast my eye upon those pages tomorrow morning while the tribe sleeps (a morning ritual for most...which involves 5AM breakfast followed by hours of sleep accompanied by the sound of the TV blaring!). I look forward to re-reading all the lovely things ya'll have written to me!! THANK YOU!!! Sunday the 7th of December - Hawks vs Eagles today. Go Hawks!!! Didn't sleep much last night. I kept thinking about what got me here and what will I do when I get out and can I make reparation, can I somehow "give back" to balance the scales?? I think I mentioned that part of my punishment involves losing my accounting license. After almost forty years in that business, I was finally getting the hang of it - HAH!! So what to do?? I know this might sound crazy and "beyond the Pale" but I'm considering sitting for the License Mental Health Exam (LMHC). Is that wildly impractical?? Someone tell me that it is...please!!! My Master's Degree (in psychology) qualifies me to sit for the license exam. I'm also looking at a PhD so I could advance to the level of a Clinical Psychologist. Are these thoughts the ramblings of an old man...a delusional old man?? Perhaps. Yet I am only 67 years old. A dear friend, now 85 years of age and loving life says the last 10 have been great!! I figure I have 10 - 15 years in which to help others who struggle with depression and PTSD as I have...the "wounded healer", eh? When I consider helping others as my future, I'm hopeful that I still have time to give my life meaning...to make a difference. As I sit on my bunk, watching the movie directed daily by "the tank", I find myself less and less "hooked" by the tribe members and their behavior. A week ago I considered much of their behavior aberrant. Truth be told...I still judge yet less often! I'm watching the eastern sky bloom with the onrushing sun. That's it for now...
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I couldn't get back to sleep this morning after our 5 AM feeding (you would call it breakfast in your world!) so I watched as the sun woke Mt. Rainier ... a glorious view from my "slit window". Then I wrote this haiku: Venus glows brightly. Morning sun lights up Rainier. Magenta snowball. I am a little nervous today. My attorney is coming to discuss his strategy and I know what I want him to do...I know how I want this to end yet he is the lawyer, basically it's his call. In the words of Viktor Frankl, "You cannot always control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you." So it would seem that my job in this situation is simply to:
Hours later, I am beginning to feel better. I've been "fighting the blues" this week...or maybe I've been "experiencing the blues"?!@# I think I have a handle on the why...or at least part of why I've been so down. Three of the "tank-tribe" have befriended me in the past few weeks. They've made my stay a little less lonely. They help me understand the rules, the ever-changing rules...and they have very interesting stories to tell so I have gotten to know them as human beings in this new world. There are times when we interact and I actually forget that I am in jail!! These three tribal brothers are scheduled to be released in the next week or so and I am feeling a little depressed...sad. I SHOULD be grateful for having met them. They are nice people and they have helped me through a very challenging time in my life. I will try to get to that feeling of gratitude for I know it will feel so much better than this sadness. I remember feeling isolated before they came into my life here in "the tank". I don't want to feel that way again. Having these friends in my life made me feel "normal". To paraphrase the artist Flavia: People come into our lives And leave footprints...and We are never ever the same. These men taught me the ropes and shared their food and some of their life stories with me. For that I am very thankful.
That's all the news that's fit to print for today. About a month ago, against my will, I was transported to a foreign country. I was stripped of all my personal belongings and forced to don the national uniform: red trousers (elastic waist band, no pockets), red short sleeved blouse/shirt with one breast pocket (left side), orange socks and caramel colored plastic sandals. Tim Gunn's (TV's Fashion Police) eyes would roll back in his head and he would faint dead away...no doubt! Martha Stewart could not "fix" this outfit. Oh, I also have an ID bracelet with hot pink polka dots and my photo on it. Think of any Communist country, 1950's or so - the tribe in this country all look the same. Did you know that China uses capitalism to maintain its communism? Mmm...a future blog perhaps? I do not understand the language, the culture, the economic system, the mores, the hierarchy or any of the card games in this country. AND, may I add, the card games are played endlessly. As I attempt to amalgamate myself into this society, I will explain what I learn. Let's start here with a few vocabulary words:
I have watched my new currency/economic system over the past weeks and I am still confused. But then, I would bet many Americans do not understand their economic system either... that includes me! Let me give you an example. On Monday, I could exchange one piece of soft, white bread (think Wonder!) for a hard boiled egg. By Tuesday, I might be able to get two eggs plus a packet of jelly. Is this what Alan Greenspan would call "hyper-inflation"?? As you can see, I have designated myself the Silent Witness and Chronicler for this foreign country and my new tribe and I am determined to report ALL that I learn. It's 5:45AM on December 1, 2014 and I think in a previous blog, I mentioned that I miss being in/with Nature. If I didn't, it is true that I do! I hunger to feel the sand under my feet as I watch an ocean sunset. I ache to hear aspen leaves whisper at the urging of an early morning breeze. There's more but you get the idea. Losing the right to be out in Nature hurts my Spirit. Today I realized there is another layer of loss. This Jail (building) is sound proof. The freeway is less than 100 yards away and I was watching the morning traffic through a tiny slit of a window near my bunk. The "slit window" faces east. I saw an 18-wheel truck avoid an accident by locking its brakes. Smoke poured from the tires as the truck came to a stop. He missed the VW by a few feet - WHEW!! While watching this "movie", I was aware that I did NOT hear the sounds of traffic, the honking horns or the squealing tires. It was as though I was watching a silent film! Jail, it seems, is a modified sensory deprivation "tank". This awareness of my sound proof world assaulted my heart...one more freedom taken away. The luxury of sound...one that I used to take for granted! As my mind started to spiral down, I heard my son speak to me. Before I was taken into custody, he said to me... "Be strong, Dad. You can do this." YES I CAN! The lure of Nature Brings a smile to my heart. My cathedral waits. *"Rabbit rabbit rabbit" is one variant of a common British superstition which states that a person should say or repeat the word "rabbit" or "rabbits", or "white rabbits", or some combination of these elements, out loud upon waking (or first moment) on the first day of the month, because doing so will ensure good luck for the duration of that month.10:00 PM I lost my center this evening. I cannot find anything solid to grab onto. I realized about an hour ago that I was shivering. I am always cold. These "red suits" are simple fabric and the air which circulates feels like air conditioning. I think the physical-ness of being cold has exacerbated a lonely, scared feeling. In addition, the noise level jumped by about 60% after dinner because "the tank" got two new tribe members, who happened to know three fellas who are already here! They are so effing LOUD! My senses are being attacked!! I was sitting on my bunk, wondering if this was my life...for the rest of my life. Now, hoping I can sleep. 12/2/14 1:00 AM FINALLY drifted off around 1:00 AM. Woke at 5:00 AM for breakfast, then bac, to sleep til 11:00ish! Mmmm...seems I am joining the tribal schedule I have observed all these weeks! I'm still staving off melancholy yet beginning to feel better. The morning light and the view of Mt. Rainier thru the "slit window" always helps my mood. I thought I had worked my way through the phases of grief. If memory serves, there are five phases: denial, anger, negotiation, depression and acceptance. (I don't have reference material so if this is wrong, please forgive. The author of the scheme is Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. Google her if you want to know more.) When I was "booked", fingerprinted and photo'd, I was in full-blown DENIAL. I refused to accept the facts. I kept saying to myself "This can't be happening! Not to me!". It took a while, maybe a week but I finally "accepted" the fact that I was in jail. Then I got pissed!! Buried within denial is shame and embarrassment. When I write my memoir, I will have to include this disgraceful chapter. Sometimes I think of this piece of my history as a life NOT well lived. AND sometimes, it feels like I'm in a character-building stage of my life! (Smiley face emoticon goes here!) I hope I have enough years ahead of me to put this event so far behind me that it will seem and feel small. This experience does not define who I am any more than my Master's degree, altho' I used to think it did. In Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, he narrates a scene from what feels like an Arthur Miller play: An upper middle class professional man appears before the Nazi authority to present his credentials: his university degrees, letters of reference and so on. The Nazi asks him, "Is this everything you have?". The man nods. The Nazi throws it all in the wastebasket and says: "Good, now you have nothing." The man whose self-esteem had always depended on the respect of others, is emotionally destroyed. I am that man...or maybe I was that man. Being a professional with degrees and the respect of others was important to me...very important, essential in fact. But Frankl goes on to write: We are never left with nothing as long as we retain the freedom to choose how we will respond. I work on that every day. When the police storm "the tank" tossing my books and letters and writing materials on the floor, I used to feel they were disrespecting me. NOW I look at it (and choose to respond)as an opportunity to read again all the "love letters" from my wife...and I smile. I will write about the next couple of "grief phases" in my next blog. I just re-read this blog and it looks like I shot off on a tangent...oooops! Try to see it as a "stream of consciousness" exercise on my part. Nobody's life is smooth and easy. Everybody has ups and downs.
That's to be expected. We may even be eager to try ourselves out, to discover how capable we really are. - Louis Bisch |
AuthorPatrick Michael Leonard Archives
August 2020
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