Incarceration Chronicles VII: 27-28 Feb. 1994 (Days 11-12 at Lorain C.I.)
For context, here are links to previous installments:
Part 1: 17-21 February 1994
Part 2: 21 February 1994 (continued)
Part 3: 22-23 February 1994
Part 4: 24 February 1994
Part 5: 25 February 1994
Part 6: 26 February 1994
Now we resume where we left off, with handwritten page 339 of the journal I kept while locked up (presented here with no editing). Since I had run out of legal paper the day before, I wrote page 339 in very small cursive on the back of a prison visiting schedule/calendar. Circled on the calendar were March 2 and March 16, the only days family members of inmates in my cellblock ("3 House") were permitted to visit that month. Bear in mind that before I found myself at Lorain Correctional Institution, I spent four months in the county jail - so the pagination of my journal actually began in October 1993, when my term of incarceration began. At some point, I hope to backtrack and post those county jail pages as well.
Sun. 27 Feb. 1994
post 12:30 p.m..
I spent the morning trying to sleep, then reading from Gita. I told Mom yesterday that I'd probably get to use the phone this evening. However, it seems the c.o. is changing the program and will have us call this afternoon. That means I will probably miss Pam again. Damn it! Oh well... I can do nothing but accept whatever comes.
* * *
post 3 p.m.
I am disappointed that I was unable to reach anybody by phone this afternoon. I wish the guards would have stuck with the schedule. But at least - I hope - I'll be able to see somebody this Wednesday.
* * *
4 p.m.
I just finished reading Bhagavad-gita again. I keep dwelling on my need to talk to Pam. This makes fifteen days since I've seen her. Wednesday will be the fourteenth day since our last phone conversation. It's the longest I've ever gone without talking with her. With this changed address, I haven't even gotten a letter from her (or anybody else). Man, I hope I get to go to commissary soon. I found and read an inmate manual today while waiting to use the phone. If I understand correctly, I am allowed to receive books and magazines by mail, if they come directly from a distributor or publisher. Now I return to the Our Daily Bread, lacking anything else to read.
* * *
6:30 p.m.
One more instance where the Bible seems to affirm the deity of Jesus is in the book of John (14:9). "He who has seen Me has seen the Father" (New King James Version). John seemed to be more confident of this than Matthew, Mark and Luke. Perhaps he was senile when he wrote his contribution to the "Word." I know he was pretty old.
* * *
8 p.m.
I just finished reading the March/April/May issue of Our Daily Bread. I need books! I need books! I'd rather have good books than good looks.
* * *
Mon. 28 Feb. 1994
7:40 a.m..
The other day, I gave that cigarette to some pathetic, friendless guy. Today, my generosity was returned eight-fold. While leaving chow, I passed Jerry Y. [a fellow I knew from the county jail] coming in. When the guard wasn't looking, he tossed me a package with eight cigarettes in it. Now, I'll certainly be able to get a book.
* * *
10:30 a.m.
I just added to Aunt Marlene's letter and was notified that I will be moved today. I know not where yet.
* * *
2 p.m.
Most of our group was sent to regular housing today. Six of us at the end of the list had to wait until another day, probably tomorrow. For now, I've been moved next door to Unit 3B, #301, top bunk. The 300's are not in cells, but on the floor. Fortunately, I was able to buy an almost-full mini (5"x8") legal pad for two smokes before I moved. Still no luck in getting a book.
* * *
2:50 p.m.
Stay off of my sidewalk
Don't come to my door
I don't want your postcards
Don't call me no more
You broke my heart one time
Won't break it again
You once were my whole life
Let my new life begin.
* * *
3:05 p.m.
Sacrificial imbeciles
Fools on a limb
Birds without a place to fly
Prospects are grim
Watch the light of youthfulness
Fade in their eyes
As the smoke of sad regret
Darkens their skies
* * *
[Here ends page 339. I can't seem to find pages 340 through 360, which cover the next couple of days and (I assume) were written on that mini legal pad. When I do, I'll post the next installment. I need to dig in my attic boxes again.]
Part 1: 17-21 February 1994
Part 2: 21 February 1994 (continued)
Part 3: 22-23 February 1994
Part 4: 24 February 1994
Part 5: 25 February 1994
Part 6: 26 February 1994
Now we resume where we left off, with handwritten page 339 of the journal I kept while locked up (presented here with no editing). Since I had run out of legal paper the day before, I wrote page 339 in very small cursive on the back of a prison visiting schedule/calendar. Circled on the calendar were March 2 and March 16, the only days family members of inmates in my cellblock ("3 House") were permitted to visit that month. Bear in mind that before I found myself at Lorain Correctional Institution, I spent four months in the county jail - so the pagination of my journal actually began in October 1993, when my term of incarceration began. At some point, I hope to backtrack and post those county jail pages as well.
Sun. 27 Feb. 1994
post 12:30 p.m..
I spent the morning trying to sleep, then reading from Gita. I told Mom yesterday that I'd probably get to use the phone this evening. However, it seems the c.o. is changing the program and will have us call this afternoon. That means I will probably miss Pam again. Damn it! Oh well... I can do nothing but accept whatever comes.
* * *
post 3 p.m.
I am disappointed that I was unable to reach anybody by phone this afternoon. I wish the guards would have stuck with the schedule. But at least - I hope - I'll be able to see somebody this Wednesday.
* * *
4 p.m.
I just finished reading Bhagavad-gita again. I keep dwelling on my need to talk to Pam. This makes fifteen days since I've seen her. Wednesday will be the fourteenth day since our last phone conversation. It's the longest I've ever gone without talking with her. With this changed address, I haven't even gotten a letter from her (or anybody else). Man, I hope I get to go to commissary soon. I found and read an inmate manual today while waiting to use the phone. If I understand correctly, I am allowed to receive books and magazines by mail, if they come directly from a distributor or publisher. Now I return to the Our Daily Bread, lacking anything else to read.
* * *
6:30 p.m.
One more instance where the Bible seems to affirm the deity of Jesus is in the book of John (14:9). "He who has seen Me has seen the Father" (New King James Version). John seemed to be more confident of this than Matthew, Mark and Luke. Perhaps he was senile when he wrote his contribution to the "Word." I know he was pretty old.
* * *
8 p.m.
I just finished reading the March/April/May issue of Our Daily Bread. I need books! I need books! I'd rather have good books than good looks.
* * *
Mon. 28 Feb. 1994
7:40 a.m..
The other day, I gave that cigarette to some pathetic, friendless guy. Today, my generosity was returned eight-fold. While leaving chow, I passed Jerry Y. [a fellow I knew from the county jail] coming in. When the guard wasn't looking, he tossed me a package with eight cigarettes in it. Now, I'll certainly be able to get a book.
* * *
10:30 a.m.
I just added to Aunt Marlene's letter and was notified that I will be moved today. I know not where yet.
* * *
2 p.m.
Most of our group was sent to regular housing today. Six of us at the end of the list had to wait until another day, probably tomorrow. For now, I've been moved next door to Unit 3B, #301, top bunk. The 300's are not in cells, but on the floor. Fortunately, I was able to buy an almost-full mini (5"x8") legal pad for two smokes before I moved. Still no luck in getting a book.
* * *
2:50 p.m.
Stay off of my sidewalk
Don't come to my door
I don't want your postcards
Don't call me no more
You broke my heart one time
Won't break it again
You once were my whole life
Let my new life begin.
* * *
3:05 p.m.
Sacrificial imbeciles
Fools on a limb
Birds without a place to fly
Prospects are grim
Watch the light of youthfulness
Fade in their eyes
As the smoke of sad regret
Darkens their skies
* * *
[Here ends page 339. I can't seem to find pages 340 through 360, which cover the next couple of days and (I assume) were written on that mini legal pad. When I do, I'll post the next installment. I need to dig in my attic boxes again.]
I love this entry for several reasons. I feel your feelings about your loss of freedom and most of all beneath the gore, I sense your hope of a new & clear future.
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Thanks, Joy. And thank goodness I never totally lost hope.
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I remember from one of your first letters that all you seemed to want was books. I guess on the list you included several pages of what you intended to read if you could have them sent to you. That for me was so touching. And yes I recall the guys in my class who smoked outside during the breaks. They let me know they couldn't accept any cigarettes from me because they were used as barter. This takes me back a long long time and it has been a long time for all of us since 1994. It still upsets me that you were imprisoned for 11 years and there was no evidence submitted in your trial except the lying testimony of Pam's daughter. This would have been a case for the Innocence Project if there were an active one going at that time.
I think a book you write could make an impact on the way we run our justice system. I hope you get this written as I know you could get it published. I know all of us would support you in that endeavor. Lots of hugs and luck. And Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family.
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Thanks, Elena. Fortunately, most of the rest of the time I was away I had access to lots of books. They weren't always the books I would have picked first if I'd been free to visit bookstores and libraries from home. But in a way, the limitation caused me to broaden my reading pallette - which was a good thing in many ways.
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"I'd rather have good books than good looks."
You're a classic, my man
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Thanks, Michelle. It's neat to be thought of as such, whether or not it's true.
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So there was no prison library? It's interesting - your details about using cigarettes for barter.
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Thanks, Lady. They did have a prison library; but we "orientation" inmates didn't have access to it.
Good thing I didn't smoke - that would have been like burning money.
These particular cigarettes were hand-rolled - Bugler or Kite - which were popular in prison due to the higher prices of "tailor-mades" (also called "Cadillacs") like Winston, Newport and Marlboro.
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I've really enjoyed reading these excerpts from your journals. Gives much to think about.
I also liked the two short little poems. I think I could hear those words in a song somewhere...
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Thank you, Theresa. I did hear "Stay Off My Sidewalk" as the beginning (or chorus) of a song. But that was before I considered myself a songwriter. Then I sent the journals home a month or so later and forgot all about it for more than fourteen years. Perhaps much of my old rhyming poetry (which often makes me cringe today) would work better as lyrics. I'd just have to find time and inspiration to do something with them.
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You tell your story with a lot of skill and a lot of heart. I loved the poems.
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Thanks, Tara.
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Some how I forgot to come back and post my comment.... sorry.
I actually like the stream of consciousness quality that your journals have.. little bits and snippets that weave themselves together or try to.
Like Lady said.. the cigarette barter system fascinates me.... it makes me wonder who would have been foolish enough to actually smoke them... they seemed like such a valuable commodity. What else traded high on the list??
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Thanks, Chris.
Sex was number one.
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Oh..........
And how was that handled or shouldn't I ask...?
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Lots of different ways...
Good thing I had cigarettes...
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