"It wasn't as if I was trying to blow up the house and to kill my kids. I am not a terrorist." said John. John looked more like a freshly wrapped mummy. Most of his head, except for two large green eyes and a mouth with only one tooth, was wrapped in white gauze bandage. Both hands were similarly wrapped. "I live in a bad neighborhood and I got robbed three times. I get tired of telling the police and nothing happens. I decided to rig up a big surprise for the the next guy that tried to rob me. I got some cookies (small plastic explosives) and rigged up a device in the closet. I learned about demolitions in the army. I figured that when the thief opened the closet door, it would go off and have a real loud bang. It wouldn't hurt anyone but it would sure scare the hell out of them. It seemed like a really good idea. But then my wife started to talk me out of it. She said it was a bad idea. She said that maybe I would be drinking and forget about it. Anyway, I was going to dismantle it. As I was kneeling down, about to take off the wire, my stupid dog pushes in. I dropped the wire to push the dog away before he got hurt and the damn thing goes off in my face. You see, I expect the thief to open the door by the handle. No one would have gotten hurt. But I was right over the thing. I am lucky that I just got burned and didn't get anything blown off." John said that he learned demotions in the army. He didn't say he was any expert.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Master Artist
Among the other examples of creativity are Frank's tools. Jailhouse tattooing is very common. Designs include gang signs, hearts, names of lovers, family members, children, tributes to mother, religious pictures, and a wide variety of animals. Local jailhouse artists apply most of the tattoos. They use needles and ink for the task and it is very time consuming. Frank decided that his artistry was not sufficiently demonstrated by this method.
Frank used the inside of a cheap ballpoint pen, the motor from a portable radio, the batteries from a Walkman and he made his own mechanical tattooing pen. He said that it more nearly compared with the professional devices used by tattoo parlors on the street. Since all advertising is word of mouth, Frank used his own body to demonstrate his artistic talents. After he produced a few illustrations on other clients, they too became his advertisements.
Inmates get one hour a day of exercise in the yard and this opportunity expanded Frank's clients. Naturally his clientele was appreciative and rewarded Frank accordingly. There is something about necessity being the mother of invention and I suppose this is like building a better mousetrap.
Frank used the inside of a cheap ballpoint pen, the motor from a portable radio, the batteries from a Walkman and he made his own mechanical tattooing pen. He said that it more nearly compared with the professional devices used by tattoo parlors on the street. Since all advertising is word of mouth, Frank used his own body to demonstrate his artistic talents. After he produced a few illustrations on other clients, they too became his advertisements.
Inmates get one hour a day of exercise in the yard and this opportunity expanded Frank's clients. Naturally his clientele was appreciative and rewarded Frank accordingly. There is something about necessity being the mother of invention and I suppose this is like building a better mousetrap.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Talent
There is so much talent in jail. Louis has a great deal of imagination. So much so that he designed a flying vehicle called the "Flying Duck". Louis used regular 81/2 by 11 inch paper. The design is so well executed that it could be build as a model or full scale. The engine room is complete, all the electrical wiring is illustrated, the stairs are in, the the rails, walls, floors, etc are all perfectly visible. There are several views, showing the "Flying Duck" from above, cross section, and from below. The details are exquisite. What makes this even more amazing is that Louis has no mechanical arts training and he didn't even have a ruler but had to use the side of a book for a straight edge.
I have hung his drawings in my office. I love it not only because it is a beautiful rendering and so clever but I also use it to illustrate that goals that are well-defined are most likely to be realized.
I have hung his drawings in my office. I love it not only because it is a beautiful rendering and so clever but I also use it to illustrate that goals that are well-defined are most likely to be realized.
Friday, May 29, 2009
One Man's Story
Gerry said that the moment they put handcuff on him, he said "Oh Lord, don't let me die in jail.". Gerry is thirty-four years old. "I'm not going to lie. When I was younger, I was a real hustler. I sold drugs from New York to Miami. I was on the road all the time, buying and selling. I made a lot of money and I didn't think there was any end to the business I was in. When I was about twenty-nine, I started not feeling quite right. I thought it was because I was running the road so much, doing alcohol and drugs. I thought I was just tired. I took a vacation but even that didn't help. Then I had pneumonia. They asked me if I wanted to be tested for the HIV virus. I told then yes. When it came back positive, I signed myself out of the hospital. I refused to believe it. Not me. Oh God, not me. I thought I would died in the next few days. I really started using drugs. I figured that if I was going to die anyway, I might as well do it my way. I went through all my money. I kept driving up and down the coast as if I could out run it. I had nothing left. I started to sleep on the subway. I saw some kids trying to steal anything out of my pockets. I would have cut them if they had tried to doing anything like that in the past. Now, I just didn't care what happened. About four months later, I ended up in the hospital again. I weight 100 pounds and I am over 6 feet tall. I was just too tired to run anymore. I came in to die. I didn't. By this time, I had full-blown AIDS. My T-Cells was 70. I didn't know how long I had the virus before I actually found out that I had it. I do know that my drugging, my running,and my stress had taken a real toll on my health. While I was in the hospital, I started to read up on the virus. I attended some groups while I was still there. When I came out, I became active in the AIDS program. I cleaned up my act and and I took training to become an AIDS peer counselor. I would talk to young kids in school. I was in the outreach program to try to teach people how to prevent AIDS, how to have safe sex without feeling like less of a man. I found that people would listen to me because I had been in the streets, that I had used drugs, that I had spent time up north(state prison). I really liked being a counselor. For the first time in my life I felt good about what I was doing and really proud of myself. This went on for almost four years, I even found a woman who had the virus and we planned to get married and to take care of each other. The one night, when I was coming home from an AIDS meeting, some guy tried to rob me. I struggled against him and I hit him. He fell and hit is head on a fire hydrant. He died. I never meant it to happen. There is no self defense plea in New York. I am here until they lower my bail."
Gerry has become a peer counselor on the dorm and the most effective, generous person there. He takes charge when a new person comes, especially if the man has been newly diagnosed with the virus. Gerry is the best person to help acclimate someone to the dorm and to the awareness of having AIDS. Oh, Lord, don't let him die in jail.
Gerry has become a peer counselor on the dorm and the most effective, generous person there. He takes charge when a new person comes, especially if the man has been newly diagnosed with the virus. Gerry is the best person to help acclimate someone to the dorm and to the awareness of having AIDS. Oh, Lord, don't let him die in jail.
Friday, May 22, 2009
AIDS Groups
Before I worked in the AIDS unit,I ran an AIDS support group every week in general population. There are about 14 men in the core group and usually a medical staff person would co-lead the group so that medical issues could be addressed. The group was on-going. New members came and others were discharge to go home, to go upstate, or to go to the hospital. No one wanted to go to the AIDS unit because it was called the morgue. People only went there to die.
One of the topics which often came up in the group was the attitude of people who were not infected toward those who are infected. In general population, the men were very wary about letting others know that they had the virus. We called the group The Wellness Group. When the correction officers called for them, they announced "The Wellness Group Meeting". I don't know how many men were fooled but they felt better than having officers announce "The AIDS Group" meeting.
The group sometimes talked about hurt and the pain they feel by the rejection of their families, friends, neighbors, and other residents. Even some of the lawyers who represented them said stupid things. One attorney called me and asked about her client's T-Cell count. With his permission and because I thought that she would ask the judge to consider an alternative to incarceration program, I told her that his T-Cell count was in the single digits. She said that she was worried that he would infect people in the court. I told her that if she didn't plan to have unprotected sex with him or to share a needle with him in court that she was safe and so was the court.
The group members said that it makes them feel like lepers and generally lousy about themselves. One of the ways we used to combat the feeling was by asking group members if they gave the person that right to judge them. The court might judge their crime, a jury might judge them but did they give that person the same right? We discussed these outside opinions and when they became more important than our own judgment. The group members thought about all the people they each gave power to judge them. One man said that he gave smiles to his mother when she fed him, or bathed him, or played with him. He said that he began trying to please early on and gave a lot of power to judge him. He said that he gave power to teachers to tell him if he was smart or dumb. Another group member said that he gave power to the coach at school to tell him if he was a good enough player to make the team. Someone else talked about how important it was for him to be liked at school and that he let others judge him, to let him know if he was cool. He said that he let them judge him. The group discussed all the power they had given to let other people judge them. We all give power to people. We cared what they thought and we gave people power to judge us. We gave them power to make us feel lousy about ourselves.
I use poker chips to illustrate power. The blue chips represent a lot of power. We usually give blue chips to people who are really important to us, mothers, wives, significant others. The red chips are still enough power to hurt. We give them to friends, associates, and other people we care about. The white chips have less power and sometimes we give them out without thinking. We allow anyone to judge us.
I put a lot of power chips of all colors on the table and asked the men to take as many as they wanted. I asked them to think about how much power they gave and take chips to represent it. I asked them to name the people they gave the power to but not to say it out loud if they didn't want to reveal. I asked them to think about whether or not they were happy with the power they gave. I asked them to decide whether or not they wanted the person to keep the power. I asked they to remember they they gave the power and they could take it back anytime they wanted. I asked them to remember that no one can take it, they could only give it for as long as they wanted the person to have it.
I gave they each a blue chip to keep to remind them who had the power. There is nothing magical or mystical about the chip. It is just a reminder.
One of the topics which often came up in the group was the attitude of people who were not infected toward those who are infected. In general population, the men were very wary about letting others know that they had the virus. We called the group The Wellness Group. When the correction officers called for them, they announced "The Wellness Group Meeting". I don't know how many men were fooled but they felt better than having officers announce "The AIDS Group" meeting.
The group sometimes talked about hurt and the pain they feel by the rejection of their families, friends, neighbors, and other residents. Even some of the lawyers who represented them said stupid things. One attorney called me and asked about her client's T-Cell count. With his permission and because I thought that she would ask the judge to consider an alternative to incarceration program, I told her that his T-Cell count was in the single digits. She said that she was worried that he would infect people in the court. I told her that if she didn't plan to have unprotected sex with him or to share a needle with him in court that she was safe and so was the court.
The group members said that it makes them feel like lepers and generally lousy about themselves. One of the ways we used to combat the feeling was by asking group members if they gave the person that right to judge them. The court might judge their crime, a jury might judge them but did they give that person the same right? We discussed these outside opinions and when they became more important than our own judgment. The group members thought about all the people they each gave power to judge them. One man said that he gave smiles to his mother when she fed him, or bathed him, or played with him. He said that he began trying to please early on and gave a lot of power to judge him. He said that he gave power to teachers to tell him if he was smart or dumb. Another group member said that he gave power to the coach at school to tell him if he was a good enough player to make the team. Someone else talked about how important it was for him to be liked at school and that he let others judge him, to let him know if he was cool. He said that he let them judge him. The group discussed all the power they had given to let other people judge them. We all give power to people. We cared what they thought and we gave people power to judge us. We gave them power to make us feel lousy about ourselves.
I use poker chips to illustrate power. The blue chips represent a lot of power. We usually give blue chips to people who are really important to us, mothers, wives, significant others. The red chips are still enough power to hurt. We give them to friends, associates, and other people we care about. The white chips have less power and sometimes we give them out without thinking. We allow anyone to judge us.
I put a lot of power chips of all colors on the table and asked the men to take as many as they wanted. I asked them to think about how much power they gave and take chips to represent it. I asked them to name the people they gave the power to but not to say it out loud if they didn't want to reveal. I asked them to think about whether or not they were happy with the power they gave. I asked them to decide whether or not they wanted the person to keep the power. I asked they to remember they they gave the power and they could take it back anytime they wanted. I asked them to remember that no one can take it, they could only give it for as long as they wanted the person to have it.
I gave they each a blue chip to keep to remind them who had the power. There is nothing magical or mystical about the chip. It is just a reminder.
Friday, May 15, 2009
AIDS
The AIDS dorm is voluntary. It is housed in the medical infirmary building but no one is placed there without hus consent. Alex runs the dorm. He is a resident and he has AIDS. Fortunately, Alex has been able to stay healthy. Although his T-cell count is 0, he has had no opportunistic infections and he takes good care of himself. His picture could appear on the cover of a body builder magazine. He is also a natural born leader and has assumed his position. he takes care of new patients when they arrive. He sees that they have clothing, cosmetics, soap, deoderant, and anything else that will make them more comfortable. Many things can be purchased in the commissery but many residents do not have any money and there is no one on the outside to send them any. Alex sees that special needs are met. If a patient is very sick, as a few are, Alex sees that their meals are brought to their bed. If a patient is too sick to take a shower by himself, Alex will see that he is properly bathed. There are nurses on the unit but not enough to see that everyone gets everything. Alex takes it as his responsibility. Alex sees that the the food is given out fairly and that anyone who needs extras get them. Most patients are able to take care of themselves but Alex sees see that no one takes advantage of those who can not. The other day Alex asked me my first name. It is printed on my badge but I confirmed it. I asked him if he wanted to look me up in the phone book. Alex said, "No, I want to show you something." Alex showed me a letter written to the editor of a magazine called Newsline, the people with AIDS Coalition of New York. It is for patients with AIDS. A man wrote that he had been HIV+ for six years. HE said that the was facing six to tweleve years in prison and a life sentence with his illness. The writer told of his bitterness whaen he found out that the HIV viras had infected him. The writer said that people like, and he named me and the people of PWA (People with AIDS) helped him come to terms with his illness. He said that the was able to come to terms witht he virus but it also made a radical change in his attitude thoward himself, others, and life in general. Alex asked me if I remembered Mike, the author of the letter. I told him that I remembered Mike very well. Mike wrote some lovely poetry. He also told me about the jailhouse mouse. I will never
Friday, May 8, 2009
The Phone Man
This is dated. It was in the days before everyone had a cell phone. This was a time when there was a pay phone on every corner.
Mike was a fat white dough boy. He wore thick glasses and looked like a nerd. He wasn't. Mike ran 30 phones in the Wall Street area. He was King of the Phones. Worthy of great respect. He was well known and very well connected in jail. "Here's how it works." He explained to me on one long, boring afternoon. "I run dental floss down into the pay phone and stuff it. Then, after someone puts in the money and the call doesn't go through, the money backs up and I can collect it. It's got to be unwaxed dental floss and a spearmint doesn't work. It does no good to have just a couple of phones. At takes least fifteen phones to make it worthwhile. I've got thirty phones and I make a very good living. Of course once in awhile I get caught but every business has its overhead. I've got an employee collecting for me while I'm in here. The cops never find out where all my phones are. They may pick up one or two but I've got lots more. Part of the fun is designing a pattern of the operation. It has got be convenient. I'm not going all over the city to milk my machines. It has be a pattern I can remember so that I know where I set them. I place a grid over the section of the city and I make my design. I'm pretty artistic and so I design some really great ones. Some of my designs are classics. Some are birds, on owl for the wise, a hawk for the brave, and an ostrich for those who have their head in the sand. Some are flowers, a daisy not to forget, a rose for mothers, a lilac if the neighborhood smells bad. I have designed cars from outer space, cars of the future, antique cars. Sometimes I think that I really enjoy the designs better that the money I get from the phones No, that isn't true. It is the money that makes it all worthwhile. I've been doing it for twenty years, I guess. Even the cops respect me for being the best. Everyone has to take pride in his work." I wonder what he is doing now. Maybe he retired or maybe he has a better scheme.
Mike was a fat white dough boy. He wore thick glasses and looked like a nerd. He wasn't. Mike ran 30 phones in the Wall Street area. He was King of the Phones. Worthy of great respect. He was well known and very well connected in jail. "Here's how it works." He explained to me on one long, boring afternoon. "I run dental floss down into the pay phone and stuff it. Then, after someone puts in the money and the call doesn't go through, the money backs up and I can collect it. It's got to be unwaxed dental floss and a spearmint doesn't work. It does no good to have just a couple of phones. At takes least fifteen phones to make it worthwhile. I've got thirty phones and I make a very good living. Of course once in awhile I get caught but every business has its overhead. I've got an employee collecting for me while I'm in here. The cops never find out where all my phones are. They may pick up one or two but I've got lots more. Part of the fun is designing a pattern of the operation. It has got be convenient. I'm not going all over the city to milk my machines. It has be a pattern I can remember so that I know where I set them. I place a grid over the section of the city and I make my design. I'm pretty artistic and so I design some really great ones. Some of my designs are classics. Some are birds, on owl for the wise, a hawk for the brave, and an ostrich for those who have their head in the sand. Some are flowers, a daisy not to forget, a rose for mothers, a lilac if the neighborhood smells bad. I have designed cars from outer space, cars of the future, antique cars. Sometimes I think that I really enjoy the designs better that the money I get from the phones No, that isn't true. It is the money that makes it all worthwhile. I've been doing it for twenty years, I guess. Even the cops respect me for being the best. Everyone has to take pride in his work." I wonder what he is doing now. Maybe he retired or maybe he has a better scheme.
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