Repeats

When Larry came back I recognized him right away. His short cropped blond hair, light blue eyes, and missing leg made it easy. We used crazy glue to try to patch up that fiberglass leg that kept cracking near the appliance that attaches the leg to Larry. "You were just here a few months ago. Why are you back", I asked him. "It's always the same thing, driving with a suspended license. I got 90 days again. You would think they would learn." he said."Why were you driving with a suspended license?" I asked. "I tried to get a handicap parking pass. They refused. I got thousand of dollars in parking tickets because I can't walk that far on my leg. I can't pay the tickets because I don't have that kind of money. I can't buy car insurance either so I can't get my license renewed. I am a car mechanic. After I fix a car, I have to drive it to be sure that it works right. I get picked up for driving with a suspended license and they put me in jail. It costs them a lot more to keep me in jail than if they paid off my tickets. If I could get a handicap parking pass, I wouldn't get any more tickets. Then I could make some money and buy car insurance. I would be able to fix cars and test them. My driver's license would be good. It would be cheaper for them. But no. I can't afford a lawyer to help me with the tickets. I can't afford to pay the tickets so I guess that I'll just have to come back to jail every few months. I wish they would time it better. The weather is good. I could be making money. I would rather be in jail when the winter comes and it's to cold to work outside."

The Toasts To The Sportin' Life

Howard is a teacher. He is in his mid thirties and has spent many of those years in prison. He is forceful, direct, and people listen to him. I think that it is the sound of his voice that makes him so attractive. He said that he was from North Carolina but it has been years since he has been back. There is something about the south that remains. Howard told me that he has a fifth grade education and that his writing and spelling aren't very good. His memory is very good.

Howard can recall "Toasts" and he can recite them for hours. "Toasts" are folk tales that have been told for many, many years. They are most likely to be told in prison. Some of the most famous ones are "The Titanic", "Signifying Monkey", and "King Heroin". Howard knows them and a great may more. Many of the residents, especially the younger ones who have not been upstate have never heard of the Toasts. The young residents know rap songs but they soon recognize that Toasts are an earlier, more sophisticated part of the oral tradition. Many of the residents are so young that they don't even know "Dozens". No matter how bad these young residents think they are, no matter how much power they think they have in or out of jail, in gangs, on the street, or how they outwardly disdain anyone over twenty-five, they come to listen to Howard, the older gentleman. They gather around when he begins to recite. The TV is turned off, the phones are silent. They gather around to hear, not to miss a single word. They try to remember the words. Howard is good. His voice is rich and he makes his characters come alive. He is passing on a rich tradition to a new generation. It is easy to see Howard as a teacher, passing on information from the elders to the young.

The Natural

His name is Ennet but they called him Annette. He is tall, attractive with a smile that could light up a dark room. He is always generous with his commissary, his clothing, and everything else his family brings him. He will always help another resident and will care for him when necessary. He formed an AIDS support group in the dorm and we run it together. We bring in new information, reading material, and occasionally outside speakers to keep in touch with other resources in the community.

Ennet is out there as they say and he has always wanted to be grand. When he is on the street, he wants people to see him as special. He does it by having money, having drugs, knowing the latest fashion, bars, restaurants, and every other currency of being in.

Ennet has the personality, the humor, the generosity of spirit, and the loving nature to he grand if he didn't have a dime. The sad thing is that Ennet doesn't know that he is grand just the way he is.

The Sleeping Giant

Paul is a giant. He is seven feet tall. He doesn't look like the jolly green giant or any camera-loving athlete. He looks like a major force. He has a lot of dark hair that is well groomed after the barbers come in but not for long after. His eyes are dark but his heavily hooded eyelids make it difficult to see them. His beard is heavy and even when he shaves, it doesn't take long before his face begins to look dark again. He stands very straight and looks very large. I have had a few brief conversations with him so I know that him to be articulate and polite. He doesn't speak often and most of the other residents avoid him. The C.O.s keep a respectful distance.

One morning the captain called me because he said that Paul had gone crazy. He said that Paul was running around the dorm screaming. The captain said that he was going to have the men suited to take him down. When officers suit up, they are wear helmets, flack jackets. and body plastic shields. They carry large wood batons and are able to use them freely. They are fondly called the ninja turtles.

I went to the dorm because I didn't want to see anyone get hurt. When I got there, I saw a dorm of 49 men crushed to one side of the room and a very large man running around, screaming words I couldn't understand. He seemed to be ignoring everyone. I went into the dorm and stood by the officers. Paul stopped running and stood panting beside the entrance to the bathroom. In a few moments, I walked over to him. I took his hand and led him to his bed. "Sit down," I said. "No one is going to hurt you." I realized that Paul was sleep running and had no idea what he had done. I said, "Paul, wake up. No one will hurt you." I spoke to him very softly and he started to wake up. He looked confused for a minute but as he woke up more completely, he said, "I do walk in my sleep. I have done since I was a little kid. I am sorry if I bothered anyone." With that , he turned over on his stomach and went to sleep. This time he stayed in his bed and the dorm went back to normal.

When he woke up, he came to me, bowed deeply, and kissed my hand to thank me,

Professional Pride

Robbie was a very handsome man. He was tall, elegant, and well-spoken. His dark, curly hair was well cut. His brown eyes never leave mine and he maked me feel as if everything I said is new.

"I'm a burglar," he said, "and a very good one. My last job, the one before this got me $150,000. This one was was small and I won't get much time. I used to be a drug dealer but I decided that it was too much risk. When I considered new career choices, I decided to go to school to become a burglar. I knew that I would need the skills of a locksmith, a welder, and an electrician to be good at my new profession. Since I was upstate in prison doing 2 to 4 on a drug charge, I figured that I would use my time wisely and go to school to learn locksmith, welding, and electrical work. No only did my dedication impress the parole board, it developed the necessary skills to become a burglar. It was become a very successful choice. I will go upstate again for this arrest. Maybe it will be time to think about other possibilities. I won't know until I find out what opportunities are being offered. Prison is a good place to learn about future opportunities and to become prepared. You never know who you will meet upstate, especially now. Maybe I will make a new choice for my future career."

One night I was coming home from the theater about 11 o'clock. I was alone. My neighborhood is quiet and usually safe. However, shortly after I got out of the subway and was about two blocks from my apartment, I found myself closely followed by a small group of young men. One of the men asked me for a dollar. The translation is "give me your money". I told him that I wouldn't give him any money. As I found myself surrounded, I turned to the young man nearest to me and said, "Back off. I work on Rikers Island and I deal with men like you every day. If you bother me, I promise you that I will get you arrested and when I find out where you are housed you will do very hard time." He knew that I wasn't playing and he backed off because he knew that I could do what I said I could. It all about having friends in low places.

My fantasy has always been that if I were mugged, the intended mugger would recognize me and say, "Gee, Dr. Posner, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you." That is my fantasy. The other night was a reality but I wasn't frightened. I knew exactly what to do and felt confident that I could handle it. It is all in having an attitude. Again, thank you, my good friends.

Hard Choices

Pat was an ex-marine. He had several tattoos in honor of his ten years of service. He was also a power weight lifter. "I left the service because my wife didn' t like the life. She didn't want to travel with me and she got lonely at home. I really loved the marines. I did well. As a weight lifter, I was well-known and I considered trying out for the Olympics. I was a sergent. and my future looked bright. But I saw her point. We had three kids. It was hard on her. I resigned from the marines and I got a job selling advertising for the local newspaper and it was OK. The money was all right and I was home every night. I got to spend a lot of time with my kids and that was great too. I never used drugs and I had a can of beer once in awhile. I had never been in trouble in my life but I knew how to take care of myself.

One night, I was coming home from work and I was attacked by three guys. I guess I just looked like some fat guy in a suit. I was defending myself when I hit the guy. Maybe he was sick. Maybe we will find out at the trial. Anyway, he died and I'm here. I can't believe this happened to me.

Songs and the Singer

Bob writes songs. He sings them to anyone who will listen. Bob is in his 30's and looks like everyone else. He looks like a good guy, a straight arrow. His sandy hair is short, his brown eyes are direct and engage you immediately. Some of his songs are very good. Some of them even sound familiar. As soon as he finishes writing a song, he takes it to the law library and has his name notarized as the author. He uses that to copyright each song. I asked him if he ever wrote one to be sung by a particular artist. "Sure I do. I know exactly who I write each one for." I asked if he ever sold any. "I sell most of my songs and they are usually on the best seller charts. I make a very good living writing songs." So I asked the obvious question, "OK, then why are you here?" "Well," he said, "I'm gay even though I don't look and most people can't guess but I have this macho thing. I tell drug dealers that I'm a cop and they offer me money. I don't take the money but I get busted for impersonating a police officer. This is my third arrest. Hey, we all do what we do."