Posts Tagged ‘Part’


I’m at the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility (MSDF), an institution in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS), participating in the Earned Release Program (ERP).  The morning in our ERP group we finished the movie “Antwone Fisher” starring Denzel Washington, after which we did a questionnaire on the movie.  But talk about art paralleling life!  I just had biological family relatives finally getting in touch with me recently.  I did share what was going on with me in the ensuing discussion and how I was happy the movie didn’t end with some cheesy glorious ending between his mother and him.  Ok, I’m a little jaded.  I just don’t think it happens that often.  Afterwards we finished up the “Rational Thinking” workbook from The Change Companies.  At the afternoon session, we watched a ten year old movie called “Tough Guise”.  Its premise is basically we as men have been programmed to think as violent creatures in order to prove our manhood.  We were encouraged to not believe that obviously.  We received a new workbook “The Price of Freedom is Living Free – Lifestyles and Values” by Jack D. Cooper, published by Kindred Publishing and Productions, and were assigned the first 10 pages.  We were also given a bunch of handouts on Denial, Defense Systems, the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy model, thinking cycle, core beliefs, irrational thinking, the three R Cycle (resentment, rehearsal, revenge) and Stages of Change.  It took 20 minutes to get all this passed out.  To be honest, I’m under motivated right now.  I was up at 5 am to get a shot at the shower and laundry so I’m tired.  I also know this family stuff is on my mind.  I don’t know if they were aware of the early years.  One of them doesn’t know I know my biological father raped them too (his own sister).  Part of me really wished this hadn’t come along right now but something tells me the timing is no accident.  To make matters worse, I caught Andre Charles in my locker but he didn’t know I was watching.  He’s accustomed to have been doing this with Brian Whalen.  So I got the combination to my lock and moved things around so I can lock up my canteen.  That’s going to create questions but this anxiety junkie doesn’t need another reason to get uptight.  Bottom line it’s just not a great day for me.  You have those too.  Issues are different but the results are the same.  But it’s going to be ok.  At count right after supper, the second shift guard announced we shouldn’t interrupt him while he was eating because “dieting makes you crazy” and it must be obvious to us he was a bodybuilder.  We all laughed.  Nobody cared what he does or what his problems were.  But it made me smile so that was a good thing.

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I’m at the Fox Lake Minimum Correctional Institution (FMCI), a facility in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS).  The call had come the previous day letting several inmates know that they should pack up because they were going to be moved.  I was not among them.  One who was included was Saddlebags who himself was headed to a facility in Milwaukee.  Once it became known an inmate is on his way out the vultures come out after their canteen and other possessions.  They use various manipulations or guilt trips on the departing inmate such as lying to them about what they’ll be allowed to have at the next facility or about how pathetic it is to take their canteen with them.  In his case another tactic is employed – theft.  He resides in the aisle next to me and in the early morning hours he discovered the light bulb in his lamp on his bunk had been taken.  Saddlebags tried intimidation and pleading to try to get the light bulb back.  Those in the aisle clearly enjoyed seeing him squirm and gave him replies that only fueled his rage and desperation.  It wasn’t about the light bulb anymore.  They were exposing him as a punk, one who couldn’t protect himself or his things and Saddlebags was attempting to regain a measure of self respect by getting the light bulb back.  What he didn’t understand was the more he tried and failed, the more he put himself on display as the laughing stock of those in his aisle.  I must confess at the time this was going on I was laughing too.  I simply don’t like him, haven’t since the moment I met him.  I tired of listening to his bravado, his disregard for others well being, and how he had hurt others.  But the lesson of why someone shouldn’t laugh at someone else’s misfortune would become evident soon.  Part of the fallout of the first shakedown was that lamps, radios and other electronics that had been altered had either been confiscated, or what had been altered was confiscated often rendering the item useless. Since we’ve had an epidemic of theft of things you wouldn’t consider stealing under normal circumstances.  Wire that is used for an antenna, insulation in a lamp, cardboard and string are such examples.  If it wasn’t part of the device in its original state it got taken.  Inmates often will use materials to enhance or prolong the life of a device.  With much of that material gone, people are scavenging for such.   When I returned from lunch, I found that the insulation in my lamp had been tampered with.  But whoever had tried to take it had ripped too hard on the socket connecting the light bulb, ripping some of the wiring with it.  The lamp had been rendered useless.  Present were my cellie (bunkmate) and those next to my bunk.  They all looked at me out of the corner of their eye but not saying a word.  They knew, they had seen whomever tampered with the lamp but hadn’t said a word then and weren’t saying a word now.  As I’ve said before, though we all act as friends, there is no loyalty.  I didn’t say a word.  I took the lamp down and locked it up having determined I would destroy it rather than give the pieces to anyone else.  I acted like nothing happened.  It kind of fits.  It wasn’t my lamp to begin with.  I don’t dare act like I own it with any credibility. And I had laughed when  Saddlebag’s light bulb had been stolen though the circumstances were different.  I deserved what had happened here and I resolved not to be so smug in the future. 


I’m at the Fox Lake Minimum Correctional Institution (FMCI), a facility in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS).  My routine is such that I walk on the track in the afternoon.  When I returned to my bunk area I found out that one of the guys near me had been busted for smoking cigarettes outside.  He was a well liked guy around here.  The guards called a van to take him to the hole immediately.  Though he was well liked, it didn’t take but a minute for those same who had been friendly to turn into vultures.  They began going through his things taking what they wanted while keeping an eye out for a guard who might approach.  Finally, a second shift guard rolled a cart down the aisle.  He began to box all his possessions  that they hadn’t taken.  He received assistance from his cellie (bunkmate), who had been one of them going through his things.  It’s different here than other facilities I’ve been at.  Some inmates and guards are friendly and are open about it with each other.  But I’d never seen an inmate help a guard do his job before, much less pack up his own cellie.  The sight of this repulsed me, even made me angry.  Ironically,  before I came to prison, I always would assist those in authority if I could.  Yet now, I know I would not.  What changed?  I’m pretty sure this isn’t a positive change in me.  Has my assimilation as an inmate in the WPS been such that the way I think has been altered, even turned upside down?  That I would side with the criminal against those who represent the system?  I’ve even noticed when I write, I’ve changed in how I refer to inmates, saying “we” as if I’m one of them.  I told you when I wrote this blog, I’m going to be honest.  You’ve seen the ways I’ve grown and the positives.  Part of that honesty is things that don’t necessarily put me in a good light.  I don’t want to overreact either.  But I have recognized how my outlook has changed.  Anyway, after all of this inmates things were packed, they slid the cart down the hall, and loaded it onto a van where it would get taken to property.  He’ll be gone for awhile.  That night, the inmate who helped the guard pack his cellie up approached me and asked if I wanted a lamp.  I asked where it came from and he told me not to ask questions.  A lamp is something every inmate should get from the catalogs but I had not, thinking I could get by without it. But after my arrival at FMCI, and not having a desk, a lamp on your bunk bed is almost a necessity.  I have no doubt where this lamp he wanted to give me came from.  But as I write this in the dark with that lamp fastened to my bunk I have mixed emotions about it.  Again, I would never have accepted it 17 months ago.  But I’m happy I can write any hour of the day and night now.  I just have a little less respect for myself now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you had a little less respect for me too.