Jenne
June 29th, 2006, 02:00 AM
When Your Dad's in Prison...
...you find yourself using the past tense with strangers and acquaintances while talking about him...no one wants to hear that shit.
...you sometimes forget, in the hurly-burly business of life, that half your heart was ripped away 2 years ago when they arrested him. Because he's been away long enough to be able to forget, until you remember, and then you can't forget for a long, long time.
...you find yourself angry for no reason, and then it occurs to you that this is the usual useless anger against the the government institutions that are supposed to bring justice and protection but have only wrought paranoia, persecution and impotence in your life.
...you get to drive 200 miles, each way, in the desert heat, where it's 100'F at 8:30 a.m. to go visit him. You get to stand in line with society's finest, most of them dressed in their Sunday best, because The Man(tm) says that women shouldn't dress like women and men can dress like WASPs. No bare arms; no bare legs passed the knee; no blue shirts or blue pants; no clothing that is body-conforming whatsoever. So stand in that 115'F heat for 2 hours, sweating outside in line to get in to that godforsaken hellhole, and then have your paperwork ready for those sonsofbitches to hem and haw over. It's worth it. Yeah, it is.
...you get to go through the grueling line, with a 5 year old and an 8 year old, and two hours later be told they can't see their grandfather, because you screwed up and didn't bring the right paperwork. So you get to go by yourself, instead of the whole family, wearing your men's shorts and men's shirt because it's against the law to dress like a woman in a man's state prison.
...you get to go through an agonizing process of putting shoes in a bin, putting your life in a small, plastic bag with $30 of loose change or $1 bills. You put your arms over your head and twirl. No drugs on me! You go through a metal detector, and hope to god you pass through. If you're like my aunt and have metal dental implants, you have to have a doctor's note stating such. Otherwise, no visit for you!
...you get a blacklight-visible-only stamp on the inside of your wrist, get your shoes back, get recorded by hand (after they already recorded you by computer), and then sent out into the yard, alone.
...you get a heavy metal door slammed shut behind you. The heat is incredible. The tower above you looms, as does the cage you are in. 75' of chainlink with barbed wire blocks out the sky. The heat bounces back at you. You walk 15 paces alone to the first gate. And you wait.
...you get to turn back, looking at those who'd just processed you, like you were a criminal too, and then you look up, hoping they see you, down there, in your man's clothing. As you reach out to touch the gate, it suddenly slams back, and then you walk through.
...you get to hear the slam of the gate shut behind you and walk an additional 15 paces to the next gate. You are still alone, still in the heat, with all 75' of the "cage" around you, above you, hemming you in. Your outside "cell" is 5' x 5'x 75'.
...you walk through the final gate as it opens automatically, and you walk slowly in the searing sunlight, with the haze coming off the blacktop, to the pod where your inmate awaits you. Blessed air conditioning greets you, as does more processing.
...you give the guard your id, your processing ticket, show him the possessions they've so generously allowed you to have, and then wait for him to unlock the door to the visiting lounge.
...you get to have nasty vending machine food that is apparently 125 times better than the slop they serve in the mess hall to the general pop. Everything is either $3.50, $3.00 or $7.00. Cokes are $.75, bottles of water $1.25.
...if you get in early enough, you get a nice table inside right away, assigned to you and your family. You pile up the snacks before the rest of the inmates' families buy them out of the machines. You line up at one of the 3 microwaves to heat them up. Fatty, greasy residue inside the microwaves speaks to the nature of the food everyone consumes with such gusto on these weekend days.
...if you get in early enough, and more people show up, you get to be shoved out into that 115'F heat, to concrete tables, assigned of course, with this black mesh awning overhead. The unlucky ones get assigned the one of the 4 tables without the awning.
...if you get in late enough, you get the early birds' tables, but less time with your inmate.
...you get to have your poloroid picture taken, for $3 at the cost of the inmate, with your loved one. You can take the photo to WalMart and have them blow it up so it looks "better." You can also take it to a service that chops out the prison background and prison id on the inmates' clothing and puts you in paradise, a brand new car, or on vacation.
Like it never happened. Like it's just an awful, horrific dream from which you'll one day awaken. You didn't get those swollen ankles from sitting outside in the heat for 2 1/2 hours, eeking every second out of your visit. You didn't spend $60 on crappy vending machine food, or $75 in gas to get there and back. Those flies and gnats on your windshield...they don't exist.
The pain, when you hug them goodbye, when your heart stabs you with every beat as you leave them behind. It's not there. It never was.
It's just a nightmare.
Go back to sleep.
...you find yourself using the past tense with strangers and acquaintances while talking about him...no one wants to hear that shit.
...you sometimes forget, in the hurly-burly business of life, that half your heart was ripped away 2 years ago when they arrested him. Because he's been away long enough to be able to forget, until you remember, and then you can't forget for a long, long time.
...you find yourself angry for no reason, and then it occurs to you that this is the usual useless anger against the the government institutions that are supposed to bring justice and protection but have only wrought paranoia, persecution and impotence in your life.
...you get to drive 200 miles, each way, in the desert heat, where it's 100'F at 8:30 a.m. to go visit him. You get to stand in line with society's finest, most of them dressed in their Sunday best, because The Man(tm) says that women shouldn't dress like women and men can dress like WASPs. No bare arms; no bare legs passed the knee; no blue shirts or blue pants; no clothing that is body-conforming whatsoever. So stand in that 115'F heat for 2 hours, sweating outside in line to get in to that godforsaken hellhole, and then have your paperwork ready for those sonsofbitches to hem and haw over. It's worth it. Yeah, it is.
...you get to go through the grueling line, with a 5 year old and an 8 year old, and two hours later be told they can't see their grandfather, because you screwed up and didn't bring the right paperwork. So you get to go by yourself, instead of the whole family, wearing your men's shorts and men's shirt because it's against the law to dress like a woman in a man's state prison.
...you get to go through an agonizing process of putting shoes in a bin, putting your life in a small, plastic bag with $30 of loose change or $1 bills. You put your arms over your head and twirl. No drugs on me! You go through a metal detector, and hope to god you pass through. If you're like my aunt and have metal dental implants, you have to have a doctor's note stating such. Otherwise, no visit for you!
...you get a blacklight-visible-only stamp on the inside of your wrist, get your shoes back, get recorded by hand (after they already recorded you by computer), and then sent out into the yard, alone.
...you get a heavy metal door slammed shut behind you. The heat is incredible. The tower above you looms, as does the cage you are in. 75' of chainlink with barbed wire blocks out the sky. The heat bounces back at you. You walk 15 paces alone to the first gate. And you wait.
...you get to turn back, looking at those who'd just processed you, like you were a criminal too, and then you look up, hoping they see you, down there, in your man's clothing. As you reach out to touch the gate, it suddenly slams back, and then you walk through.
...you get to hear the slam of the gate shut behind you and walk an additional 15 paces to the next gate. You are still alone, still in the heat, with all 75' of the "cage" around you, above you, hemming you in. Your outside "cell" is 5' x 5'x 75'.
...you walk through the final gate as it opens automatically, and you walk slowly in the searing sunlight, with the haze coming off the blacktop, to the pod where your inmate awaits you. Blessed air conditioning greets you, as does more processing.
...you give the guard your id, your processing ticket, show him the possessions they've so generously allowed you to have, and then wait for him to unlock the door to the visiting lounge.
...you get to have nasty vending machine food that is apparently 125 times better than the slop they serve in the mess hall to the general pop. Everything is either $3.50, $3.00 or $7.00. Cokes are $.75, bottles of water $1.25.
...if you get in early enough, you get a nice table inside right away, assigned to you and your family. You pile up the snacks before the rest of the inmates' families buy them out of the machines. You line up at one of the 3 microwaves to heat them up. Fatty, greasy residue inside the microwaves speaks to the nature of the food everyone consumes with such gusto on these weekend days.
...if you get in early enough, and more people show up, you get to be shoved out into that 115'F heat, to concrete tables, assigned of course, with this black mesh awning overhead. The unlucky ones get assigned the one of the 4 tables without the awning.
...if you get in late enough, you get the early birds' tables, but less time with your inmate.
...you get to have your poloroid picture taken, for $3 at the cost of the inmate, with your loved one. You can take the photo to WalMart and have them blow it up so it looks "better." You can also take it to a service that chops out the prison background and prison id on the inmates' clothing and puts you in paradise, a brand new car, or on vacation.
Like it never happened. Like it's just an awful, horrific dream from which you'll one day awaken. You didn't get those swollen ankles from sitting outside in the heat for 2 1/2 hours, eeking every second out of your visit. You didn't spend $60 on crappy vending machine food, or $75 in gas to get there and back. Those flies and gnats on your windshield...they don't exist.
The pain, when you hug them goodbye, when your heart stabs you with every beat as you leave them behind. It's not there. It never was.
It's just a nightmare.
Go back to sleep.