Yesterday I arrived at my permanent unit in Dayton outside Houston. I left the red-brick unit faster than I thought I would have. My poor cellie had been there over fifty days waiting to be moved while I left after four. On the way over here I was handcuffed to a guy who will be going home on parole soon after being in prison since 1984 - 25 years! Whew! I think any amount of time being incarcerated feels like it will last forever, but I'm glad I only have to do five at most instead of twenty-five.
After arriving at this 1100-man unit in the middle of nowhere, I sat in a cage outside for two hours while waiting to see the unit classification committee to get housing and job assignment. The housing here is also two-man cells, but they are bigger then those in the red-brick unit - about 9' X 12". Each bunk has its own window that opens to allow air through.
We have a desk with a shelf above it for storing our hygiene stuff. This is the first place I've been to where you can control the lighting in your own housing.
The cell opens into a dayroom lined with two floors of twenty cells and two shower areas with individual showers. There are eight tables on one side of the dayroom and two TV's facing each other with benches between.
The best thing so far is the presence of radios, hotpots, and fans. I haven't been able to get my own yet, but my cellie lets me use his hotpot and radio if he's not using them. I haven't been able to sit and listen to music in so long that it's worth all the commercials of stupid Clear Channel stations. For a few hours last night I lay in my bunk listening to classical music on public radio - not something I usually do but it was great!
I saw a few familiar faces when I showed up. There are a few guys from my first unit in Jasper and even more that I saw from my previous unit in San Saba. When I went to dinner last night, the guy filling the drink pitchers saw me and came over to say hello. He's a guy I played soccer with in San Saba and a strong Christian guy. It was really cool to see an old friend. I can already tell that God brought me to a good spot.
This new unit (new to me, anyway) is far different than any other I've been at. It's one of the oldest in the state. The outside and main hallways have giant Texas-themed murals. Unfortunately, the beauty does not continue to the inmate housing.
I am housed in a two-man cell on a row of twenty on the second floor of the wing. Each wing has four rows of twenty cells facing out toward windows. There are two rows on the ground floor and two on the second floor. My cell is probably the dirtiest place I've been. Most everything is rusted among the two bunks, lockers, desk and sink/toilet. There are drawings and writings on the wall left by the previous occupants.
The meals here are better in quality and quantity than my last unit. It's the first time that every meal has filled me up.
The showers are different than any other spot I've been. The whole wing goes down to the shower and waits in the line until a shower head among the thirty is unoccupied. When finished, a guard tosses a towel to you, and you dry off while asking for clothes from a laundry attendant. Efficient, I guess, but pretty humiliating.
Today started for me at 1 AM when a guard came in to tell the outgoing "chain" to get ready. We were called out of the dorm at 1:30, strip searched and placed in the same cage as when we arrived at this unit, only this time there were 26 of us instead of 11 - very cramped. We had to stay in that cage until the bus arrived at 4:30.
Once on the bus - again cramped due to being handcuffed to someone else and having to sit on a hump over the wheel - we began a ten-hour tour of Texas prisons. First we went across the street to pick up a few more passengers from a neighboring prison. Next we stopped in Gatesville to drop a couple guys off and pick up more. Then we dropped off a few more at a medical unit outside Huntsville before finally ending up at our final destination: an old red-brick prison where inmates are reclassified after their transfer time is up.
It didn't hit as hard today, but it was still kind of unsettling to ride in a moving vehicle that goes at speeds far faster than I have run for the past 18 months. The curves and bumps were even worse. I got used to it after a while, though.
The cool part of the trip was taking Highways 84 and 6 through part of my high school stomping grounds of Lorena, Woodway, and Waco. Highway 84 was part of my route to many church events, and the contractor I worked for after graduating has an office at the junction of 84 and 6. It hurt to see everything so close and not be able to stick around.
Well, my parole packet is complete and has been sent off to the parole board. I've been working on it for a little over a month with my parents' help typing it up and sending it back for edits. Since I came to prison, I've been writing to the board every couple of months on the advice of some older guys who had done time in the past. I want the parole boardvto see my progress, penitence and desire for release. As they say, the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
My parole packet has a cover letter, table of contents, and the most recent letter I wrote to the board. After that I included my version of my offense and each disciplinary case I've received to make sure it's consistent with what they have and that the whole story is told.
Then I have a list of awards and accomplishments that I've received here and also prior to incarceration. I also included copies of certificates I've received.
Next is my parole plan outlining where I will live and work, how I will get around, plans for school and the different groups or individuals I have for support. Next I listed strengths that will help me complete my parole successfully, followed by a list of all the books I've read. Last are a few handpicked letters to the parole board written by family and friends.
Hopefully the board will see how much I have going for me, but at least I know I have done all I can do. God has been with me from the very beginning and nothing I've done toward parole has been done without the help of the Holy Spirit. Now all I do is wait for my interview in the next couple of months and continue to pray for God's wisdom to be with the board as they review my case.
Thank you to all all who have sent letters to the parole board on my behalf. That evidence of support could make the difference in their decision. Please continue to pray with me that the board would find good reason to release me so I can thank y'all in person with a big hug and tears of joy!
At chapel this evening the guest was a music professor from a local university who brought an oboe, clarinet, English horn, soprano sax, alto sax, and flute. While the worship team played, he played different instruments and did riffs off whatever we played, completely unrehearsed.After the worship team had played, the professor played a number of songs on his own as we meditated on the lyrics. Usually I love the sound of the oboe. The film The Mission made me fall in love with its playful timbre. But tonight I was blessed most by the songs played on the flute, especially the first song he did, Lamb of God by Twila Paris.
My mom plays (or played; I don't know if she still picks it up) the flute and I remember hearing songs of hers when I was growing up. It wasn't often. Every now and then she had a piece she would be practicing for church. She also loves Twila Paris' music and it would ring through the house all the time when I was a kid. Hearing both of them - flute and Twila Paris - together, I couldn't help thinking about my mom.
I made sure to tell the professor how much his music blessed me and why. He told me he was glad that God worked through him and to pass on to my mom what happened. I sure will.
* "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands" - Psalm 100:1 (KJV)
Man, I can't wait to leave behind me the absolute stupidity of this place.
There was a fight in the dorm - first one I've seen in some months - for the stupidest reasons.
A few guys were working out in the bathroom, two doing dips on the sinks and two doing pull-ups using a torn sheet and mop handle suspended form the ceiling. A lieutenant came in and gathered them in the bathroom, but one guy, Hank, said he wasn't using the pull-up bar, just doing dips on the sink - the truth. The lieutenant just took the torn sheet and left them alone.
After the lieutenant left, Temple, one of the guys doing pull-ups, was mad that Hank tried to leave, even though he wasn't involved. Then Temple got mad that Hank talked to the lieutenant. Hank tried to make Temple understand that what he said had no influence on what the lieutenant did. Then it got more heated and Temple started swinging.
Hank is in anger management class right now and I've talked with him a few times about how, as a Christian, I refuse to fight. I think it's affected him because he just put his hands up and backed away during the fight. Temple kept swinging until he realized he was in front of the camera, then he went back to the bathroom yelling insults at Hank trying to get Hank to fight. Hank kept saying. "Chill out. I don't want to fight you," but Temple just kept going.
A few minutes later it finally settled down and the spectators went back to playing dominoes, muttering how weak Hank is for backing down. In my opinion, it proved that Hank was the better man for not allowing a stupid situation end up in a case for both of them. Prison seems to be primal and backwards, very rarely making much sense. I'm just living the best I can until I leave.
"He that fights and runs away will live to fight another day." Demosthenes
I had a great visit today from a couple of friends from my parents' church. They came once last year and we have been writing each other the whole time I've been in prison. It was really cool to see them. I don't get to talk with solid people older than me other than my parents. It's so good to just hang out, talking about life and plans even if it is over a phone through a glass wall.
I told them about all the recent trouble I've had in the dorm and how it's pretty much gone now. They were encouraged about my plans for school and parole, although I'm still not sure how it will come together. But, if I've learned one thing in the past month, it's that God looks after His children.
It has been such a blessing to have friends who continue to keep in contact with me. I love hearing how things are going out there. I was humbled by all the love shown to me through letters and cards on my birthday last week and I pray that God returns it all to everyone in blessings of their own.
