Telephone, Telegraph, Tell-a-Prisoner

The other day I was listening to a friend tell a story of when he first came to prison and how he was astounded at how quickly word spreads in prison. Another guy standing with us listening to the story said, 'Telephone, telegraph, tell-a-prisoner'. I found this very funny and ironically accurate. 

Women are often regarded by society as the primary carriers of gossip, but my experience in prison reveals that men are at least as likely,if not more likely, to whisper some juicy news they've heard. 

As is most gossip, I have found that prison gossip is usually very unreliable. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that 'good time' laws were passed (they weren't), that the parole board 'must' release '10,000' prisoners by such-and-such a time because of some lawsuit won (there was no suit), or that so-and-so is a rat (told by a guy who likely talks freely with the police himself). 

The fact is, gossip is rarely reliable. It might tell you some of the story, but not all of it, or it might be like that pass-the-message game we played as kids and get to you completely backwards. 

Now when I hear a rumor, I take the advice I was given shortly after coming to prison: Believe nothing you hear, and only half of what you see."

A cheerful word

Finally, winter's icy grip gives way and spring yields a sunny day, warm by recent standards, but one which we'll consider cold within a few months. 

I think I'll take advantage of the weather and go for a walk with my buddy Tom. I leave my unit when yard opens after dinner and head next door to get Tom from his unit. 

Since I'm not allowed in a unit that's not mine, I wait for another inmate who is entering the unit and I ask him to get my friend. This "door call" as it's called, is the prisoner equivalent of a text or ring of the doorbell. A low tech solution in a no-tech world. 

"Let's go!" Tom says emerging from the unit already anticipating it's me and why I'm "calling."
We head out back to walk the track now that the winter mess has dried out enough to clear up the mud.

We walk at a brisk pace, combining exercise with conversation. Other prisoners also walk or run on the track while a few do pull-ups, bear crawls, or other calisthenics to stay in shape. 

We leave the track a couple of miles later and head out to walk around the entire compound. it's an opportunity to greet other prisoners we know and strengthen unlikely friendships with men from many different backgrounds.

The warm spring day has many prisoners outside enjoying the escape from winter's long incarceration. Some men gather around picnic tables playing dominoes, some gather in small groups sharing stories of days gone by - in prison and out, some play handball or softball, and others tend the flowers and landscaping. 

In a place this depressing a cheerful word or a brightly colored flower might bring a smile to the face of someone who otherwise has nothing to live for.

It might not be much, but as Tom and I walk, we try to give that cheerful word, praying it makes a difference in even one man's life. It might just be that spark that kindles a fire of hope in the heart of someone who has given up on life. 

In the meantime, as we walk, we find our own hope growing stronger. It's the inevitable fruit of planting hope in the lives of others.