Every year in Michigan's prisons, a "special" menu is put out for major holidays, including Christmas. The menu is different than the normal chow hall fare--this year the hot dog and beans meal was replaced by the Christmas dinner. The holiday menu included a 4-ounce slice of turkey loaf (think soft turkey roll), 2 ounces of cranberry sauce, cheesy mashed potatoes, green beans, two slices of bread with butter, and a small pumpkin pie square for dessert.
While this food is somewhat different than normal (especially the cranberry sauce, which is served only twice a year), many men in prison prefer to cook their own holiday feast. In my particular housing unit, 240 men are housed, two people per room. The day room, which has seats for 60 people, also has the only microwaves in the unit--three for 240 people. Holiday cook-ups are not your normal ramen noodle fare though. These are large and complicated menus featuring 1.6 qt. bowls, or homemade cardboard boxes, filled to overflowing with rice, noodles, meat sticks, chili, cheese, chips, pickles, jalapeno peppers, and a host of other possible ingredients in myriad combinations. Some men get especially creative, making lasagna, tuna casserole, tortilla wraps, or other recipes, often developed and passed down from prisoner to prisoner.
The day room opens at 5:30 AM, and the microwaves remain busy the entire time the unit is open on holidays. Some of the more complicated cook-ups include six to ten men and take more than an hour or two to make. The more courteous men clean up after themselves, while others leave the mess they make for someone else to clean up. Other men, who may not be able to afford the costly ingredients to make their own cook-up, gather around the microwaves, waiting sometimes more than 30 minutes to simply heat water for a cup of coffee or tea. There are two hotpots in the unit, but the steady stream of prisoners using them, frequently to fill cups or bowls they take right to the microwave, means the water in the pots is often not hot enough for a cup of coffee or tea.
This year, I made a special Christmas cook-up, but not on Christmas. I chose a different day to make two "deep dish pizzas," out of pizza crust kits layered with pasta sauce, spreadable cheese, meat sticks, jalapeno peppers, and tortilla shells, to share with a friend. The break from prison chow hall food is nice, but even nicer is the opportunity to share a few moments of fellowship around food with a friend. Of course, in prison it's impossible to get a moment of peace, so we no sooner sat down than our table was surrounded by men who wanted to try our small creation. Our pizzas several bites smaller now, my friend and I still enjoyed each other's company, along with the company of several other uninvited, but friendly, men. After all, even in prison, food is always a good reason to get together with others.
Wednesday, December 27, 2017
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Peaceful Wishes for Christmas
Christmas is often about joy and peace, and it will forever sadden me that I was the cause of broken peace and stolen joy. So, on this Christmas, I wish those I harmed and all other victims of crime a holiday filled with joy and peace. May God give you the gift of healing.
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 18, 2017
Remembering the Forgotten
By guest poster Bryan Harr (#241912)
In December of 2016, I saw a story on FOX 14 News that touched my heart. One of the caregivers at St. Ann's Home in Grand Rapids, Michigan had posted a comment online about how disheartening it was to watch one of their residents go without any kind of holiday mail. The comment was liked and shared, and St Ann's was soon flooded with mail addressed to the woman. The overwhelming response was reported by FOX 14 News who also mentioned that there were other residents at the facility that rarely received mail, and that St Ann's would welcome letters and cards for them as well.
A friend of mine told me he thought St. Ann's was a small facility that provided care for approximately fifteen people. Based on that misinformation, I wrote a letter to St. Ann's committing to provide each of their residents with a handmade Christmas card each year. One of the facilitators, Sister Gabriela, sent an enthusiastic reply informing me that they had 150 residents at St. Ann's. I admit being completely unprepared for such a number, but I still wanted to honor the commitment I had made--even if I was unsure how.
Soon after, I was admitted into the Calvin Prison Initiative--a joint venture between Calvin College and the Michigan Department of Corrections that offers a select group of prisoners, at Ionia's Handlon Correctional Facility, the opportunity to earn a bachelor's degree in Ministry Leadership. The graduates of this program are meant to use their education to positively influence prison culture. However, even as students, many have begun to look for opportunities to make a difference in the community today. And it is with thanks to those individuals that I was able to honor this year's commitment to St. Ann's. CPI freshmen, sophomores, and juniors alike came together to donate their time and talents to the "Remember the Forgotten" card project, and the result of more than 600 volunteer hours was 150 handmade cards that will be delivered to St. Ann's Life Enrichment Director, Gregg Sanborn, the week of December 17th.
My fellow students have fully embraced "Remember the Forgotten" as an annual responsibility, and many of them are excited to expand the project to include other facilities such as hospitals and shelters. They realize that they can make a difference--even by an act as simple as gifting a card to someone who may otherwise be forgotten.
In December of 2016, I saw a story on FOX 14 News that touched my heart. One of the caregivers at St. Ann's Home in Grand Rapids, Michigan had posted a comment online about how disheartening it was to watch one of their residents go without any kind of holiday mail. The comment was liked and shared, and St Ann's was soon flooded with mail addressed to the woman. The overwhelming response was reported by FOX 14 News who also mentioned that there were other residents at the facility that rarely received mail, and that St Ann's would welcome letters and cards for them as well.
A friend of mine told me he thought St. Ann's was a small facility that provided care for approximately fifteen people. Based on that misinformation, I wrote a letter to St. Ann's committing to provide each of their residents with a handmade Christmas card each year. One of the facilitators, Sister Gabriela, sent an enthusiastic reply informing me that they had 150 residents at St. Ann's. I admit being completely unprepared for such a number, but I still wanted to honor the commitment I had made--even if I was unsure how.
Soon after, I was admitted into the Calvin Prison Initiative--a joint venture between Calvin College and the Michigan Department of Corrections that offers a select group of prisoners, at Ionia's Handlon Correctional Facility, the opportunity to earn a bachelor's degree in Ministry Leadership. The graduates of this program are meant to use their education to positively influence prison culture. However, even as students, many have begun to look for opportunities to make a difference in the community today. And it is with thanks to those individuals that I was able to honor this year's commitment to St. Ann's. CPI freshmen, sophomores, and juniors alike came together to donate their time and talents to the "Remember the Forgotten" card project, and the result of more than 600 volunteer hours was 150 handmade cards that will be delivered to St. Ann's Life Enrichment Director, Gregg Sanborn, the week of December 17th.
My fellow students have fully embraced "Remember the Forgotten" as an annual responsibility, and many of them are excited to expand the project to include other facilities such as hospitals and shelters. They realize that they can make a difference--even by an act as simple as gifting a card to someone who may otherwise be forgotten.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Sleep Deprivation in Prison?
If you had asked me before I came to prison if I thought prisoners got enough sleep, I'd have guessed that prisoners have little else to do but sleep. And yet, after more than eight years in prison, I am astounded by how many prisoners suffer from sleep deprivation.
My first experience with the torturous sleep deprivation of incarceration occurred in the county jail. Everything in jail and prison is regimented, so one would think that sleep would be easy to come by. It is true, after all, that those in the county (especially) and many in prison have little else to do. Yet, I found that in every jail pod and every prison. unit "security lights" are left on all night to ensure the guards can see the prisoners. These security lights are sometimes diminished from the daytime full brightness, but not always. In jail daytime lights are turned on at 6 AM and left on until 10 PM. Most prisons do the same. When prisoners try to cover their heads to block out the light, they are often awoken by deputies (in jail) or guards (in prison) who insist on seeing the prisoners' faces while doing their rounds for "security reasons." Yet, some guards go out of their way to make a prisoner's time as miserable as possible, often waking prisoners unnecessarily.
I remember within days of being in the county jail, I was sound asleep when around 2 AM a deputy banged his flashlight loudly on my cell bars, startling me into a frightened wakefulness. "Yeah?!" I hollered at him. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were alive," he responded. "Of course I'm alive," I replied irritably. "It's in the middle of the night, and I WAS sleeping!" He didn't care. This officer had a reputation for his humiliating treatment of prisoners. He had his fun and moved on, and I laid there with my heart racing from being startled, nursing my anger and hardly able to fall back asleep. This was a regular occurrence, if not to me, then to others in my pod. Either way, most of the pod woke up when a deputy decided to deprive someone of his sleep.
Now, in prison the guards will turn on room lights in the middle of the night to do their count rounds, despite having flashlights to look in the cells. They will still use the flashlights though, often shining them right in a prisoner's face until he is disturbed enough in his sleep to move. I understand that people die in their sleep, sometimes from self-inflicted wounds, but this occurs very rarely and does not precipitate the torturous methods used to deprive prisoners of their sleep on a regular basis
Prison is itself a punishment, but people are sent to prison as punishment, not for punishment. Sleep deprivation techniques such as those used in jails and prisons are just another dehumanizing tool that deputies and guards use to remind prisoners of their power over them. And I'm tired of it...literally.
My first experience with the torturous sleep deprivation of incarceration occurred in the county jail. Everything in jail and prison is regimented, so one would think that sleep would be easy to come by. It is true, after all, that those in the county (especially) and many in prison have little else to do. Yet, I found that in every jail pod and every prison. unit "security lights" are left on all night to ensure the guards can see the prisoners. These security lights are sometimes diminished from the daytime full brightness, but not always. In jail daytime lights are turned on at 6 AM and left on until 10 PM. Most prisons do the same. When prisoners try to cover their heads to block out the light, they are often awoken by deputies (in jail) or guards (in prison) who insist on seeing the prisoners' faces while doing their rounds for "security reasons." Yet, some guards go out of their way to make a prisoner's time as miserable as possible, often waking prisoners unnecessarily.
I remember within days of being in the county jail, I was sound asleep when around 2 AM a deputy banged his flashlight loudly on my cell bars, startling me into a frightened wakefulness. "Yeah?!" I hollered at him. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were alive," he responded. "Of course I'm alive," I replied irritably. "It's in the middle of the night, and I WAS sleeping!" He didn't care. This officer had a reputation for his humiliating treatment of prisoners. He had his fun and moved on, and I laid there with my heart racing from being startled, nursing my anger and hardly able to fall back asleep. This was a regular occurrence, if not to me, then to others in my pod. Either way, most of the pod woke up when a deputy decided to deprive someone of his sleep.
Now, in prison the guards will turn on room lights in the middle of the night to do their count rounds, despite having flashlights to look in the cells. They will still use the flashlights though, often shining them right in a prisoner's face until he is disturbed enough in his sleep to move. I understand that people die in their sleep, sometimes from self-inflicted wounds, but this occurs very rarely and does not precipitate the torturous methods used to deprive prisoners of their sleep on a regular basis
Prison is itself a punishment, but people are sent to prison as punishment, not for punishment. Sleep deprivation techniques such as those used in jails and prisons are just another dehumanizing tool that deputies and guards use to remind prisoners of their power over them. And I'm tired of it...literally.
Thursday, December 7, 2017
The Philosophy of a Reluctant Leader
In the same leadership class I wrote about last week, we were asked to write a final paper reflecting on leadership. I titled my paper, "The Philosophy of a Reluctant Leader" because throughout my life I have often been in leadership positions, but I find myself much more reluctant to volunteer for such positions today. I have a personality that lends itself to natural leadership, and my aspirations in the past have meant that I would pursue leadership opportunities. But after my precipitous fall from grace that led me to prison, I realized the devastation of my fall was multiplied by the negative impact it had on those who I had been leading. And so I became a reluctant leader.
Effective leadership requires two things: high competency and good character. One may have high competence and bad character and be a terrible leader. One may also have good character but lack competence, and, therefore, good leadership skills. Both are required for effective leadership. In the leadership positions I was in before coming to prison, I believe I was a competent leader, but I lacked the good character necessary to be an effective leader, and other people suffered for it when I came to prison. Today, I find myself reluctant to volunteer myself for leadership roles because of my knowledge that my past failures multiplied the damage I caused.
I also find myself somewhat reluctant to lead because two more qualifications of effective leadership are humility and vulnerability. Coming to prison has done a fine job of humbling me (it still is), but vulnerability is hard! Vulnerability requires a certain level of trust, and the longer I spend in prison, the more and more difficult I find it is to trust others. Yet, I know that vulnerability is necessary if I am to use my experiences, failures and successes, to help others heal, to help others avoid the same damaging choices I made. As author Henri Nouwen said in his book on Christian leadership, In the Name of Jesus, "the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self." I know I don't have much else to offer at this point.
My past failures might not disqualify me for some future leadership roles, but I know that effective leadership means having good character, so now I find myself pursuing good character rather than positions of leadership. I believe that leadership roles I am equipped for will naturally follow if I am properly prepared. And if they don't, I'm okay with that now. I no longer feel the need to be a leader, at least for the same reasons I had in the past.
Effective leadership requires two things: high competency and good character. One may have high competence and bad character and be a terrible leader. One may also have good character but lack competence, and, therefore, good leadership skills. Both are required for effective leadership. In the leadership positions I was in before coming to prison, I believe I was a competent leader, but I lacked the good character necessary to be an effective leader, and other people suffered for it when I came to prison. Today, I find myself reluctant to volunteer myself for leadership roles because of my knowledge that my past failures multiplied the damage I caused.
I also find myself somewhat reluctant to lead because two more qualifications of effective leadership are humility and vulnerability. Coming to prison has done a fine job of humbling me (it still is), but vulnerability is hard! Vulnerability requires a certain level of trust, and the longer I spend in prison, the more and more difficult I find it is to trust others. Yet, I know that vulnerability is necessary if I am to use my experiences, failures and successes, to help others heal, to help others avoid the same damaging choices I made. As author Henri Nouwen said in his book on Christian leadership, In the Name of Jesus, "the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self." I know I don't have much else to offer at this point.
My past failures might not disqualify me for some future leadership roles, but I know that effective leadership means having good character, so now I find myself pursuing good character rather than positions of leadership. I believe that leadership roles I am equipped for will naturally follow if I am properly prepared. And if they don't, I'm okay with that now. I no longer feel the need to be a leader, at least for the same reasons I had in the past.
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