It amazes me how it takes a crisis for us to realize what is really important in our lives. The coronavirus is forcing families to spend more time together, and many families are spending quality time with each other for the first time in years. True, the inability to get away from each other has some drawbacks too. Sadly, domestic violence cases are up by almost 50%, and I'm sure, tragically, incidents of abuse are up as well. But the good part of social isolation is that you get to focus on what's right in front of you.
When someone is arrested and sent to prison, they experience a profound sense of loss because of the social isolation they are forced into. This coronavirus forces families to spend more time together. Prison's social isolation drives families apart. The irony is that after being sentenced to prison time, many prisoners realize that the most important people in their lives were right in front of them the whole time. They gain a new appreciation for their loved ones, not because they are forced to spend time together, but because they are forced to spend time apart.
Some citizens are protesting around the country because they feel the government has stripped them of their autonomy and have mandated excessive restrictions. A month or two in semi-quarantine has proven too hard for many people. I get it. But I also doubt they'd make it in prison. I've been in social isolation now for more than eleven years. I can't go play golf, go to the beach or movies, plant flowers in my yard, spend time with people I love, or a host of other things people are itching to be able to do. True, I committed a crime, and these citizens did not. But the point is that social isolation often negatively affects peoples' mental health. We are not meant to live in isolation. We need the interaction of healthy social relationships to thrive.
Prisoners are not isolated from other people in general. In fact, prison can feel very crowded sometimes. That's why pandemics like the coronavirus are so dangerous in prison. However, even in the midst of a crowd, most prisoners feel a profound sense of isolation. They are quarantined from people they love and places that are familiar. The fear of what the virus is doing to people we love outside of prison and what it may do if it sweeps through the prisons we're in only heightens the mental anguish of social isolation.
But, it's not all bad news. The prison I'm in, for instance, has a wonderful group of people (we call them "outside members") who normally come in for our Monday night church service and others who come in to lead other relgious services. Because of our quarantine, these people, who are like family, cannot come in. We miss them terribly. Nevertheless, while they are not able to enter the prison, a group of prisoners have stepped up to assume leadership roles in the church. A handful of us, many from the Calvin Prison Initiative, utilize the training we've received in church leadership, sharing service planning and preaching duties. Sure, our service times are shorter, and services have been split to reduce the number of people congregating, but we make it work. It challenges us to put theory into practice. It's beautiful to see these men use their gifts to serve others.
Nobody knows how much longer this virus crisis will alter our lives. Yet, if we take nothing but a renewed knowledge about what is really important in this life away from our times of isolation, we will still come out ahead. Learn to cherish the time you have together with your family, even if forced, for some of us are isolated away from those we love.
Monday, April 27, 2020
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Bring Me Your Torch--It's Time to Go
Every Wednesday night I check out of prison for a little bit and join the competitors on the television show Survivor. I've been watching Survivor for most of the 40 seasons, and I still love watching the physical battles, social scheming, and mental exhaustion. Inevitably, my favorite player changes two or three times every season, especially when he or she is voted off the island. Even still, I keep on watching.
One of the highlights for the players occurs somewhere around two-thirds of the way through each season. It's called "Family Day." The players that are still left in the game are "surprised" by visits from one of their loved ones, and the emotions from players and their loved ones are truly moving. In all but the current season, the players then must compete for an opportunity for an extended visit with their loved one (this season it was families and everyone got extended visits). Those who lose say "goodbye" and sadly leave their loved ones again until after the season is over.
This week as I watched "Family Day," it occurred to me that the Survivor players have visceral reactions to reuniting with their loved ones after only a month or two away from each other. Granted, for many people that long away from people you love is torture. Yet, they willingly leave their loved ones for an opportunity at a large cash prize. One of the reasons these family visits are so important is because in the game of Survivor you can't trust anyone. Even allies and friendship are shadowed by mistrust and toxic competitiveness. Who's lying and who's planning blindsides? It's hard to tell, and that's why loved ones, people you can trust implicitly, are so important.
You've probably figured out by now that I see a parallel between Survivor and prison. There are major differences, of course. At the end of Survivor, a winner goes home with a big check. At the end of a prison sentence, you go home with basically nothing. Also, in Survivor the other players are only metaphorically trying to stab you in the back. In prison, well, the shanking has a little more "steel" to it. But I digress. Back to Family Day.
When prisoners get visits from loved ones, there are usually hugs, and sometimes a tear or two. The emotive expressions might be more muted, but the inner joy and sense of safety are just as real. There are no tropical beach locations and a catered meal to share with loved ones like in Survivor, but even crowded visiting rooms and vending machine food can't steal the joy of a prison visit. That little bit of time away from the reality of prison re-energizes and re-focuses many prisoners.
During this coronavirus quarantine, prisoners are stuck on the "island" without "Family Day." Honestly, it sucks. We don't know how long this will last, but we know it'll eventually end. We'll get our Family Day again. There might be a few more tears than normal, and the hugs will probably last a bit longer. It'll be nice to step away from the "game" for a little while, but what we'd all like to do, especially now while the coronavirus threatens to harm our families and sweep through prisons, is leave the island altogether.
One of the highlights for the players occurs somewhere around two-thirds of the way through each season. It's called "Family Day." The players that are still left in the game are "surprised" by visits from one of their loved ones, and the emotions from players and their loved ones are truly moving. In all but the current season, the players then must compete for an opportunity for an extended visit with their loved one (this season it was families and everyone got extended visits). Those who lose say "goodbye" and sadly leave their loved ones again until after the season is over.
This week as I watched "Family Day," it occurred to me that the Survivor players have visceral reactions to reuniting with their loved ones after only a month or two away from each other. Granted, for many people that long away from people you love is torture. Yet, they willingly leave their loved ones for an opportunity at a large cash prize. One of the reasons these family visits are so important is because in the game of Survivor you can't trust anyone. Even allies and friendship are shadowed by mistrust and toxic competitiveness. Who's lying and who's planning blindsides? It's hard to tell, and that's why loved ones, people you can trust implicitly, are so important.
You've probably figured out by now that I see a parallel between Survivor and prison. There are major differences, of course. At the end of Survivor, a winner goes home with a big check. At the end of a prison sentence, you go home with basically nothing. Also, in Survivor the other players are only metaphorically trying to stab you in the back. In prison, well, the shanking has a little more "steel" to it. But I digress. Back to Family Day.
When prisoners get visits from loved ones, there are usually hugs, and sometimes a tear or two. The emotive expressions might be more muted, but the inner joy and sense of safety are just as real. There are no tropical beach locations and a catered meal to share with loved ones like in Survivor, but even crowded visiting rooms and vending machine food can't steal the joy of a prison visit. That little bit of time away from the reality of prison re-energizes and re-focuses many prisoners.
During this coronavirus quarantine, prisoners are stuck on the "island" without "Family Day." Honestly, it sucks. We don't know how long this will last, but we know it'll eventually end. We'll get our Family Day again. There might be a few more tears than normal, and the hugs will probably last a bit longer. It'll be nice to step away from the "game" for a little while, but what we'd all like to do, especially now while the coronavirus threatens to harm our families and sweep through prisons, is leave the island altogether.
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Calls for Reduction in Prison Population Aims to Protect Residents
As of Easter Sunday, the Michigan Department of Corrections is reporting a total of nine prisoner deaths from COVID-19. Recent articles published in the Detroit Free Press have criticized the department's response to the virus, indicating that it continued to move infected prisoners around the state, failed to adequately provide cleaning supplies, quarantined some infected prisoners so that they had no access to phones or JPay kiosks to keep in touch with family, and more. Undoubtedly, the department has failed in some ways, but they continue to work hard to respond appropriately to this unprecedented pandemic.
The reality is that prisons are dangerous places to be when a hidden killer spreads like wildfire in places where large numbers of people congregate. Prisons are nearly impossible to run for any extended period of time without prisoners gathering or being "herded" through chow lines. Hundreds of prisoners share bathroom facilities, email kiosks, phones, door handles, and more. These incidental contact opportunities are all ripe with the risk of spreading infection. The only answer is to reduce the number of prisoners housed in each prison.
Prisoner advocacy organizations, like American Friends Service Committee, Detroit Justice Center, MI-CURE, Michigan Prisoner Rehabilitation Credit Act, Michigan Protection and Advocacy Service, Nation Outside, and others are advocating on behalf of Michigan's prisoners to propose solutions to the governor's office. While some of the actions they call for may seem outlandish, it serves to reason that many prisoners would be safer outside of prison during this pandemic. Low hanging fruit, ripe for action by the governor, include immediately releasing prisoners who have already received paroles but are awaiting their release date, those who are medically frail, those who are past or within 6-12 months of their earliest release date, and non-violent offenders, including technical violators.
Releasing these prisoners would immediately reduce the number of prisoners in Michigan by at least 5,000 prisoners, if not more. It won't be a solution for those left inside, but it will reduce incidental contact and exposure for us. So called violent prisoners, especially those who have served 20 years or more, are also some of the least likely to recidivate if released, so the governor has an unprecedented opportunity to reduce the number of prisoners serving long indeterminate sentences.
Whatever happens in the weeks and months to come, the coronavirus pandemic provides lawmakers with an opportunity to drastically reduce Michigan's burgeoning $2.2 billion corrections budget and to fix sentencing issues that have resulted in Michigan's reputation for the longest average sentences in the Midwest. It shouldn't take a pandemic for lawmakers to act, but since we're here now, let's take the opportunity to correct many of these issues. It's going to take innovative and courageous action for our state to recover economically when this is all over. Decreasing the state's spending on over-incarceration just makes sense as a place to start.
We can't stop the destruction this virus is causing, but the legislature and governor have a duty to protect Michigan's citizens, as much as possible, from unnecessary exposure to the virus' destruction--including prisoners. Releasing as many prisoners as can be done safely is not just smart, it's responsible governing.
The reality is that prisons are dangerous places to be when a hidden killer spreads like wildfire in places where large numbers of people congregate. Prisons are nearly impossible to run for any extended period of time without prisoners gathering or being "herded" through chow lines. Hundreds of prisoners share bathroom facilities, email kiosks, phones, door handles, and more. These incidental contact opportunities are all ripe with the risk of spreading infection. The only answer is to reduce the number of prisoners housed in each prison.
Prisoner advocacy organizations, like American Friends Service Committee, Detroit Justice Center, MI-CURE, Michigan Prisoner Rehabilitation Credit Act, Michigan Protection and Advocacy Service, Nation Outside, and others are advocating on behalf of Michigan's prisoners to propose solutions to the governor's office. While some of the actions they call for may seem outlandish, it serves to reason that many prisoners would be safer outside of prison during this pandemic. Low hanging fruit, ripe for action by the governor, include immediately releasing prisoners who have already received paroles but are awaiting their release date, those who are medically frail, those who are past or within 6-12 months of their earliest release date, and non-violent offenders, including technical violators.
Releasing these prisoners would immediately reduce the number of prisoners in Michigan by at least 5,000 prisoners, if not more. It won't be a solution for those left inside, but it will reduce incidental contact and exposure for us. So called violent prisoners, especially those who have served 20 years or more, are also some of the least likely to recidivate if released, so the governor has an unprecedented opportunity to reduce the number of prisoners serving long indeterminate sentences.
Whatever happens in the weeks and months to come, the coronavirus pandemic provides lawmakers with an opportunity to drastically reduce Michigan's burgeoning $2.2 billion corrections budget and to fix sentencing issues that have resulted in Michigan's reputation for the longest average sentences in the Midwest. It shouldn't take a pandemic for lawmakers to act, but since we're here now, let's take the opportunity to correct many of these issues. It's going to take innovative and courageous action for our state to recover economically when this is all over. Decreasing the state's spending on over-incarceration just makes sense as a place to start.
We can't stop the destruction this virus is causing, but the legislature and governor have a duty to protect Michigan's citizens, as much as possible, from unnecessary exposure to the virus' destruction--including prisoners. Releasing as many prisoners as can be done safely is not just smart, it's responsible governing.
Monday, April 6, 2020
We're All Doing Level Four Time
It's been a few years now since I've been in a level four prison. Generally, to be in a level four, a prisoner must have more than seven years on his sentence (after 2-3 years, he reduces levels) or must have earned enough misconduct tickets to raise his security level. Sometimes, a single incident--usually a fight or assault--can raise one's security level to the more restrictive level four or even level five.
Level four prisons are more restrictive than level twos (Michigan no longer has a level three). All movement is controlled, and generally, prisoners spend as much as 21-23 hours a day in their cells. Other than mealtimes and mandatory callouts, prisoners are only allowed an hour of yard time, and sometimes another hour of small yard time right outside their housing unit. Because men in level four prisons are locked down so much, they have even devised a "level four shuffle." During movement to and from chow, and sometimes even to other callouts, prisoners will shuffle slowly, extending their time outside of their cells.
Because prisoners in higher security level prisons spend so much time in their cells, they devise creative ways to stay busy. Many prisoners have televisions, but one can only watch so much TV. Reading is a good option too, but that also gets boring after a while. So, necessity breeds invention, and some prisoners are extremely inventive.
Some level four and five activities include:
* Writing stories and books (usually handwritten)
* Learning to draw, paint, or crochet--this requires spending money on hobby craft items
* Creating gift items to sell--I've seen beautiful jewelry boxes made from craft sticks, model cars made from cardboard and found objects, picture frames made from pebbles, and even purses made from Ramen noodle wrappers!
* Learning to play an instrument--this is tricky since our options are very limited, essentially to ukeleles and harmonicas. I'm fortunate, now that I'm in a level two prison to be able to learn to play the guitar using a loaner guitar from the class I'm in
* Creating unique recipes with limited food options--this sometimes requires a contraband "stinger," which is used to heat food using tap water, salt, and the stinger, a homemade heating coil.
* Developing (and using) an in-cell workout routine
* Learning new card games--especially if you're housed with a bunkie
These are just a few of the creative activities prisoners have been using for years during their times of forced isolation (social distancing). Level two (and level one) time in prison is much less restrictive, giving prisoners more options of ways to spend their time.
In a few months the coronavirus will have lost its grip on the world, and people will be returning back to their busy lives. And when you do, remember the boredom you felt during your own isolation. Remember the sense of uselessness you felt, the "itch" to DO something. Remember feeling without purpose and like your life is on hold. Whether it's time in a restrictive security level four or a less restrictive level, that's what doing time in prison feels like every day, especially when confined to a closet-sized cell.
Level four prisons are more restrictive than level twos (Michigan no longer has a level three). All movement is controlled, and generally, prisoners spend as much as 21-23 hours a day in their cells. Other than mealtimes and mandatory callouts, prisoners are only allowed an hour of yard time, and sometimes another hour of small yard time right outside their housing unit. Because men in level four prisons are locked down so much, they have even devised a "level four shuffle." During movement to and from chow, and sometimes even to other callouts, prisoners will shuffle slowly, extending their time outside of their cells.
Because prisoners in higher security level prisons spend so much time in their cells, they devise creative ways to stay busy. Many prisoners have televisions, but one can only watch so much TV. Reading is a good option too, but that also gets boring after a while. So, necessity breeds invention, and some prisoners are extremely inventive.
Some level four and five activities include:
* Writing stories and books (usually handwritten)
* Learning to draw, paint, or crochet--this requires spending money on hobby craft items
* Creating gift items to sell--I've seen beautiful jewelry boxes made from craft sticks, model cars made from cardboard and found objects, picture frames made from pebbles, and even purses made from Ramen noodle wrappers!
* Learning to play an instrument--this is tricky since our options are very limited, essentially to ukeleles and harmonicas. I'm fortunate, now that I'm in a level two prison to be able to learn to play the guitar using a loaner guitar from the class I'm in
* Creating unique recipes with limited food options--this sometimes requires a contraband "stinger," which is used to heat food using tap water, salt, and the stinger, a homemade heating coil.
* Developing (and using) an in-cell workout routine
* Learning new card games--especially if you're housed with a bunkie
These are just a few of the creative activities prisoners have been using for years during their times of forced isolation (social distancing). Level two (and level one) time in prison is much less restrictive, giving prisoners more options of ways to spend their time.
In a few months the coronavirus will have lost its grip on the world, and people will be returning back to their busy lives. And when you do, remember the boredom you felt during your own isolation. Remember the sense of uselessness you felt, the "itch" to DO something. Remember feeling without purpose and like your life is on hold. Whether it's time in a restrictive security level four or a less restrictive level, that's what doing time in prison feels like every day, especially when confined to a closet-sized cell.
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