Is there Air Conditioning in Michigan Prisons?

 It's summer in prison, and contrary to some popular myths, Michigan prisons do not have air conditioning. Yes, there are a few classrooms and administrative offices with that coveted cooling, but not prisoner cells or common areas. 

Today was another day with heat indexes approaching 100 degrees (F). It's not ideal, that's for sure, especially when you live in a concrete and brick building that holds heat and humidity. Prison systems are not designed with the comfort of people in mind, either prisoners or corrections officers.

So, I wake up sleeping on top of my sheets on my prison bunk, grateful for the 8" fan I've purchased for $40 plus shipping and tax. It's one of the best purchases I've made in prison. I've placed my Scrabble board box across my toilet seat next to my bed and placed my fan there to get it as close to me as possible. 

The humidity is thick in the unit, even at 5:15 AM, so I brush my teeth, wash my face, and finish my morning routines before I put on a shirt and socks to go to breakfast. I keep rotating my fan to point at me, depending on where I'm standing or sitting in my cell. 

After breakfast, I head to work in the Vocational Village as an employment readiness tutor. I'm fortunate to work in a classroom that just recently got air conditioning. It works, most of the time anyway. It's a brief reprieve from the oppressive heat, even if that reprieve is only in the morning. 

After work, I try to exercise before the day gets too hot. Right after lunch, the prison is likely to call a heat alert and stop us from exercising, so I have to get it in early. Even exercising in the morning, though, requires attention to hydration since it's so hot and humid already. It's not like I can cool off in the AC after a run or lifting weights. 

Returning to my housing unit, I have to let my fan cool me for a few minutes before I head to the shower. I can't change the water temperature, so I have to take a hot shower when I'm already hot and sweaty. Again, prisoner comfort isn't a top priority. I sit in front of my fan again after my shower to cool off as best I can. 

After lunch my afternoon is free, so I read for a while, again sitting in front of my fan to stay as cool as possible. I'm so grateful for my fan, and I feel bad for prisoners who can't afford one. They must be miserable and suffering in their own cells. Fans are a hot commodity "on the street" (buying from other prisoners, despite it being against the rules). They command a pretty penny in the summer and the risk of having them confiscated is high. For some, it's worth the risk.

At dinner, the heat and humidity in the chow hall is oppressive. I don't know how the workers do it. I'm grateful they work in the kitchen so I don't have to. When I'm finished eating, I head out to facilitate an addiction recovery group. The building is "cooled" but not exactly air conditioned. Well, one room is, but it's not guaranteed we'll be put in that room. When we are, I'm grateful. 

Two-plus hours later, I'm back in front of my fan. I feel tethered to it during these hot days, but not much is important enough to keep me from it. The sun's gone down, but the humidity hasn't. At least it'll cool down into the low 70s tonight before heading back to near 100 (F) again. It could be worse. 

I'll never take air conditioning for granted again.

Why is Michigan's Prison System Called a Department of "Corrections"?

 A few weeks ago, a buddy of mine (JT) was in the prison chow hall about to sit down when an officer told him he couldn't do something he was doing or was about to do. JT responded, "Is that a rule?" He didn't understand why he was being corrected for something that was not breaking the rules. 

Another officer standing by piped in and said, "You've been in prison long enough to know, we make up our own rules." JT was obviously unhappy about this statement, especially given the truth of it. Prisoners are expected to follow the rules, but then officers (and often administrators) make up rules when it's convenient. They also flout their own rules openly and without any consequences. 

This morning, another buddy of mine (ST) had a unique callout on his itinerary. It didn't say what the callout was for, just that it was in the gym at the same time we normally have our gym time. So, he went to the gym in his shorts and t-shirt, but he was stopped at the door. 

"Why aren't you wearing your blues?" the officer asked brusquely, referring to our prison "dress" clothes. ST replied that the callout said nothing about wearing blues and, in fact, said very little about what the callout was for. 

"I don't care," replied the officer. "I said you have to wear blues, so you have to wear blues. Go back to your unit." Without arguing, ST returned to our housing unit, but did not go back to the callout. It said nothing about being mandatory. 

The problem is that some callouts specify, "Wear State Blues" or "Mandatory callout." Others say nothing of the sort, so it leaves us prisoners unsure of what is required and when. There's no consistency in application of the rules we do have, let alone when officers decide to make up rules. 

Prisons, like any other institution, need rules to run efficiently and effectively. But when officers or administrators decide to make up random rules and enforce them randomly and inconsistently, it leads to chaos. It also leads to prisoners increasing their resistance towards authorities, because those authorities abuse their power and maintain a double standard for themselves. These don't seem like good outcomes for a prison environment. 

I'm not an expert in prison operations, but common sense says that if you're going to punish people for breaking the law, you ought to teach them the importance of following the rules. You do this through proper modeling (officers following the rules guiding their own behavior), through consistent application of rules, and through following proper protocol in setting rules in the first place. 

Unfortunately, Michigan's prison system is reactive and retaliatory instead of proactive and just. Its a "do as I say, not as I do" approach to corrections. Now, why do we call this system "corrections"?

Learning Life Lessons from an Elderly Prisoner

 One of the major misconceptions the public often has about prisoners is that we are all weight pit junkies, spending a bunch of our free time lifting iron. The reality is that the vast majority of prisoners are lazy and out of shape, and they'd rather work out their jaws than their bodies. Even the gangs lack the discipline they used to have. I rarely see unified workouts anymore, when they used to be commonplace. 

My housing unit has roughly 350 prisoners, and I would guess around 10% exercise with any sort of regularity. Maybe another 10% exercise sporadically...occasionally when the weather's nice. The rest would be hard pressed to do 10 pushups or even walk for 20 minutes. 

I have exercised fairly regularly for the last 16 years, for two primary reasons. First, it helps me stay healthy in a place where the healthcare is third-world quality. Michigan's prison healthcare is rarely interested in ensuring the health and welfare of prisoners. 

My second reason is for the mental health benefits. I find regular exercise keeps my anxiety at bay and increases my motivation, energy, and positive feelings. I'm also inspired by the dedication of others who make their health a priority. 

For example, last week, I was in the gym using dumbbells in one of my workout routines. Most of the men in the gym were the same two dozen or so from various housing units. Some were petaling away on bikes or rowing on the row machines. Others were on the gym floor with jump ropes, ab wheels, and pushup equipment. 

In between my sets, I noticed the same old man I'd seen many other times come into the gym, wheel his rolling walker with seat over to the weight rack, and choose a couple of 5 or 10 pound dumbbells. Then, he wheeled himself over to a bench and proceeded to do some unconventional exercises. It mattered little what he was doing, though. I was just impressed that he was doing anything, given his age. 

"Excuse me, sir," I said approaching him. "Do you mind me asking how old you are?" He smiled and said, "Eighty-six. How old are you?" I told him my age and that I was inspired by his commitment to staying healthy. "I'm Bryan, by the way," I said. "Joe," he replied as he shook my hand. 

Other elderly men are also regularly in the gym, including a friend of mine who is seventy-five, but Joe is especially inspiring. As is sometimes said in prison, he's doing time, not letting time do him. He refuses to simply sit around and play cards and drink coffee, or congregate with other prisoners commiserating about our conditions. Instead, he makes the best of his situation. 

I don't know if I'll still be exercising at 86, if I make it to that age, but I hope I keep the positive-minded motivation Joe has. He doesn't use his circumstances as an excuse, and neither will I