Here's Your Sign--"Out of Bounds"

 It's no secret that prisons are surrounded by multiple layers of chain link fences or high walls topped by razor wire. It's a security thing--you know, to keep prisoners in and would be accomplices out. What many people don't realize is that inside the surrounding fences are locations prisoners are not allowed. "Out of Bounds" signs mark these places. Prisoners caught where they aren't supposed to be are subject to "Out of Place" misconduct tickets and sanctions.

Laws function as societal "Out of Bounds" signs. Laws tell citizens what they can and can't do, and they impose sanctions for violating those boundaries. Sometimes those sanctions include prison time, where boundary signs within boundary fences surround violators. It's a bit ironic. 

Most of the time, the law's boundaries need little explanation. Robbing people is bad. Murding people is bad. Raping people is bad. So is cheating on your taxes, but if you have enough money and privilege...well, you might get away with that. The point is that most of us don't need an explanation for why these behaviors are prohibited by law. We have moral compasses that tell us these prohibitions are self-evident. Except when they don't. 

Given the right circumstances, humans can justify just about any behavior. While we're the only species with a moral will, our moral wills are flawed by our propensity to rationalize whatever fits our desires. And rarely do we violate big moral no-nos without priming our justifications with smaller, compounding compromises first. It's just human nature. 

That's why moral formation is so imperative in prison environments. Frankly, it's imperative in schools, homes, churches, and anywhere else that might interrupt the river of humanity heading towards incarceration or moral faillure in America. But teaching morality treads awfully close to teaching religion, so we've stripped that instruction from the very places that could help stave off the moral ruin that lands people in prison. Instead, we teach a strange form of tolerance--the kind that tolerates anything but religion and morality. 

But I digress. 

When our moral compasses get broken through compromises, trauma, or the many ways it can, we must learn to re-establish boundaries in our lives. First, we need someone who can help us learn to recognize compromised thinking and behavior. Then, we need to recognize what causes us to be at risk for those thoughts and behaviors. This is where we place "Out of Bounds" signs in our lives. Finally, we need to establish pre-planned responses for when we approach a boundary sign. 

Recovery groups, like Alcoholics Anonymous and Celebrate Recovery, and relapse prevention plans offer guidance for prisoners (and free citizens!) to re-establish moral boundaries in their lives and to develop appropriate responses. But first, people have to understand they have boundary problems. 

It's no fun being surrounded by razor wire fences and limited by boundary signs. But there's a sense of freedom that comes with properly placed moral boundaries. The consequences of violating those boundaries are much, much harder than learning to live within them--trust me, I should know.

It Takes Eight-to-Twelve Weeks for Delivery of Product Orders in Prison

 Another prisoner recently told me his wife complained to him that she had ordered shoes on the internet four days before and STILL hadn't received them. It made him (and me) laugh, because it struck such a stark contrast between the free world and prison. People in the free world are used to instant (or near instant) gratification. In prison, nothing is instant--except the coffee we can buy. 

Despite (long ago) having the technical capability to digitize prisoners' catalog orders, the Michigan Department of Corrections continues to hand-process every order. For a prisoner to order products from a catalog, the following steps must take place: 

1. The prisoner views the catalog from a handful of approved vendors on his Jpay tablet, or he borrows a print catalog from the block rep in his housing unit. 

2. After deciding what to purchase, the prisoner fills out a paper disbursement form listing the products and prices, calculating the tax, shipping, and final cost. He then turns this disbursement into the prison counselor (usually putting it in a mailbox). 

3. The prison counselor collects disbursements and approves them (or rejects them, if the prisoner ordered unapproved items). S/he then sends the disbursement to the business office for processing. 

4. The prison's business office receives the disbursement and further processes it, adding another approval signature to the disbursement. It is unclear whether the business office processes orders at this point, or if they are sent to the central business office in Lansing, Michigan. Either way, the order is held with other disbursements until the business office achieves some magical number of orders or a certain date is reached. At this point, the disbursement may sit on someone's desk for several weeks. It is common for these catalog orders to be "in process" for more than a month before the prisoner's money is deducted from his prison account. 

5. After the prisoner's money is deducted from his account, the catalog order is sent, with many other orders, to the retailer. It commonly takes 3-4 more weeks for the retailer to enter the order. The retailer may ship the order right away, or it may take another week or two.

6. Finally, the property room receives the prisoner's order, along with dozens of other orders. It takes another few days to a week for the property room to process the order and call the prisoner out to receive it. 

All told, catalog orders in prison take an average of 2-3 months to receive from the date the prisoner places the order. Simply giving prisoners the ability to order products (like shoes, socks, and electronics) from the store kiosk, as they do commissary items, would cut more than a month off the time it takes to receive an order. Sadly, changing the order process would also mean some MDOC jobs are no longer necessary. After all, it must take many hours to process so many catalog orders by hand.

If a vendor is out of stock on an item, or if the prisoner makes a mistake on his order, the process must start over again, sometimes weeks after it began. It's a frustratingly long process that could easily be made more efficient, accurate, and speedy. But who cares, really? We're just prisoners, after all. We can wait. We have no other choice.

Balanced on a Pinhead, and Making Progress

 This morning I walked with a friend on yard as he stopped every couple of laps for a set of leg lifts. We talked about school assignments, about voluntary writing projects, and about how we are growing and maturing in different areas of our lives.

One class we have both taken, especially, has influenced our intentional practice of spiritual disciplines. As we discussed this class and the disciplines we chose as our focus, our conversation shifted into the concept of balance. 

You would think that with all the free time prison affords us that we would find it rather easy to find balance in our lives. But that is simply not the case. Human nature causes us to focus on things that are easy or give us the most pleasure. Some prisoners find that pleasure or ease through working out. Exercise is good for the body and mind, and it helps to pass the time that weighs so heavily on prisoners. It also emphasizes health in a place with little concern for prisoner health. But exercising the body without exercising the mind and spirit leaves one unbalanced. 

Other prisoners, often in an effort to assuage their minds from the guilt they feel over their crimes and the resulting consequences, steep themselves in spirituality or religion. They spend inordinate amounts of time reading the Bible or Quran, praying, involving themselves in group studies, and "discussing" (often arguing) religious points with others. Some also become obsessed with fasting, giving away their possessions, leading religious communities, and collecting and reading religious literature. But exercising the spirit without exercising the mind and body leaves one unbalanced. 

Still more prisoners find validation in the exercise of their minds. They read voraciously, study subjects they find fascinating, and become "experts" in some subjects. Some of these prisoners are highly creative and throw themselves into creative endeavors, such as painting, poetry, music, craft projects, educational pursuits, and inventing. Becoming an "expert" at something in prison has a way of enhancing self-worth and boosting ego. It helps to diminish the sense of worthlessness and purposelessness associated with incarceration. But exercising the mind without exercising the body and spirit leaves one unbalanced. 

A balanced life places the proper amount of emphasis on each of these dimensions of our lives. Exercising the body and focusing on healthy living builds self-respect, diminishes addictive urges, and encourages hope for the future. Spiritual exercise reverences our Creator, encourages moral living, gives us purpose and meaning, and builds foundations for healthy human relationships. Finally, mental exercise broadens the mind, opening up a world of possibilities. It also prepares people for what comes after prison--employment, civic duty, and community engagement. 

Living a balanced life is difficult, whether in prison or out. But if prisoners can learn to balance their lives while incarcerated, they'll more likely maintain that balance after prison. Living a balanced life is like balancing on a pinhead--it requires constant, small adjustments. But like anything else, practice makes easier (not perfect as the idiom goes). As Alcoholics Anonymous teaches, progress, not perfection, is the goal.

Here's to the Old Schools in My Life

 I was standing at the microwave recently, heating up a cup of water for tea, when I was drawn into a funny conversation. 

Turning to me and the young man standing near me, someone said, "Has anyone ever told you guys that you could be father and son? You look a lot alike." 

It had never occurred to me that this young man looked anything like me. He was tall, thin, white, and shaved his head, but otherwise I saw no resemblance. Nevertheless, I was aghast at the suggestion for other reasons. 

"Wait! I'm not old enough to be his father," I protested. Turning to the young man, I asked, "How old are you, anyway?" 

"I'm twenty-six," he replied, grinning.

I performed some quick calculations in my head, and then dropped my head as I realized I was indeed old enough to be his father. I felt old, but not for the first time in prison. 

The first time a young prisoner called me "old school" ("school" for short) was several years ago. I was insulted that time, too, since I was barely forty years old at the time. I remember protesting and asking him also how old he was. When he told me he was nineteen, I felt old then, too. I also felt profoundly sad that this young man was losing such early years of his life to prison. He ought to be in college or pursuing his first career, not wasting his young potential playing poker in prison. 

I feel drawn, at times, to a fatherly compassion for the young men around me. To some, I offer a word of encouragement. Some, I try to warn off destructive behaviors or offer guiding advice. For others with visions of starting their own businesses, I've offered to share my experience with entrepreneurial pursuits. Still others, well, they are just too hard-headed to hear any wisdom from the "old heads." 

I lost my privileges as a father when I came to prison, and it's the greatest loss I've ever experienced. Being a father figure to young men in prison isn't quite the same, but it does feel good to make a difference when I can. So many young men in prison never had a father in their lives. They never had a man teach them right from wrong. They never had a man tell them they could make something of their lives. They never had a man show them how to follow their dreams and tell them they had it in them to achieve those dreams. They've never had a man believe in them before. 

I was fortunate to have that sort of encouragement and motivation from a few men throughout my life. I'm deeply grateful for the difference they made. Dave, Andy, and Walter taught me much during my earliest working years. Marion believed in me when I first started my career (and remained my friend until he sadly died recently). Mike watered the entrepreneurial seed that germinated in my heart, giving me confidence to start my first business. Jim took a big risk on me and has been far more than a business partner to me. Don taught me more about being a man than almost anyone, both through his incredible example and his frequent advice. 

I don't know if I can live up to the status these men hold in my heart and mind, but I hope to. The nickname "old school" might carry a sense of respect with it, and I hope to be worthy of that honor.

Mental Health Crisis Deepens in Prison

 The coronavirus pandemic has caused a global mental health crisis. For total institutions like prisons, where mental health issues are prevalent already, the pandemic has only worsened matters. A significant number of prisoners suffer from mental health issues. These issues include schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, depression, antisocial attitudes, and a host of other mental health challenges. 

Furthermore, many mentally healthy prisoners who spend a decade or more in prison often suffer from some level of institutionalization, another mental health challenge. Isolation, constant stress from the environment, lack of purpose, rigid routines, and many other of prison's normal features lead to institutionalization. 

Since the pandemic has hit prison systems, contributors to poor mental health have increased drastically. Cancelled classes and activities, lack of access to religious communities, rigid enforcement of social isolation, weekly virus testing, schedule disruptions, lack of administrative communication, seemingly random rule changes, and very poor crisis management have only worsened prisoner anxieties. Living in prison is stressful enough, but when a crisis like the pandemic adds immeasurable stressors, prisoners' mental health suffer. 

Recent increases in testing, using the notoriously inaccurate 15-minute rapid test, has only heightened prisoner anxieties. Now, prisoners are tested daily (at some facilities) because of the presence of the B.1.1.7 coronavirus variant. While most prisoners who test positive have no symptoms, they, and anyone who was "close contact" with them, are placed in isolation for two weeks. Close contacts include anyone with whom the infected prisoner spent 15-minutes or more in the prior 48 hours before testing (verified by video surveillance). Since prison is a crowded place, close contact is inevitable for most prisoners. 

While this close contact policy intends to limit the spread of the virus, it is causing significant mental health challenges for prisoners. Anxiety over being "snatched up" and isolated causes prisoners to socially isolate as prevention. Isolation, while helpful for preventing the spread of a virus, only deepens the poor mental health from which many prisoners already suffer. 

Living in constant fear or anxiety is counterproductive to good mental health. Staying in close communication with your incarcerated loved one through emails, letters, and phone calls can help to limit the long-term effects of these mental health challenges. Since anxiety and fear are often caused by the unknown and by anticipation of what MIGHT happen, it may help to encourage your incarcerated loved one to cultivate a positive outlook that sees these challenges as temporary. Acknowledge prisoners' realities, but encourage positive mental focuses. Prayer and meditation also helps. 

A positive mental focus is good for prisoners, regardless of pandemic stress, but until the pandemic passes and personal visits, classes, and social activities resume for prisoners, you might be the only thing keeping your incarcerated loved one from losing his or her mind.