This morning I was summoned to the Administration Building, where Counselor Wesson had a set of papers ready for me to sign for my parole venue transfer to Albuquerque. There was an urgent air about the process, Office Wesson had even cancelled her office hours at the dorm in order to take care of it. After I signed the papers she said “I have to get these up to the Captain, he’s waiting.” I wonder if the undue importance given my transfer request transcended my sister’s letter, and has to do with the interest generated in my case by the blog. If this is true, and she is reading this then, Warden Lori DiCarlo, THANK-YOU you’re wonderful! There are some good, smart, responsive people in the system and you’re one of them.
After signing, I moseyed on over, with trepidation, to R & R to deal with the infamous Sergeant Erickson and pick up the 8 books sent by my friend Ellen. My fears were happily unfounded, in fact, Sergeant Erickson was so cordial I have to wonder if Counselor Wesson hadn’t repeated my “Are you a Democrat or Republican” story to higher-ups, and whether the Sergeant didn’t get a subsequent phone call. He even mentioned “our little misunderstanding.” I did not challenge his characterization, in fact was almost touched that he observed (without sarcasm) “You’re an educated guy, aren’t you?” as he passed me, among other tomes, Bill Clinton’s autobiography, the 9/11 commission report and Noam Chomsky’s latest uber-leftist-intellectual treatise. I was even asked to report back to the Sergeant any “good stuff” in Clinton’s biography, a clear reference to his liaison with Ms. Lewinsky. Right, I’m really going to stop by and detail how many blow-jobs were received in the Oval Office.
The uncommon sight referred to by the title of this entry would be that of my trekking down the road from R & R to Redwood dormitory with no less that 8 books in my arms, (all wonderful choices, thank-you Ellen.) This is a woman with 4 children, count ‘em 4. The time and care taken, not to mention the generosity, touch me deeply.
I had to camp on the steps of my dorm awaiting unlock. and was the object of intense interest by several of my dormmates, similarly locked out. One, Cutty, who I have previously described in this blog as pathologically charming, questioned me about the Noam Chomsky book, and when I tried to describe Chomsky’s politics, interrupted me to ask for an elaboration of the meaning of “leftist.” I made sure not to betray my amazement that such a basic concept had no meaning for him. (There are no stupid questions.) Instead, I matter of factly explained the origins of “left “and “right” in the seating arrangement of the first French Revolutionary Assembly, and more currently, describing the U.S. Liberal/Conservative dichotomy.
When we got inside, Cutty asked if he could “check out” the book, but he quietly returned it soon after a brief perusal. Hell, it’s challenging for me. (I have to share an anecdote about Cutty. He had heard that I had enlisted the aid of my sister Erica in obtaining a pen pal for another black inmate, Carolina. It was Cutty’s opinion that anyone who’d write to a prisoner was “crazy.” Go figure)
In the middle of this bookfest, a Paisa (Mexican) bumped into a young African-American, evidently a Crip with a chip on his shoulder. From what I heard from some of the black O.G.’s (which used to stand for “Old Guard,” now “Original Gangstas”) the Paisa apologized, but it seemed some of the black “youngsters” have been under pressure to “gangbang,” i.e. assert dominance over rival Latinos who largely dominate the drug trade. For an hour or so, things were quite tense in the dorm, groups of blacks and Latinos gathered like blood clots around certain bunk areas, quietly exhibiting shows of force. If the C.O’s noticed, there was no indication of it. They generally stay in their little office for the vast majority of their shifts.
Happily, after a tete-a-tete between the shotcallers for the black and latinos, cooler heads prevailed, and the apology was accepted. Although the tension was uncomfortable, thank God there were no whites involved. If there is trouble between two races, the third race is not expected to be involved or take sides.
I get to go back to my books, and have no need to visit the library from now until November 16th. Neither do several of my neighbors, as I am now the resident librarian. Thanks again Ellen, from me and some of the guys in B Wing, Redwood Hall, California Institute for Men at Chino.
MCO 2004
