Today I did something—or rather did not do something—unexpected. After the morning bathroom clean-up, I went back to sleep. This is not strange, but I usually sleep very lightly, (although sometimes I dream that I am sleeping very lightly, and am actually sleeping soundly. It’s as annoying and unrestful as it sounds). In any event, I am always awake by the 11:00 am bell that sounds the second morning clean-up, which is blessedly pretty quick and less thorough than the 8am clean-up.
This morning, I awoke from a dream about reading The New York Times in which bizarrely, all the articles were about the rock group Aerosmith. I proceeded to the clean-up closet while putting on my latex gloves, and found it locked. I walked to the guard booth to see the clock and discovered it was 12:00 noon. Oops! As I searched out “Woods,” my boss and sometime nemesis, I joked to myself what we often joke here ‘what’s he going to do, throw me in jail?’
I found Woods talking to a buddy, and he immediately said to me “I took care of it.” I responded “You should have woken me up” and he replied “You were sleeping. I took care of it.” So I sincerely thanked him, adding, “I owe you one.” As I walked away, I thought to myself that sometimes people really surprise you. I thought how important it was to let them surprise you. Had I approached Woods defensively, our exchange could have gone in another direction completely.
I started thinking of the people who have surprised me in here. There was a C.O. at Birch; tall, black and particularly dark-skinned. When he smiled a bright white smile, it seems to work in tandem with the whites of his eyes, and he just emanated a Denzel Washington-in-“Training-Day”- malevolence. This impression was exacerbated by Renee, a black drag queen who pronounced him “evil, evil, that one.” Renee started out as a great pal; we both knew the soundtrack to Funny Girl by heart and would find ourselves singing “Sadie Sadie, Married Lady” together while we washed out some underwear. Renee however was hypersensitive, and when I got impatient with the plodding technique she used to teach me pinochle, turned cold to me forever after. (For my part, I taught Renee about the Stonewall Riots, which began gay liberation back in 1969.) In any event, the first time this tall, dark C.O. (I forgot his name) did the rounds at Birch, I was prepared for sarcasm and rudeness, focused, as I imagined it, principally on the blacks. I don’t know what run-in he’d had with Renee, but his innocuous behavior simply confirmed how easily she took offense. This was one of the friendliest and funniest C.O.’s I’ve experienced while in prison, before or since. I can’t remember that I ever had an exchange with him, but I certainly watched him banter back and forth, with no trace of venom, with a host of inmates, and it was clear there was nothing to be afraid of.
Another example is Jimmy, the “keeper of the keys” here i.e. the Head of the Whites. I can’t say his manner intimidated me at the outset, but his job title oozed the likelihood of a philosophy of homophobic Aryan supremacy. But Jimmy is over here three or four times a day, as playful as a dolphin with Earl and I. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and happily is in a position to do so. I could actually tell him without hesitation to get pictures done and audition for the soaps when he gets out, because he is devilishly handsome. He was completely comfortable with the compliment, although I despair that he will follow my advice. He tells me that he has spent 14.5 of his last 15 years in prison. I find this hard to believe, but it is certainly possible. What is even more surprising is that he is eating up my New Yorkers, and is currently reading my copy of Noam Chomsky’s “The Hegemony of Survival.” Go figure.
The surprise that trumped all surprises was my sister Sandra. We came perilously close to a complete rupture, soon after my imprisonment. Slowly but surely, though, I think we both allowed each other out of the boxes we had kept each other in for many years. In this case, the surprise was life-changing, for both of us.
Of course, if you allow yourself to be surprised, you need to be prepared for the flip side of the unexpected, disappointment. Anyone who reads some of my recent poetry can well imagine this had been the case for me. I’m supposed to say “his loss” and get over it. I submit that this is a worthy goal that has been made somewhat more challenging by my present circumstances.
Relief is around the corner, I just hope I can take my own advice, and when surprise shows up at the door, I will always be able to let it in.
MCO 2004
