(Written November 5, 2004)
I awoke this morning, and Merle handed me a large, oversized home-made birthday card, although I didn’t know that until he told me.
“For me?” I asked.
“Yeah, Jimmy brought it over last night after you fell asleep” (He had learned about my recent birthday a few days ago).
On the cover is a picture of some hands clutching a fortune cookie from which a $20 bill was sticking out, with a headline reading “Imagine Getting More.” Inside it reads “More Street Dreams” As the prison term for outside is “on the streets,” he was wishing me the fulfillment of my dreams upon release.
He signed it “Happy Birthday. Love, Jimmy”
I was of course touched and flattered, and immediately put it up on my locker. I did not go to thank him personally because I was betting he made the very well designed card on the sly, probably telling his buds in “A” wing where he resides that it was for a girlfriend or a relative. When he came over this morning on a pretext of asking Merle something, he saw the card on the locker and was visibly pleased. I told him I was someone who almost exclusively sent home-made cards myself, eschewing store-bought ones, so I was not only touched but impressed. He gave one of his funny flattered looks (he has quite a repertoire of facial expressions) and added: "And I don’t make cards for nobody, not my sister, not my mom, not my friends,” and with that admission sidled away. (He returned later for coffee and heart-burn medication, but then again, half the wing is over here at least once a day for something or other). At breakfast I coined a new word to Earl. “I’m having a passionate Nomance,” I told him. Frankly I don’t know quite what to make of the attention. It’s a fun diversion for the final stretch, as odd as it is anything else.
Yesterday Jimmy started reading my 10-page excerpt from Rhett and Belle a prequel. (5 chapters written) to Gone with the Wind, and so now he just came by showing me a copy he unearthed of Gone with the Wind that he intends to read.
Again, this is not a man who sets off my Gaydar. I think, however, that he is perceptive enough to know when he’s met someone who means it when he tells him he is absolutely capable of self-redemption and a life on the outside that can be a lot more fulfilling and less dangerous than the existences he has fallen into in the past. 90% of what he hears from others is about what he can do in here, from me it’s about what he can be out there. I think he may be infatuated with the vision of his potential self he sees in my eyes.
Unfortunately, if I had to make a bet, it would be that Jimmy will screw up again just as he has many times before, but if I am in a position to help him, and he shows sincerity in wanting to change, I will. For the immediate future (he gets out in 2006), I will be happy to correspond, and if any of you lonely ladies are intrigued, I’ll “hook you up” The man is heterosexual, but as he’s just been locked up a while, he’s not above flirting with gay boys for ego gratification. This gay boy is nibbling the bait, but not swallowing the hook. I know when someone's fishing.
MCO 2004
P.S. The evil Terry sauntered over to my bunk while I was distracted lending a book of essays of E.B. White to an inmate (I’m uncovering the odd literate reader in here). When Terry (the evil one who told Earl he was “full of AIDS” in the library, started fingering my Newsweek, I took it from him and said, “Move on, Terry.” He mumbled, “I was going to borrow something, but I see you’re busy. And I replied “I’m not busy. I just don’t like you,” And as he walked away, just in case he was clueless about the reason for my hostility, added with slow deliberateness “Watch what you say.”
Oooh, I felt so tough….
