Some people in prison are given a prison name. It’s sort of like a “street” name. It’s a sign of acceptance or, sometimes, of infamy. The origins of some prison names are mysterious, even for their owners. Others are imposed, but not welcomed.
“Guns,” for example, is a twenty-two year old African-American. He’s a tough kid, and one of my friends. He comes by my cell every day. I asked him why he’s called “Guns.” He said he isn’t proud of it, but he told me about his past. It’s strange hearing a twenty-two year old speak of having “a past.” He asked me not to call him “Guns,” anymore. If I call him Joseph, he said, it might catch on.
Sometimes prisoners brag about their crimes, but Joseph spoke of his past in furtive tones, with occasional glances to see if I looked horrified. He spoke with a mixture of honesty and shame, as though he found it painful that I should know these things about him. “I was just a kid then, on the streets,” he pleaded. “I’m different now.”
I think it’s a good sign that Joseph feels shame for his crime and that he hopes for a future different from his past. His remorse speaks well of him. He ended by asking if I’m still his friend after knowing these things. “Yes,” I said. “That’s part of your penance.” Joseph laughed.
Some of my other friends here also have prison names. There’s “Biggie,” “Butch,” “Chico, “Chino,” “Digs,” “Pookey,” “Ponch,” and “Stax.” Then there are names like “Mikey Goggles, “Joey Donuts,” and “Joey Two-Plates,” the origins of which are rooted in stories long forgotten.
I am called “G.” Simply “G.” It’s odd that I was called “G” by my sister, brothers and friends as a kid. Some prisoners began calling me that a few years ago, but I don’t know why or who started it.
I guess I can live with “G.” I’ve been called a lot worse, but not by prisoners. Someone identified with Voice of the Faithful recently called me some horrible names in a comment he tried to post on These Stone Walls. Instead it was printed and mailed to me. I’m glad you weren’t subjected to it. The “faithful” Catholic who wrote it has never met me. Voice of the Faithful had a recent convention promising to clean up its act. We can only hope.
Anyway, I’m glad Joseph wants to be rid of “Guns.” It’s a good sign that he’s reflecting on who and what he wants to be known for. Names mean a great deal, and so does affiliation. Joseph recently said – with some wisdom beyond his years – “If I’m known by the company I keep, I just thought I should keep better company.” I didn’t catch on right away that I was part of the effort to rehabilitate his image.
The most difficult step toward progress for some prisoners is to be “their own man” without being influenced by what their peers expect of them. Sometimes setting aside a street name is a sign of inner change. When Saul changed, he became Paul.
BEWARE THE NOONDAY DEVIL
This is a difficult time of year for most prisoners. There are two contagious diseases that spread through this prison every year as winter approaches, reaching epidemic status by Christmas. You’ve all had them both. The first is any variation of the common cold. I just had one that lasted twelve days. It swept through here like a wildfire as every bug does. We’re all bracing for the predicted outbreak of HINI flu. It seems a matter of time.
The other disease – the more insidious one – is depression. Any celebration of family is like a vortex that sucks the spirit out of prisoners. The first signs of an epidemic come with the end of Daylight Saving Time. Simply put, darkness lends itself to despair.
It’s worse this year for lots of reasons: the economy suffers and so do prisoners’ families – those who have families anyway. It’s also far more crowded in here than it was a year ago. For the first time since I have been here, there are now prisoners living in the recreation areas outside our cells. It’s awful for them. The lights are on 24/7, and every sound echoes off the high concrete walls.
The field (see “Field of Dreams“) – the sole place to walk outside – was closed two months ago and will not open again until late in May. Everyone here has a sense of feeling squeezed, like animals in a forest whose habitat is being shrunk by an ever encroaching urban sprawl.
In his article about my friend, Pornchai, (“Pornchai’s Path to the Narrow Gate“), author Ryan MacDonald pointed out that “the United States has 5% of the world’s population and 25% of the world’s prisoners.” Here’s a far more startling statistic: Between 1980 and 2005, the New Hampshire state population rose 34% while its prison population rose nearly 600% with no commensurate increase in crime.
These statistics are reflected right here. The only place to go outside of our cells is “the pod,” and now twelve additional prisoners live out there. There’s a set of bunks just four inches from my cell door. The pod also contains nine tables with chairs and benches for writing or card games, two large work-out stations, three stationary exercise bikes, three telephones for pre-paid or collect calls (only two of them work), a really noisy “fooz ball” table, a ping pong table, a pool table, and now – as of a month or so ago – twelve bunks with men living in them, with more expected.
It’s sort of like a giant hamster cage with everyone frantically trying to expend pent up energy and dispel stress according to varying rhythms and schedules.
For the guys living in the overcrowded recreation areas, it’s a bit like living in a city bus terminal. To the credit of other prisoners, most try to be quiet at night and early in the morning, and some did all they could to help new arrivals make the best of the situation they must live in.
Sixty men cannot live in such an environment without disputes. They arise daily, some bigger than others, and often they linger only to arise again another day. I am usually oblivious to the drama that goes on outside my cell door, and it has to be that way. It’s what’s expected of me. In a real sense, the old model of priesthood is imposed on me by other prisoners: in the world, but not of it. There was something to be said for that model. When the people around me become polarized, life here takes a decidedly downward turn. Sometimes I’m thrust into being an instrument of peace. It is not very effective if I am polarized as well.
STRANGERS AND ALIENS
Often, prisoners’ worst disputes are with themselves. As I’m typing this in my cell, Joseph (formerly, “Guns”) came by and asked, “You busy, G?” It’s a question I hear all day long. As Christmas approaches, the mood in the prison spirals further down a dismal path as introspection and personal inventories commence. I can understand why the suicide rate goes up at Christmas. The disenfranchised feel their alienation so much more vividly at times of family celebration. It’s alarming to hear of the number of young men in prison with no families.
Some just burned every bridge they ever had, and now have to live with the wreckage. Many others simply never had any bridges at all. The introspection of prisoners, especially near Christmas, takes one of two directions. Some resolve to rise up out of their past and leave it behind. Others just give up all hope, and hand themselves over to despair. I spend time every day with men on both paths.
Some prisoners have very little outside of here. Last year on Christmas day, I just had to get outside. It was cold, and it had snowed, but I went to the small, caged-in yard in front of this building anyway. A guard closed the gate behind me, locking me in the snow-covered yard for an hour. The only other person there was a young man I did not know. He sat on a frozen wooden bench staring at his shoes.
It was a sad sight on Christmas Day. I walked over and sat next to him. “JJ” was hostile and angry, but under that – it’s almost always so – was a world of hurt. In an hour on Christmas afternoon I learned that JJ was twenty-two years old, had grown up in Boston in seventeen foster homes, had ADHD, and is now in prison for the first time because it’s where his incredibly poor judgment took him. Before prison, JJ was homeless, drifting from shelter to shelter.
On this Christmas Day, he came face to face with the empty wreckage of his life. He was outside in the cold alone because he had to get away from the seven other prisoners in whose cell he had landed just the day before. JJ had not had a single contact beyond these prison walls.
JJ had little sense of his African-American identity and heritage. All his energy went into mere survival. We became friends, but the others I know here could barely tolerate JJ. He had a way of alienating everyone but me. After a year or so, JJ was moved to another prison. Prisoners cannot write to each other, so I do not know how JJ is. There is no happy ending here. I’m told he’s living with 100 other prisoners in a prison gym converted into a huge dorm. It can’t be a nice way to spend Christmas, but I doubt very much that JJ has ever had a Christmas to compare it with.
WORKING OUT A SURVIVAL PLAN
Fighting off depression in such a place is a challenge. The atmosphere is often not very conducive to prayer and reflection. A friend once wrote to me asking if I could meditate daily in here. Not hardly! What helps fend off depression more than anything, I find, is daily, rigorous exercise. That’s a challenge, too, because we’re trapped inside so much more in the winter months.
For the last ten years, in sickness and in health, I spend ninety minutes a day in intense exercise. From 5:30 to 7:00 PM six days a week, I work out. I take Sunday off. Yesterday’s workout consisted of 300 sit-ups, an hour with weights, and then 100 turns with an abdominal wheel. I am joined in this by Pornchai, Koji, and Scott (they all had recipes in “Guess What’s Coming to Dinner“), and more recently by Joseph, Ben, and Mikey Goggles.
I have to do this every day no matter what comes. I must! If I don’t, I fear I will drift into the pattern of those who sleep all day and ruminate all night. Instead of “doing time,” time does them. It’s then just a matter of time before depression takes over and a sense of futility sinks in. It’s a challenge to teach discipline to people who have none. It’s first done by example.
Living a disciplined life is the only way to survive prison. I rise out of my bunk seven days a week at 7:00 AM. I do not lay down on my bunk again until 11:30 PM (midnight on Sundays, after Mass!), It is at least ten years since I have taken a nap or slept beyond 7:00 AM, even when sick.
Two years ago, I developed some tendonitis and took a week off from working out. The week stretched into a month, and then three months. It’s so hard to get back into a strenuous routine. My friend, Pornchai, started to nag me. “If you don’t do it, you’ll die!” he warned. He was right, and it would be slow and miserable. Pornchai has bi-polar disorder, and manages it with strenuous exercise every day. He puts in ninety minutes each morning and two hours each night. I am grateful to him that he pushed, nagged, and cajoled until I was back on track with him.
Last night, a twenty-six year old walked past while I stood in line to return a pair of 50-pound dumb-bells. “You really stick with this for an older guy,” he said. I’m not sure I should feel flattered by that, but I took it well. I told him why I stick with it – that the alternative is to give in, and then eventually give up. This morning, he was in our cell asking Pornchai to help him devise a work-out plan.
O come, 0 come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
O come, thou Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by thy drawing nigh;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadow put to flight.
(Veni Emmanuel,” 9th Century Chant, Verses One and Six)
Fr Anthony Kiem says
In civil courts claimants have to prove their accusations. If they fail, the court will rule NOT GUILTY, even the doubt is rather flimsy. In lawyers’ language this right granted defendants is called “habeas corpus” .
When Catholic priests are charged with minors molestation, this fundamental civic prerogative is denied to them.In my personal case, I was lucky to convince that my accuser’s claim is unfounded.
And What did I get? An exoneration from my bishop, and a casual apology from my accuser. The experience reminds me of Fr. Macial Maciel Degollado, who had to face hundred of accusers, yet Fr. Neuhaus still believed in the defendant’s innocence, and maintained that the complaint of minors’ molestation against the founder of the Legionaries of Christ was simply unbelievable, even absurd; and the mother of the alleged victim was only motivated by greed.
The defense sparked indignant protestations, “Fr. Neuhaus might be sued for infamy!” said a chorus of voices. Despite millions of claims to the contrary, I still believe myself in Fr Degollado’s innocense, regarding sex with minors, because the accusers are allowed by law to get off so breezily.
Mary says
Another inspiring and illuminating post Father. Your realisation of the need to keep yourself as physically fit as possible makes a great deal of sense.It is beginning to be recognised that keeping in good shape physically can help fight depression and improve self esteem and resilience.You have inspired me to make more of an effort in that direction.
Every blessing for Christmas to you and all your fellow “housemates” especially poor fellows like JJ who feel alienated and alone.
Esther says
Aloha Father Gordon:
It took me a while before I could bring myself to read your latest post. I just knew it was going to be a bit sad.
I am sorry for that person who attacked you with his words. The world would be such a better place if we learned to keep our hurtful opinions to ourselves. This is something I have to remind myself of almost daily.
Father, I sense you have inner peace even in that dreary place you are forced to call home.
I hope you and your fellow prisoners have a joyous Christmas remembering that God still loves all of you dearly.
Jan says
Dear Father ‘G’
Thank you for this post.I have been trying to imagine what it must be like for you at this time of year.
Your post gives a great insight although, it breaks my heart to think of you incarcerated and your fellow ‘inmates’ especially at this time of year. I can understand how it must make matters worse tenfold.
Father you have an amazing strength, your workouts are admirable and as the saying goes ‘healthy body healthy mind’ is true, it must be of great comfort to you to be able do these workouts.
How kind you were to JJ God bless him wherever he is. You are doing a marvellous Job father tending to your flock in prison. I am sure that God is very proud.
To be able to offer support to others when you, yourself are suffering is an admirable quality, which you have in abundance. You are doing God’s work and he will reward you with the justice you so richly deserve. How sad Someone from ‘voice of the faithful’ (I googled them!) felt they had to attack you.
We must pray for them and their lack of compassion and their sheer misguided rudeness. It is a sad fact in life that many will ‘attack’us for no apparent reason. My son suffered years of bullying at school for simply being a ‘vegetarian’ He now reflects upon his school days with sadness and where is the justice in that?
He still flinches at 19yrs old if we drive by his old school. I too always taught my son that ‘we are known by the company we keep’ and I too was brought up that way. When he made ‘friends’ I did not think would be a good influence on him, I would recite the phrase until he would smile, groan and say ‘I know mum, I know’ eventually he would ‘drop’ the friend without much of my imput but by sheer ‘learning’ .something our ‘friend’ from ‘voice of the faithful’ could do with I am sure.
With much love and blessings Gordon
Praying for you daily and I may drop by for ‘Mass’ when I work out the time difference and the protocol 🙂 as a non catholic.
Please say a prayer for my mum Irene. she has her pre op Angiogram (I think you call it Angioplasty) on the 21st December. Please keep her safe.
Godbless you
Jan
Msgr Michael says
Dear Father Gordon,
When injury comes from an unknown person usually it kind of slides off one’s back. I am sorry for the person from Voice of the Faithful who subjected you to what you described.
These are the real people who need to be healed. As a man who works in a Chancery, I have to deal with “church people”. Unfortunately, while we are all sons and daughters of God through baptism, so many people give in to hate and rage.
It is a sign of our times. It is pervasive and everywhere. Your testimony as a priest unjustly “locked up” yet ministering to people, as “the one who serves” is refreshing to read in this time of Advent. It cheers me up that there is still Hope for the Church as long as there are people like you. No one is perfect that is for sure, but the time of Advent has us pray, “Rorate, caeli de super, et nubes pluant justum”.
According to my promise you are in my prayers every day. Once again at the last youth reatreat I preached, one young man prayed for “all those brothers who are incarcerated”. I thought of you.
Peace !
LaVern says
Dear Fr. Gordon:
Thanks for sharing. You are indeed a blessing to your fellow prisoners.
Really liked Patricia’s idea–maybe an addition to your blog for prayer requests of fellow prisoners. I know Keith and I have a whole litany of prayer requests mentioned during our prayer before dinner each evening, so would be pleased to add a few daily of those requested by your friends.
Much love to you, Gordon.
LaVern
Karin says
Father,
Thank you for this post and for making us more aware of what “demons” prisoners face. I was somewhat aware because of my friend who had spent a good number of years in prison and my visits with him, but a reminder is good; it will remind us to keep you all in prayer.
While I believe it would be better to have you serving the Church outside prison walls, I know that God is doing great things through you during this time. These men are blessed to have known you.
As always, my prayers will continue for you as well as for your fellow inmates.
God bless you all.
Patricia says
To our shepherd,
Today at our Intercessors of the Lamb meeting one member was on a Miles Christi retreat and she was deep in prayer to our Blessed Mother and she felt the greatest promptings to pray for prisoners.
What a gift! As you know we pray constantly for all priests especially priests in crisis. You are a shepherd who feeds me spiritually and helps me go on and persevere in my little trials.
God Bless you Father,
Patricia
Julie says
Father,
The first part of this post was really the one that got to me the most, because it’s a problem I have, too. I have a past. Maybe it doesn’t involve guns and violence, but constantly I’m amazed that anyone who knows what I used to be would ever want to know me now. I have a couple friends who are priests, and they know my history, at least by my allusions to it. And still…they WANT to be my friend. It nearly scandalizes me.
Father if I sat down in front of you right now and told you my history, my past, and even my present, I would look at you in the same way as your friend Joseph; I’d be looking askance, looking for that same horror, wondering when you would shut the door on me. I really admire Joseph, for it seems he had the courage I don’t. I’ve never gone to my friends for Confession; what they know they learned outside of the Sacrament.
Yet I’ve never had the courage to ask them what I wonder so deeply: “Why do you want to be my friend?”. Most people I know don’t know the depths to which I’ve descended, and I am sure that if some of them, family especially, did know…I’d be cut off forever.
Please let Joseph, and all those with similar stories know that the bars they are behind don’t make them any different than the rest of us. We all suffer the same questions, the same assumption that maybe we CAN’T change or overcome.
It seems to me that, as hard as this is for you, this is what God intended for your priesthood. The more I read, the more I am convinced that you are there because of the desperate need of your ministry there; something that can’t come from a mere chaplain, but someone who is ONE of them. And your innocence makes you all the more into Christ, especially as He descended to the dead on Holy Saturday. Your life is Holy Saturday….all of it, in depths most of us will NEVER know.
Thank you for this blog, for your ongoing stories, for all of it. Please pray for us….I know without a doubt that we are all praying for you. We also pray for your fellow prisoners. Please make sure they know that. Maybe there should be a blog for their particular prayer requests!