They just don't seem to know what they're getting into...
Maybe they don't care, but they should. I'm referring to young men who are coming to prison.
I've been locked up for more than thirty years. So I hail from a different generation. Yet here they come. The routine never changes. Every few weeks, a fresh shipment of men enter the facility as those who've been here for a while transfer on. Faithfully, a bus will arrive and out of it will stumble a new crop of swashbuckling, hip-hopping, head-bobbing wannabe tough guys who have thrown away their lives. However, they just haven't realized it yet, but in time they will. For the moment, though, they don't have a clue that the choices each one has made have now embarked them on a journey which will result in many wasted years - years that should have been their most productive.
I see their faces. Fresh looking yet painted with a false bravado, and bodies with plenty of tattoos, too. Most are first-timers in the system. But these usually have a criminal record for prior but lesser offenses. It's the same self-destructive pattern. Start small, end big. It's the classic rising in the ranks from juvenile court and a short stay at a youth facility, to the ultimate promotion - a sentence to the state's prison system.
Of course, older men arrive as well. Some of them are repeaters who've returned on a new sentence, or they have violated parole. In here, it seems, there is always room for more. The authorities will find the space. No convict will be turned away because the facility is full. Of this we can be sure.
It's a maze they've gotten themselves trapped in, and a big mess as well. After all, prison is a place for flops and lawbreakers. It's the truth. This isn't Yale or Harvard. It is the House of Pain. Yet, conversely, it is also a place for contemplation and reflection. In here a man can, if he is ready, face his demons and confront the truth about himself. But, like the crime he committed to bring him here, it too is a choice.
Yes, facing oneself. It happens. In the process of time, many prisoners awaken to their situation. The realization comes that they're locked away from their families, and from society. Regret enters the scene, remorse and guilt for the crime, as well as self-loathing and a deep and growing hatred for what he has done. I know. This was and is me. And when a man is at this stage, he is ripe for repentance. Because honest self-examination, while painful, can result in change. A man becomes sick of who he is and how he has lived his life. He comes to the end of himself, really. Then, at this point, deep in his heart, he knows he's through with the criminal lifestyle. This is a good thing. And, if anything, this is the better part of prison. A man admits his wrongs, is sorry for his actions, and he is now ready for a new beginning.
Still, there is a bad side to prison, and I hope to write about it tomorrow. For not all of these men want to change for the better. Not all have remorse for their crimes. Some give up and they get worse.
D.B.
I've been locked up for more than thirty years. So I hail from a different generation. Yet here they come. The routine never changes. Every few weeks, a fresh shipment of men enter the facility as those who've been here for a while transfer on. Faithfully, a bus will arrive and out of it will stumble a new crop of swashbuckling, hip-hopping, head-bobbing wannabe tough guys who have thrown away their lives. However, they just haven't realized it yet, but in time they will. For the moment, though, they don't have a clue that the choices each one has made have now embarked them on a journey which will result in many wasted years - years that should have been their most productive.
I see their faces. Fresh looking yet painted with a false bravado, and bodies with plenty of tattoos, too. Most are first-timers in the system. But these usually have a criminal record for prior but lesser offenses. It's the same self-destructive pattern. Start small, end big. It's the classic rising in the ranks from juvenile court and a short stay at a youth facility, to the ultimate promotion - a sentence to the state's prison system.
Of course, older men arrive as well. Some of them are repeaters who've returned on a new sentence, or they have violated parole. In here, it seems, there is always room for more. The authorities will find the space. No convict will be turned away because the facility is full. Of this we can be sure.
It's a maze they've gotten themselves trapped in, and a big mess as well. After all, prison is a place for flops and lawbreakers. It's the truth. This isn't Yale or Harvard. It is the House of Pain. Yet, conversely, it is also a place for contemplation and reflection. In here a man can, if he is ready, face his demons and confront the truth about himself. But, like the crime he committed to bring him here, it too is a choice.
Yes, facing oneself. It happens. In the process of time, many prisoners awaken to their situation. The realization comes that they're locked away from their families, and from society. Regret enters the scene, remorse and guilt for the crime, as well as self-loathing and a deep and growing hatred for what he has done. I know. This was and is me. And when a man is at this stage, he is ripe for repentance. Because honest self-examination, while painful, can result in change. A man becomes sick of who he is and how he has lived his life. He comes to the end of himself, really. Then, at this point, deep in his heart, he knows he's through with the criminal lifestyle. This is a good thing. And, if anything, this is the better part of prison. A man admits his wrongs, is sorry for his actions, and he is now ready for a new beginning.
Still, there is a bad side to prison, and I hope to write about it tomorrow. For not all of these men want to change for the better. Not all have remorse for their crimes. Some give up and they get worse.
D.B.
