Every Sunday morning is our scheduled cell cleanup time…
After breakfast, those prisoners who want to, could have access to brooms, mops, plastic buckets and disinfectant, as well as access to a toilet brush, all of which have to be shared amongst the men in their respective cell blocks. It's the responsibility of every man to keep his quarters clean. So, we take turns using whatever limited cleaning equipment and supplies we have, sharing then passing everything down the tier to the next man in line.
Because I work as a "mobility assistant," in addition to being responsible to clean my own living area, I have to assist the handicapped inmates who are unable to do some or all of it for themselves. So, I and the other assistants gather whatever supplies we need, then go from cell to cell helpingwhere necessary.
We try to keep the handicapped men as independent as possible. But still, all of them need varying degrees of help. Some, fortunately, could function better than others. Several of them have only one leg, or no legs at all. We have those who are elderly, and younger ones who appear strong and full of perpetual energy. For some their loss happened during a violent confrontation with either rival gangmembers, or the police.
Prisoners carry their tales of woe with them wherever they go. Whether they've been crippled by crime, as some of them actually have, or their limbs are still intact, as are mine, life goes on. And by the grace of God, my life is moving forward. I'm thankful for another day.
D. B.
Because I work as a "mobility assistant," in addition to being responsible to clean my own living area, I have to assist the handicapped inmates who are unable to do some or all of it for themselves. So, I and the other assistants gather whatever supplies we need, then go from cell to cell helpingwhere necessary.
We try to keep the handicapped men as independent as possible. But still, all of them need varying degrees of help. Some, fortunately, could function better than others. Several of them have only one leg, or no legs at all. We have those who are elderly, and younger ones who appear strong and full of perpetual energy. For some their loss happened during a violent confrontation with either rival gangmembers, or the police.
Prisoners carry their tales of woe with them wherever they go. Whether they've been crippled by crime, as some of them actually have, or their limbs are still intact, as are mine, life goes on. And by the grace of God, my life is moving forward. I'm thankful for another day.
D. B.
RSS Feed