Working inside the kitchen of a maximum security prison is a challenge...
I have to work side by side with men who come from many different backgrounds, who've committed all kinds of crimes.
But the good part is that I happen to be with several Christian friends who are in the kitchen with me. And one of them is a light skinned black man who goes by the nickname, "Lil Smoothie." I would often tease Lil Smoothie about his name because there's nothing little or smooth about him. He's a stocky man with a big weight-lifter like frame and lots of muscles. Little Smoothie looks like a lineman for a football team. He can also be loud and boisterous at times, but in a good-natured way.
Me and the handful of Christian men I work with, to include Little Smoothie, have a good time praising the Lord as we clean and scrub piles of pots, pans and dishes. And Lil Smoothie has the kind of humor which helps to make our work seem a little easier. Then, during our allotted break times, we can retreat to the rest area and sit at a table to read and study our Bibles.
As I have expressed in some of my journal entries from last year, it's very humbling to work in a hot kitchen with the endless clanging and banging of steel pots and pans, and they strike against metal or get plopped down on stainless steel table tops. In the kitchen long rows or huge kettles blow their steam while cooking rice, pasta, soup or vegetables. It's a busy place, with men passing back and forth around you with brooms and mops and wagons filled with garbage.
In addition, the inmate kitchen workers have to prepare all the food for the minimum security prison that's down the road from the main facility. This leaves us with an extra 200 to 220 mouths to feed. But this may change soon because, as it's been reported by the local news media, the prison's minimum security annex has been slated to close by the end of this year. It's part of a cost-cutting measure to save the state money. For now, however, we must feed the annex and wash the pans they send back.
Yet, with this aside, I thought it strange when Little Smoothie didn't come in to work this morning. I figured he may have had a medical appointment, or perhaps he was expecting a visit from his family. Later, when I asked one of the correction officers who's assigned to the kitchen where Smoothie was, he told me that Smoothie had to remain in the cell block in order to pack his belongings. He was being transferred. I was bummed out when I heard this. The news took me by surprise.
Afterwards, I learned that Little Smoothie was indeed being "packed up." This is prison parlance for an inmate having to place his personal property and everything he owns into a burlap or plastic potato sacks. Yes, whenever an inmate is being transferred to another facility, he's given potato sacs to put his belongings in. It's part of the prison system's "no frills" method of moving. Little Smoothie will be gone by tomorrow.
Fortunately for Little Smoothie, he only has a handful of years left to do to complete his prison sentence. So, as a matter of routine, the Office of Classification and Movement within the Department of Correctional Services, has apparently selected Smoothie to fill a bed at a medium security facility while a new inmate with a maximum security housing designation takes a cell and a bed here at Sullivan.
I'll probably never see Little Smoothie again until he and I get to heaven. He is one man I am definitely going to miss, and I already have an ache in my heart. Smoothie loves God. He could be considered your one of a kind "life of the party" type person. Always funny, his booming voice could be heard all across the kitchen. I'm losing a good friend.
D.B.
But the good part is that I happen to be with several Christian friends who are in the kitchen with me. And one of them is a light skinned black man who goes by the nickname, "Lil Smoothie." I would often tease Lil Smoothie about his name because there's nothing little or smooth about him. He's a stocky man with a big weight-lifter like frame and lots of muscles. Little Smoothie looks like a lineman for a football team. He can also be loud and boisterous at times, but in a good-natured way.
Me and the handful of Christian men I work with, to include Little Smoothie, have a good time praising the Lord as we clean and scrub piles of pots, pans and dishes. And Lil Smoothie has the kind of humor which helps to make our work seem a little easier. Then, during our allotted break times, we can retreat to the rest area and sit at a table to read and study our Bibles.
As I have expressed in some of my journal entries from last year, it's very humbling to work in a hot kitchen with the endless clanging and banging of steel pots and pans, and they strike against metal or get plopped down on stainless steel table tops. In the kitchen long rows or huge kettles blow their steam while cooking rice, pasta, soup or vegetables. It's a busy place, with men passing back and forth around you with brooms and mops and wagons filled with garbage.
In addition, the inmate kitchen workers have to prepare all the food for the minimum security prison that's down the road from the main facility. This leaves us with an extra 200 to 220 mouths to feed. But this may change soon because, as it's been reported by the local news media, the prison's minimum security annex has been slated to close by the end of this year. It's part of a cost-cutting measure to save the state money. For now, however, we must feed the annex and wash the pans they send back.
Yet, with this aside, I thought it strange when Little Smoothie didn't come in to work this morning. I figured he may have had a medical appointment, or perhaps he was expecting a visit from his family. Later, when I asked one of the correction officers who's assigned to the kitchen where Smoothie was, he told me that Smoothie had to remain in the cell block in order to pack his belongings. He was being transferred. I was bummed out when I heard this. The news took me by surprise.
Afterwards, I learned that Little Smoothie was indeed being "packed up." This is prison parlance for an inmate having to place his personal property and everything he owns into a burlap or plastic potato sacks. Yes, whenever an inmate is being transferred to another facility, he's given potato sacs to put his belongings in. It's part of the prison system's "no frills" method of moving. Little Smoothie will be gone by tomorrow.
Fortunately for Little Smoothie, he only has a handful of years left to do to complete his prison sentence. So, as a matter of routine, the Office of Classification and Movement within the Department of Correctional Services, has apparently selected Smoothie to fill a bed at a medium security facility while a new inmate with a maximum security housing designation takes a cell and a bed here at Sullivan.
I'll probably never see Little Smoothie again until he and I get to heaven. He is one man I am definitely going to miss, and I already have an ache in my heart. Smoothie loves God. He could be considered your one of a kind "life of the party" type person. Always funny, his booming voice could be heard all across the kitchen. I'm losing a good friend.
D.B.
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