During the evening yard period, I met up with a 25-year-old man from Suffolk County by the name of Chris...
He was back on a parole violation after having been released from prison earlier this year. He didn't last very long in the "streets" before being rearrested and returned, thus bringing Chris right back to where he'd left off.
Chris lives in the E-South cell block. This section of the facility is designated as the "Special Needs Unit" by the Department of Corrections. Here, those who've been assessed as being in need of special care because of varying degrees of psychological problems along with being educationally challenged as a result of a learning disability mixed with behavioral problems, will live under the supervision of trained staff. However, these men are permitted to mix with the facility's general population. Hence, I found myself waking with Chris on this mild night.
Chris is truly a likeable person. Even though he's an "adult" by virtue of his age, emotionally he's like an adolescent. Chris is also very excitable, and he talks a lot with his hands. But as he and I spoke, Chris told me that since coming back to prison, he's ready to make some "big changes" in his life.
An habitual chain smoker, Chris is about 5'8" tall, and he weighs around 290 pounds. His cigarette habit, though, has put a noticeable stench on his clothes. And his fingertips have ugly brown and yellow scabs on them because he smokes his hand rolled, non-filtered cigarettes to the very end.
Chris told me that he was doing well when he'd first gotten out. But after a while, he explained, he began to hang out with his former friends. He said they were a bunch of bored "wannabe" gang members and high school dropouts who, in his retrospective view, were trying to find their place in life. Chris certainly fit into the mix.
Chris had also told me that prior to this his mother had given him an ultimatum when he first came home that if he didn't straighten out, and if he got into any more trouble, he would never be allowed back home again. So Chris, who didn't know that his parole officer was already looking for him, when he had innocently walked through the door, was immediately confronted by his angry mother. Chris said his mom began to yell at him. Then she started smacking her son in the head repeatedly. And within moments, Chris' sister, upon hearing the commotion, entered the room. And once she heard that her brother had messed up again, she too began to pummel Chris with her fists. He said his sister weighs almost as much as him, too.
It must have been a sight to see - a grown man getting simultaneously slapped upside the head and across his back by both a middle-aged woman and his fat sister. Poor Chris! They meant well, however. Chris' mother and sister were, in desperation, only trying to knock some sense into his thick skull. He told me they'd walloped him around for about five minutes as he pleaded with them to stop. He wasn't seriously hurt, he said. But he did tell me that he "felt stupid."
So as Chris and I continued our walk, I couldn't help but laugh as he told his tale of woe. He also admitted that his Mamma was right. He knew better than to hang out past his curfew and to pal around with the town's mischief-makers. He told me he should've chosen better friends. I agreed. Then Chris quickly added, "I deserved to get punched around because I was such a jerk." I agreed once more.
Chris is known for saying and doing dumb things. He'd gotten into a few minor scuffles with fellow inmates the last time he was here. He also received a few write-ups for getting snappy with the guards and telling them off. Nevertheless, Chris and I had a good conversation and an enjoyable time. Then, as the recreation period was about to end for the evening, Chris added that he's going to try to make it to church this Sunday. I told him it would be nice. But I also remembered that when he was here before, he never went to a service. I kept this to myself, however.
Afterwards, as we traveled the corridors on the way back to our respective cell blocks, I said to him that while going to church is nice, having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ is really what counts. I also asked Chris if he had a Bible. He said he did, that he would try reading from it before bedtime. I hope so. Yet knowing Chris like I do, he's more apt to plop himself down in front of a television set in the dayroom and light up a few more cigarettes than he is to go into his cell and study the Bible.
Chris is simply a big kid in a grown man's body. I'll try to encourage him when I can.
D.B.
Chris lives in the E-South cell block. This section of the facility is designated as the "Special Needs Unit" by the Department of Corrections. Here, those who've been assessed as being in need of special care because of varying degrees of psychological problems along with being educationally challenged as a result of a learning disability mixed with behavioral problems, will live under the supervision of trained staff. However, these men are permitted to mix with the facility's general population. Hence, I found myself waking with Chris on this mild night.
Chris is truly a likeable person. Even though he's an "adult" by virtue of his age, emotionally he's like an adolescent. Chris is also very excitable, and he talks a lot with his hands. But as he and I spoke, Chris told me that since coming back to prison, he's ready to make some "big changes" in his life.
An habitual chain smoker, Chris is about 5'8" tall, and he weighs around 290 pounds. His cigarette habit, though, has put a noticeable stench on his clothes. And his fingertips have ugly brown and yellow scabs on them because he smokes his hand rolled, non-filtered cigarettes to the very end.
Chris told me that he was doing well when he'd first gotten out. But after a while, he explained, he began to hang out with his former friends. He said they were a bunch of bored "wannabe" gang members and high school dropouts who, in his retrospective view, were trying to find their place in life. Chris certainly fit into the mix.
Chris had also told me that prior to this his mother had given him an ultimatum when he first came home that if he didn't straighten out, and if he got into any more trouble, he would never be allowed back home again. So Chris, who didn't know that his parole officer was already looking for him, when he had innocently walked through the door, was immediately confronted by his angry mother. Chris said his mom began to yell at him. Then she started smacking her son in the head repeatedly. And within moments, Chris' sister, upon hearing the commotion, entered the room. And once she heard that her brother had messed up again, she too began to pummel Chris with her fists. He said his sister weighs almost as much as him, too.
It must have been a sight to see - a grown man getting simultaneously slapped upside the head and across his back by both a middle-aged woman and his fat sister. Poor Chris! They meant well, however. Chris' mother and sister were, in desperation, only trying to knock some sense into his thick skull. He told me they'd walloped him around for about five minutes as he pleaded with them to stop. He wasn't seriously hurt, he said. But he did tell me that he "felt stupid."
So as Chris and I continued our walk, I couldn't help but laugh as he told his tale of woe. He also admitted that his Mamma was right. He knew better than to hang out past his curfew and to pal around with the town's mischief-makers. He told me he should've chosen better friends. I agreed. Then Chris quickly added, "I deserved to get punched around because I was such a jerk." I agreed once more.
Chris is known for saying and doing dumb things. He'd gotten into a few minor scuffles with fellow inmates the last time he was here. He also received a few write-ups for getting snappy with the guards and telling them off. Nevertheless, Chris and I had a good conversation and an enjoyable time. Then, as the recreation period was about to end for the evening, Chris added that he's going to try to make it to church this Sunday. I told him it would be nice. But I also remembered that when he was here before, he never went to a service. I kept this to myself, however.
Afterwards, as we traveled the corridors on the way back to our respective cell blocks, I said to him that while going to church is nice, having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ is really what counts. I also asked Chris if he had a Bible. He said he did, that he would try reading from it before bedtime. I hope so. Yet knowing Chris like I do, he's more apt to plop himself down in front of a television set in the dayroom and light up a few more cigarettes than he is to go into his cell and study the Bible.
Chris is simply a big kid in a grown man's body. I'll try to encourage him when I can.
D.B.
