Prison can be a sad and oppressive place if one allows it to be…
Or it can be a place for reflection, growth, and learning as a man begins to come to terms with discovering who he is on the inside, and what he needs to change in order to become a better person.
I don't think I could've survived these forty-three years of imprisonment if not for the Lord. He not only saved my soul, He saved my mind from cracking up from the stresses that come with incarceration. While on a number of occasions He spared me from suffering bodily harm, as well.
When I first came to prison in 1978, I was sent to one of New York's most notorious prisons, Attica! It was known for its violence. Sadly, it was also known for having one of the worst prison riots in American history. A hostage situation turned deadly, leaving, if I remember correctly, forty-three prisoners and guards dead.
When I got to Attica, tensions were still high. Many of the correction officers who worked there had gone through the Attica riot. Some of them lost loved ones who also worked there, or knew coworkers who perished in the retaking of the prison.
Many of those who survived the riot back in 1971 were still angry and bitter. They let me know from the very first day of my arrival there, that if I were to ever get out of line, they would give me the beating of my life, and might even end up taking my life.
It was in this environment where I got my first taste of doing hard time. As a "new jack" to the system, I would have a lot to learn, and I had to learn the ropes quickly. Fights and even stabbings were an almost daily occurrence. For the time being, Attica was my hell on earth.
Fortunately, as time went on, I met up with a number of decent and friendly fellow prisoners who were a big help with my adjusting to incarceration. I met a number of decent and fair-minded guards as well.
But in this environment, one may also encounter staff who don't like inmates, even hate us. They will let it be known, too. I had my share of them. Some of whom even took bets as to how long I would live before another prisoner would take my life. But God, I believe, would not allow for it to happen.
Ironically, as fate would have it, I would outlive all the guards who bet on my demise. I've nothing against them, and I barely remember their faces. But I do remember their mocking laughter and jokes. "Hey, Davey, you're still with us, huh?" and "We've got a pine box ready for you, Berkowitz."
I know my life meant little to them. But this was also their way of coping with having to work in such a depressing place. Infamous Attica is known for its suicides and acts of violence. It's a place that's filled with raging anger and bitterness, and where men are locked away, many for the rest of their lives.
Now, decades later, and from the vantage point of today, I live with the sobering realization that not only have I survived what many believed would be impossible odds, but that I actually outlived those who once thought my death was imminent.
Sadly, they're all gone having lost their lives to on the job heart attacks, or from an array of natural causes. Some even from alcoholism, as I would later learn. It's humbling to realize I have outlived those who wished me harm.
D.B.
I don't think I could've survived these forty-three years of imprisonment if not for the Lord. He not only saved my soul, He saved my mind from cracking up from the stresses that come with incarceration. While on a number of occasions He spared me from suffering bodily harm, as well.
When I first came to prison in 1978, I was sent to one of New York's most notorious prisons, Attica! It was known for its violence. Sadly, it was also known for having one of the worst prison riots in American history. A hostage situation turned deadly, leaving, if I remember correctly, forty-three prisoners and guards dead.
When I got to Attica, tensions were still high. Many of the correction officers who worked there had gone through the Attica riot. Some of them lost loved ones who also worked there, or knew coworkers who perished in the retaking of the prison.
Many of those who survived the riot back in 1971 were still angry and bitter. They let me know from the very first day of my arrival there, that if I were to ever get out of line, they would give me the beating of my life, and might even end up taking my life.
It was in this environment where I got my first taste of doing hard time. As a "new jack" to the system, I would have a lot to learn, and I had to learn the ropes quickly. Fights and even stabbings were an almost daily occurrence. For the time being, Attica was my hell on earth.
Fortunately, as time went on, I met up with a number of decent and friendly fellow prisoners who were a big help with my adjusting to incarceration. I met a number of decent and fair-minded guards as well.
But in this environment, one may also encounter staff who don't like inmates, even hate us. They will let it be known, too. I had my share of them. Some of whom even took bets as to how long I would live before another prisoner would take my life. But God, I believe, would not allow for it to happen.
Ironically, as fate would have it, I would outlive all the guards who bet on my demise. I've nothing against them, and I barely remember their faces. But I do remember their mocking laughter and jokes. "Hey, Davey, you're still with us, huh?" and "We've got a pine box ready for you, Berkowitz."
I know my life meant little to them. But this was also their way of coping with having to work in such a depressing place. Infamous Attica is known for its suicides and acts of violence. It's a place that's filled with raging anger and bitterness, and where men are locked away, many for the rest of their lives.
Now, decades later, and from the vantage point of today, I live with the sobering realization that not only have I survived what many believed would be impossible odds, but that I actually outlived those who once thought my death was imminent.
Sadly, they're all gone having lost their lives to on the job heart attacks, or from an array of natural causes. Some even from alcoholism, as I would later learn. It's humbling to realize I have outlived those who wished me harm.
D.B.
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