A Prison Christmas Story

I had a precious few years out there where I got to wake up to the sound of laughing kids whose enthusiasm dragged me out of bed and to the tree. A few years before that, I WAS the kid doing the dragging. These days, what wakes me on Christmas morning is the clacking of the key in the lock. That's most days for me, though. The only infectious noises are the kind that makes you cover your ears at 6am, people screaming about sportsball, both future and past.. Again, pretty much the standard day.

There are no presents.... There is sometimes wine, even in the early morning reminding me of mimosas with my family. I don't know if that's normal, but if ever there is a day to do morning drinking, it would be Christmas right? We don't have many weddings in here.

But there are some goodies. Usually a few days before Christmas, the federal prisons hand out "Christmas bags" which are about as random an assortment of treats you could imagine. This year, we got a bag of instant rice (If anyone knows the connection to this and Christmas, feel free to let me know in the comments), a squeeze pack of peanut butter, some cookies, bags of crackers... Even though its "never as good as last year", people are always pretty grateful.

Lest you think this is some wonderful deed of the season on behalf of the prison, the money comes from an inmate trust fund, taken in taxes from our commissary spending. The prison seems, as per usual, to do its best to make sure any merriment is discouraged if not punished. And yet, like most anywhere else in the world, people come together. Those with money pool together food for those who don't have much, and we make ridiculously well-done feasts considering the only method of cooking is hot water. The prison took the microwaves years ago. The culinary ingenuity has never ceased to impress me, even after 10 years. Last year I had an apple cobbler that I'd guess was made from apples NOT used to make booze, boiled in a bag with a "stinger"(Don't know what that is? Google it.) and an oatmeal raisin cookie crust. The year before that, I ate so much cheesecake (made from coffee creamer and a little lemon juice. It's amazing! (Or maybe... I've been in prison too long) I was sick. There is usually enough home-made wine to keep people merry.

A few years back I woke up early enough to hang and fill stockings for my cellmate and I. I deny it to him to this day. Over the years, I've been given gifts of art pencils, books, a guitar tuner... I've also given all kinds of random crap like bags of tootsie pops or drawings for friends in here. Tis the season, but it's particularly nice to give when there is so little for us here. This place will show you the meaning of that old "thought that counts" sentiment. It turns out it really is true!

Last year, we got 30 min out of the cell on Christmas Eve (no time out on Christmas. thanks to the Assistant Warden and staff) and a guy I didn't even know let me jump ahead in line so I could call my girlfriend.

These small acts of kindnesses pop up where you may not expect, putting the lie to what administrators and politicians would have you believe. Take your pick: Bad, animals, dangerous, psychopaths... There are also plenty of really good people, human beings helping others, rivalling the Who's in Whoville! Minus the heart-warming songs, perhaps. All of us heavy with memories and sadness and thinking of Christmas's past, and yet looking for ways to lighten the burdens this hateful place uses to torment us. That is after all, what PEOPLE do.