Ash Wednesday

I woke up excited that day that the Lenten season had begun. I knew that carnival was desperate this year in New Orleans, so shortly after the Hurricane's devastating effects. I knew we could have ashes this day, as I had seen them on other inmates while I was downstairs early in the morning for my bandage change. What time, I did not know, and how, neither.

Sometimes they actually let us sign up for religious services. Sometimes, even after just signing up, we were actually called upon to go. If anyone didn't sign up, it was usually because of disinterest in the general dissapointment we could expect, or because the guard would refuse to do the extra work to put out a sign in sheet and call in the names and sid numbers of the inmates about to be transferred to another area for an event. So, generally speaking, yes, the sign in sheets never came. Not for AA, not for art class, not for church of any denominations available, not for the law library, and not for anything. When they did, it was a "nice" guard, meaning he fulfilled his responsibilities in some way. I don't exaggerate that there is little else for these guys to do on the floor. Other guards would complain themselves that there ws absolutely no reason not to get upset about this. These were generally speaking th e same guys who would allow themselves some quiet time at our expense, keeping us hours in our cell whil they performed the same duties they would while we had dayroom time, usually citing a vindictive little lie to cover themselves. "There was a reasonable disturbance". "The inmates did not respond to a request I made". Usually this was an easily detectable lie, as there was never any interaction, or very little really, with the guards. "I couldn't find the pencil sharpener". The sharpener excuse was seriously used twice in one week for teh same sharpener, which I had just seen myself in the office. I was told that "that is the blue one, I'm looking for the red one". Nobody knew of any existence ever of any red sharpener. The same guard the same excuse, twice. "There's going to be a shakedown if I don't find it". There obviously was never a shakedown, as the lie would have to include a whole unit of "turtles", or riot geared sherriffs. No pencil sharpener was ever found, and after the incidents with this sherriff, nobody else ever mentioned it.

The "perra" of the situation is hearing the guys get on each other without acknowledging the lie at all, or the apparent oppresion. "Give back the pencil sharpener before I kick your a**". "If somebody doesn't give that thing back, and I find out who has it...". Yeah, no red pencil sharpener. Never was. I drew every day, and after a month and a half in the same unit, never saw it. The guys I sat with, we all drew. Nope, never red. Only the blue one in the office. C'mon, guys, who'd have come up with it after it never being around?

So the ashes came by way of a Catholic nun. I was proud to be Catholic in there. I was probably the minority it seemed, at least in my unit, as most guys were Christian. Bible study abounded, and after dinner every night there were up to two different bible studies, sometimes even three. This among very few men.

Well, the Catholic nun came in and passed out flyers. The detoxing inmates who were kept in their cells for 23 hours a day were let out for it, and as I was with the seperated group who had to be locked up while they had their time, I never saw these guys otherwise. You can imagine, they were all Catholic, apparently.

So the sheet had prayers and hymns. Psalms and responses. We responded to her prayers, and sang to the song which opened and the "Our Father" to close. (Or maybe it was the other way around) In any case, she put ashes on my forehead after I had waited in line, crutching myself with much effort toward the front. It was a lot to stand through the ceremony, if that's what you could call it, and we generally were all huddled in an area of teh dayroom. What was it like? I'll post drawings, but be forewarned, I started mailing out the sketches after a little practice got me good enough to gain a likeness, so what's left in my files/posseeion are the ones I practised the others with. They're lousy, but it's what I have to post.

The ashes were too light to see by the time I had a visit. I hadn't gotten the response I wanted out of my visitor. The mommy of mine who never missed a visit. The blessing that that is, I will try and describe in greater detail later. For now, suffice it to say, it takes hours of waiting to see an inmate, and under very troublesome conditions. It's a lottery which can frustrate the most patient of people, and most people do not continue to endure the process. I was greatly blessed. Many of the men were in no position to even compare their visiting with mine. One guy I spoke to had no visits in months. I had heard that story over and again. If any came, for most it was "a menudo" The ones that did get them were generally out in a short while, making bail most likely.

So now I'd like to talk about the mail and the art of the inmate population. It's something in of itself. The drawings are of a style and theme that seperates it from anything mainstream or anything apart from perhaps some tatto shop drawings. Even those are no clear representation of all of what is seen in the walls of the institution. But I'm tired and I want to get a sketch up with this. If I'm going to, I better scan it now and post it soon. Before I dream of things which have nothing to do with my time on earth.