The Weekend, Part II: The One Where I Went to Prison

Outside of a couple of visits to Alcatraz and seeing lots of TV shows or films like The Green Mile or Shawshank Redemption, I have never really seen the inside of a prison.  Given this limited exposure, I've always pictured prison to be a very bleak, cold, brutal place of constant misery filled with ruthless, violent individuals.  And I'm sure a lot of prisons fit that description very well.

When my youngest brother Andrew became a convicted felon earlier this year and was sentenced to spend some time in the care of the Federal Bureau of Prisons, I wasn't sure what he was in for.  I knew that the jail where he had previously spent several months in North Carolina was a pretty rough place where bad things could and did happen to people with some regularity.  The last thing I wanted for my wayward but gentle brother was for him to land in a place where he would have to fend for himself among dangerous people and conditions.

We were pretty relieved when he was finally assigned to serve his almost 1 year sentence at a low-level security institution in Sheridan, Oregon.  Reviews on the place were pretty good, reporting favorable conditions.  The inmates there are not violent offenders and safety would not be a concern.  He would get decent food to eat and limited opportunities to work and improve himself.

Having said that, I still didn't really know what to expect when we went down to visit him for the first time this last Saturday.  I had heard reports from my mom and dad that it was a comfortable place to visit and that it would an okay place for my kids.  This was good news, because I felt pretty strongly about exposing my girls to that environment and sharing that whole experience as a family.  You see, I had multiple purposes in mind for the visit.  First and foremost, I missed my brother and I wanted to see him (he's been in since October 1).  But secondly, I wanted my daughters to get a little taste of life in that kind of environment.  I wanted them not only to see first-hand the consequences of unlawful behavior but also to see that inside the prison there are people who are good and who are loved.

So we set out Saturday morning from Auburn and drove for nearly 4 hours to get to Sheridan.  As the miles ticked away I got more and more excited to see my brother.  It was a pleasant drive and I especially enjoyed the last leg of the trip.  After escaping the Portland suburbs the road to Sheridan winds through some beautiful country dotted with orchards and vineyards.  Also there was a huge, unexpected flight museum not far away from Sheridan in McMinville with a huge variety of interesting planes on display in full view from the highway.  Apparently it's the current resting place of the Spruce Goose.  Who knew?

I briefly had second thoughts about the whole excursion after we had hopped out of the car and were entering the building that housed the inmate visiting area.  We had just passed through the unmanned, open front gate and found a parking spot before heading inside.  As we were approaching the front door of the building a voice came on over a loudspeaker broadcast throughout the prison giving some kind of instructions to the "inmate who just stabbed himself in the eye."  It didn't sound pretty, and I knew from previous correspondence with Andrew that things in an adjacent, higher-level security part of the prison sometimes got a little crazy.

Heather and I traded concerned looks and continued into the facility.

We quickly got checked in and entered a room full of inmates and their visiting friends and family members.  If it weren't for the fact that each inmate was dressed in an identical dark green jumpsuit with names and numbers printed on the front the place would have felt just like a gathering at a community center.  All told there were probably 50-60 people present visiting with each other.  Lots of groups were playing card games or reading books.

We located Andrew and everyone traded hugs and we spent a very pleasant hour visiting together and catching up.  My brother Scott was there too and we talked about sports and news items, family updates, and of course Andrew's life in the prison and his plans for when he gets out in September of this year.

What struck me the most about the visit was the love in that room.  I know it's been a lonely place for Andrew, who of course doesn't know anyone in the prison and hasn't really reached out to get to know anyone since he arrived.  He's done a lot of reading and working out, but not much else since he arrived.  I imagine that most of the inmates must feel the same way.  So receiving guests (many of whom likely had to, like us, travel quite some distance) must be a unique and rare experience.

Looking around at the faces of the inmates (using my newfound skills I mentioned in Part I of this post), each one of them looked incredibly happy to have a visitor.  All of the visitors who were in the room looked very supportive toward their loved one.  There was no hint of animosity or resentment - and only the briefest traces of sadness - that I could see on any of their faces.  Just love in large quantity.

When visiting hours ended at 3:00 I saw many tearful goodbyes - including one where a young girl who was probably Sydney's age was clinging to her father and bawling.  Seeing these displays strongly reinforced for me the tremendous worth of all of the people residing in that place.

Heather said tonight that when somebody goes away to prison they kind of move out of time.  They are unable to make the kind of normal life progress (school, work, family, etc) that most people make most of the time.  It's kind of hard to know what to talk about with Andrew sometimes because it's not like he has a lot of his own news to report.  And my life rolls forward without him for now and his connection to my life gradually gets more distant.  I am happy to know that it's a temporary separation and that he will be back among family by autumn.

I think everyone has a right to the kind of love I saw in that prison on Saturday.  Parents, siblings, spouses, and children who care and who communicate or demonstrate that care.  While I hope to never find myself on the other side of the situation I observed this weekend, I am grateful to be in a position to support someone I love who is spending some time there.  I am grateful for the new perspective I picked up on Saturday, and for the opportunities I will have to demonstrate that kind of love to others whenever they might need it.