Hello everyone :)
I hope you are well! My mom was able to look at my blog traffic and it seems like people are receiving the new-blog notifications - thanks for reading!
September 2020: From my cell I see: the cell bars (light blue - some are light green or beige), a few feet further at the edge of the walkway is a chain-link fence, and then twenty feet further is the end of the building - a dirty, 70-foot-high wall with big windows and burglar bars (the building is five-stories tall - I live on the top level). The windows look onto - and into - another building, just a few steps away, exactly like the one I’m looking out of. But because the windows are quite big you can see into about twenty cells on the other side. Kind of. Besides all the bars and fencing, the windows are pretty dirty. I asked around and no one’s ever seen them washed on the outside, and one guy I spoke to has been here since the 80’s. Nevertheless, because of their size, they let in a lot of light.
So, when I didn’t get light one day (in summer) until about 10:00 in the morning - and even then is wasn’t very light - it was a bit confusing. End of the world? And also, why didn’t they open our doors for breakfast around 6:30 like normal? And what about work? Is there anybody out there?
Eventually at 4:30 in the afternoon we heard some walkie-talkies and were suddenly let out for breakfast. To get to the chow hall we have to go outside and that’s when we saw the sky: pea-soup thick, still, grey, dark, hazy. The sun was setting at around 8:00 then, but by the time we were done eating it was dark again. What the what? At 9:30 pm they delivered sack lunches to our cells for lunch, and if you were still awake, dinner was served in the chow hall at 1:30 in the morning. By that time people were discussing the cause: Fire. Fire on the mountain.
The next day, the sun didn’t make it through until late in the morning again. But this time the sky was pea-soup thick, - drum roll, wait for it - apocalyptic orange! Whaaaat? Are you guys seeing this? And the air was all campfire. With a cough cough here and a cough cough there, here a cough, there a cough, everywhere a cough cough. Yup, people were definitely smelling it. My neighbor even began a three-week long, twice-a-minute phlegm-clearing marathon. Hmmmmmmm.
I’ve heard about California’s booming forest-fire seasons, and seen some footage, but it really doesn’t do the real things justice (on that note: photos or footage of clouds, glowing campfire coals, and sunsets never do the real thing justice either. We keep trying anyway). This year Oregon got a taste of the fires and I guess as fires do, they spring up quickly.
The next few weeks must have been a logistical nightmare for the prisons as a few of them were in danger of being hit. The solution was to empty them at breakneck speed and bring them to O.S.P., where I stay. Although we were locked down for the majority of it and didn’t see a lot first hand, we heard about it: Every piece of available floor was transformed into sleeping space: hallways, storage rooms, classrooms, offices, the basketball court, card room, etc. They crammed in almost 1,400 extra people, in under 48 hours (normal occupation +- 2,000).
Busloads of mattresses followed busloads of sack lunches: 2 celery sticks, 2 carrots sticks, 4 pieces of bread, peanut butter sachet, jam/jelly sachet, half-frozen meat of unknown origin, chips, a cookie, and a piece of fruit - not bad really, even if you skip the meat like I did. For the next 10 days or so it was lock-down city, with the occasional sack-lunch pick up from the chow hall when room service wasn’t running. And meal times continued to keep you guessing. Fortunately, I had peanuts and candy bars tucked away to keep me happy.
But it wasn’t only the extra people confusing matters - it was all the fighting. People are often housed in different prisons, and different areas of prisons, to keep certain individuals separated: gang-member dropouts are kept separate from active gangs because members are sworn to fight drop outs on sight; inmates are kept separate when they testify against other inmates; people have pasts and want revenge; and some people are in Protective Custody - ex-cops are an example.
But now, with everyone everywhere, and during movements, scores were being settled left and right. The biggest I heard of involved thirteen people and there were something like eleven incidents one day. When things like that happen everything gets halted for an hour or so while they contain the situation, escort everyone out, and clean off the floors.
One night, in the block I was staying in, some guys jumped off the second-floor tier and rushed some guys on the ground floor. I was watching TV with my headphones on, so at first I thought it was just some hooting and hollering. But then I heard the, “Stop fighting! Get down on the floor!” Which was followed by the worst pepper-spray fallout I’ve had. The thick fire-air mixed with the spray, made us cough and squint for ages.
But other than that, it was just long still days, with time to kill. I flipped some channels and found The US Open was on - better yet, it had just started. I only played tennis as a kid but for some reason I really enjoy watching it. And I felt like quite the die hard watching all the way from the first rounds to the finals, both men and women. Tennis anyone? I also did exercises, read, and wrote a couple of letters.
About a week later we were given showers (don’t worry, I did the birdbath things in my cell!) and then we were let out to yard for an hour at a time, every couple days, to wait in line - sometimes never getting to the front - to use the phones. During those first few days out, the sky was still on-another-planet orange. I’ve never seen anything like it. But eventually it turned back to thick grey haze. And then finally back to blue sky. After being locked down in out little living spaces with the sky so crazy, it kind of felt like I’d been on a space trip and was returning back to earth. E.T. phone home!
October 2020: The recreation yard is essentially a three-lane-wide, tar-mac running track surrounded by bits of lumpy grass (there’s also grass inside the track for soccer, softball and Frisbee). Next to the track there’s an old brick building painted beige, with a strangely-shaped roof. It is called The Barn because it used to house barnyard animals. These days it has a basketball court, about 30 four-seater card tables, two incredibly well-worn shuffle board tables, a row of aged-wood bleachers, six flat-screens playing sport or movies, twenty-five pay phones, ten video kiosks for video visits, and my personal favorite: two homemade ping-pong tables. Ooh lala.
I remember playing ping-pong in the fourth grade during breaks, and then again in my early thirties when a friend and housemate would wake me jump and dominate me first thing in the mornings; we even got our own paddles we enjoyed it so much. I saw the tables when I first got here and they looked like a good idea, but I wasn’t feeling confident enough to put myself out there then.
In October I played a game with a friend I work with (he’s from El Salvador and is here for twenty years - I don’t know why). Oh my word, I hadn’t smiled and had so much fun in years! A few days later I checked out the paddles and propositioned a few people I knew, but no one seemed to play. Then Arnold, who I met for the first time then, asked if he could play.
I won the first game, he “barely” won the second, I won the third, he won the fourth, and then he took the fifth, for best of five. Well, I’ve come to learn that he was just letting me win, that hustler. He played in a table-tennis club at some point and has all sorts of tricks up his sleeve.
Nevertheless, we started playing a couple of times a week, as our schedules allowed, and I had a great time losing. That said, he’s nice in that he doesn’t just kill me, taking his own skill down a notch. It was great to find something that makes me smile in here.
November 2020: Remember in my last update I said I had moved from that one cell, out of necessity, and I would tell you why later? This is why: They announced that the block I was staying in, D-Block, had to have it’s plumbing redone, and all the pipes are wrapped in asbestos. So, for health reasons they needed to empty the block while doing the work. It's a massive job: 400 toilets, 400 sinks, all sorts of inlet and outlet pipes.
In total, 560 people would need to move out, for six months, while they do the work. But where to put them all? People were asked to volunteer for either the cramped dorm or the unluxurious, shared-cell, usually-used-for-behavioral-segregation building (the hole). Alternatively, if you could find a bed coming available in one of the three other housing blocks, you could put a request in for that.
But then the worst of it: three hundred people would need to be moved to other institutions. People scrambled. I heard some people were threatened: “You move out so I can take your spot!” Everyone wants a spot in one of the other three blocks. No one wants the dorm or hole. No one wants to move to a whole new institution - that’s like the only thing worse than being here already.
Fortunately for me, something I’m grateful for, I had recently made a friend in one of the other blocks and he found me a bed almost immediately. Now I’m right across from where I used to be, and can even look into the other building and see the cell I used to be in.
But a month after they made the announcement things got worse. We got a COVID spike in December and the hole got turned into a quarantine building. This meant even more people had to be shipped to other institutions. If I hadn’t found something so early in the process I probably would have been one of those people. Of course - if one chooses to - one survives, acclimates, and finds their feet amongst turbulence in life, so I know it would have been OK. But I am grateful that I didn’t have to do that this time (living on the run gave me plenty of that). Thank you.
December 2020: Ho Ho Ho. Meeeeeeeery Christmas! The clubs (Latino, American-Indian, African-American, Lifers, Veterans, Music, AA, NA, Family First) gave everyone a big bag of candy for Christmas, but a few days before that I got either COVID or the flu; I didn’t have breathing problems but boy-oh-boy did I feel the aches and chills. Also my taste and smell dipped, I self quarantined, took ibuprofen, and feel fine now. Apparently the prisons are quite high on the list for getting the vaccine, so maybe we’ll get one soon. We’ll see.
Other than that, we did the years last “The Great Reveal!” I’ll explain. First I need to tell you about the staff here. Some are good, some are bad (how else do they get the drugs in here?), some are kind, some are derogatory swear words. Every six months they have the opportunity to swap their positions - there are around 275 staff members rotating through all sorts of assignments and shifts (we call them correctional officers or C.O.s). The C.O. who had started working on the education floor was the best I’ve seen here. I mean this guy would stand out no matter where he was: he laughed, he smiled, he joked, he listened, the helped, he cared, he included everyone.
Next, my mom bought me a surfing calendar for my birthday last year (one off the few things besides books that can be sent in). Personally, I like to keep each month’s picture a surprise until it’s time to be “revealed” and I started making a thing of it each month with my friend El Salvador.
True to form, the C.O. picked up on this and quickly got involved. He would search for an “surfing song” on the internet (usually the Beach Boys - I wish they all could be California girrrrrrrrrls!) and would turn it up while we gather for “The Great Reveal!” Each month we would start at the beginning of the year and go through the months, making comments on how the picture i.e. size of the wave, then shape of the wave, the position of the surfer etc. related to events in that month - normally having to do with COVID: “It’s hitting us hard!”, “We’re coming out of the lockdown barrel!”, It’s about to crash on us again!”, “Totally broken bro!”, Cowabanga baby!”. It was great fun. Unfortunately, that C.O. took a better paying position this time around. Fortunately, his replacement is also great.
Spoiler alert: I’ll get to it next time but my mom and I started Pilates a few weeks ago! If you’ve been thinking about starting something and you’l like to join in, please do! I really like the book we’re using: Pilates for Beginners by Kathryn Corp and Kimberly Corp. Rather than pushing hard and putting ourselves off, we’ve decided to focus on technique and form - make sure we’re getting the basics right. So, we’re taking our time with it - regular practice, but no straining. For the first few months we’re only exploring: the starting positions, four warm ups, and two cool down. Bit-by-bit, whatever feels right for the day. Easy peasy. Loving it so far! (Please don’t tell my yoga).
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And that’s it. Here’s to living another year - cheers! I’ll be sure to update you soon. And as promised, I’ll post an essay next for fun. Also, if you’d like to let me know how you’re doing, I’d love to hear from you! In my last update I mentioned we have access to email but please note that I am not using it, as it’s difficult to get access to. We can write to each other directly using snail mail, or you can send letters to my mom and she will forward them to me too. Either way is great!
Oh, and in case you missed my About Me page, or the very first blogs (someone said they did), please check out the menus at the top of this page.
Thanks for spending time with me!
Love,
Barrett Preston Busschau.
Check out my next blog: Essay: Electronic Music Review
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