Time off for Good Behavior

The one and only time I have been a guest of the state was a couple years back. I served one night in the county slammer for a DUI.

I'd had a couple of beers, see, and I got pulled over for going too fast in a 50 mph zone. I burped while the cop was talking to me, otherwise it'd just be a speeding rap, possibly just a warning.

Don't believe anything about legal drunk levels. Most states now have a zero tolerance, which means even a trace can get you busted. If you take a blow test and it registers anything, they can pull you. If you refuse the test, they can pull your license for a year.

Anyways, the Judge gave me the light sentence, 10 days suspended and 24 hour in stir.

I walked to the jail from a friend's house, leaving my car there. I checked in at 7:00 am, had to leave all my belongings but boxer shorts and socks in a locker. I got my issue of orange prison garb and blanket and got locked in a 16x20 with 3 other guys and a steel toilet with no seat. Two guys were sleeping and the third, no more than 25 years old, was sitting and crying. Actually, they were all 3 under 25, making me the old man.

It was far from quiet. There was a woman down the corridor in a cell by herself, ranting and screaming

By 7:30, the other two were awake. I got the "Whatcha in for?" and I told 'em. They'd been in for that before, even seen the same judge, so we had something to talk about.

I asked the one fella, Juan, what he was in for and he said, "You ain't gonna believe it. I got busted for giving water to an illegal immigrant and her kids." I replied that I didn't think you could get busted for that, to which he replied, "Well, I hit the cop and tried to run. They found a half pound of pot and a gun under the seat of my car." We all laughed, except for the wimpering kid who let out a most mournful sob.

After a scrambled egg and toast breakfast, they took Juan and his pal Emil off to see the judge and get arraigned. They were replaced by a fella named Mark, doing his 24 hours like me. About an hour later they brought in a guy of around 30 who was sloppy drunk from the night before. Turns out he'd been on a bender for the last 2 weeks and his father turned him in because he stole his car and ran for Mexico. That guy slept fitfully most of the day and puked most of the night.

Nothing to do in a cell like that but talk or sleep or go to the toilet, all of which get old after a while. Lunch was a bologna sandwich and warm coffee.

Mark, the new guy got chatty with the sad kid after lunch, calming him somewhat. Mark told him about living in Lordsburg, New Mexico and getting busted one time in '95. While he was in the holding cell, the Sheriff's daughter brought him lunch and let herself into the cell. By this time, we're all roaring with laughter and the kid is finally relaxed. He asked Mark what he'd been busted for to get such a great time in jail and Mark said, "Shooting my brother-in-law because he shorted me on a smack deal".

So much for calming the kid down. The afternoon progressed quietly, except for the snoring. It's amazing how much sleeping you can do and still not have the time move quickly. That afternoon felt like a month, but I guess that's the idea. Through all this, the drunk guy would shout out incoherently every few minutes. All the while I was hoping I'd be out of there before he started to detox.

I read every Sunset, Reader's Digest, Good Housekeeping magazine in the place, forgetting everything I read almost immediately.

By late afternoon, we were all pretty quiet, nothing to say. It was a cell with 6 bunks, so we were due for at least one more roommate as the rest of the cells were full. Around 4:15, we got our last man.

At first I thought I was asleep, dreaming this whole thing, but then I realized that the new guy was, well, something else altogether. He walked in with a cigarette in his mouth and a wool cap on his head. ALl I could think about was R.P. McMurphy out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". How'd he get in with a smoke and a cap when the rest of us were stuck solely with the orange clothes and smoking was prohibited?

His name was Edward and he wanted to be called Edward. He was my age, about 45 at that time, He was loud and full of energy, arms like Popeye and a laugh that shook the bars. He'd been in a fight that afternoon with a cable installer. Edward came home to find his girlfriend sweet-talking the guy and he lost it, put the guy in the hospital with a broken nose. Then Edward told us all his stories of when he was a meter reader for the Electric Company and his numerous amorous afternoons "And I wasn't readin' just electric meters, if ya know what I mean."

The cops must have known this guy, as he was overly familiar with all of them, though they wouldn't let on. When he asked for extra food at dinner for himself and his buddies (us) they brought us extra dinner rolls and apples.

Edward was the real thing, bigger than life and full of vinegar. He would probably tell everything he ever did, good, bad, whatever and do it with relish. Not out of ego, just enthusiasm for living. He was the kinda guy that would plead guilty and mean it, remorseful for having done wrong, but not going to beat himself up over it.

We spent the rest of the evening listening to his stories, a stint in the Marine corps in the 80's,doing time in Huntsville, working as a drill operator on an oilfield and working the tankers in Port Arthur. Interspersed were stories of fights in Vegas, amorous encounters with girls of 18 through women of 60-plus.

Night came and the cells were darkened. They never shut the lights off all the way, gotta keep an eye on the inmates. The 4 of us slept fitfully, the drunk waking with the shakes and wretching every half hour or so, the kid sobbing into his blanket, me and Mark grumbling how freakin' tired we were gonna be tomorrow.

Edward, however, slept like a newborn, though his snoring shook him a couple of times. He'd laugh in his sleep, making us think he was content, happy as a clam to be getting some peace and quiet.

The next morning I left at 7:00. The other four remained. I never saw them again.

...Out of the Blue

"Blues were my favourite colour until I looked 'round and found another song that I felt like singing". Ian Anderson-1970

It's easy to fall into the trap, the pit of despair that too often accompanies this thing we like to call life. The bitterness and struggle to just get along seems to be the rule of the day and the incessant drone of day to day walking. A simplistic answer would be to "Get Religion", but even then the ever-presence of the blues is obvious. Face it, the prophets were some real downers and the likes of Jeremiah even wished he'd never left his mother's womb. Never left his mother's womb. If it were only that easy.

Others say look for that happy place, Nirvana, and spend your life looking or waiting. Or, live a bunch of lives until you get it right. Tao leads us to nothing, maybe the only real human answer but, none the less, a pretty sad answer.

I don't believe God created us to be constantly happy. Eternally, yes, but not just now. He created us to live, to love, to be happy, to be sad, to be all things that are human and, yes, God-like. Here's where we lose it though, at least for me.

It's this thing called death. Not just the physical death, but the emotional and spiritual deaths as well. It's that thing which separated us from what God intended for us. Physical death is the obvious one and, somehow, the easiest to understand even if it hurts like hell. Beginning/end. Keep walking. Someday we all do it.

But emotional and spiritual death are a different story, as they aren't so obvious.

Hate and prejudice, selfishness, disregard and disrespect, gluttony (not just food and drink) are all things that make for emotional death. It separates us from each other but, since we continue to physically live, we don't really recognize the death.

Spiritual death, that death that separates us from God, can come as a result of emotional death, but not always. Jeremiah was on that verge, as was Job, as was (yes) Jesus, when they all asked that same question "Why have you forsaken me?" But they didn't fall into it. They saw the separation and lamented it, as do we all sometimes. I guess that puts us in pretty good company.

But that's where the blues come in.

Willie Brown, friend of blues icon Robert Johnson, is credited with defining the blues this way, "Blues ain't nuttin' but a good man feelin' bad."

I guess where I'm going with this is that emotional and spiritual death don't have to be the end. Only physical death brings it all home. There is resurrection from emotional and spiritual death while we live, if we choose it and, I believe anyways, that the final resurrection comes as a result of those two getting set right now.

Life is a Carnival, Two Bits a Shot.

Photo by Leo

Another election day approaches. Not as big as the 4-year event, but kinda like the play off before the World Series. Out here, elections are big things, so big that when things go awry, no one hesitates to petition a recall. No matter if the elected one gets 80% of the vote. Nope, not out here in Arizona. Someone will come along, petition in tow, and form a committee to dump someone because, well, because of anything from not liking how they keep their yards to the fact that their tinted glasses are too dark. Our allegiances have disappeared and we wallow in extrinsic decisions.

Americans, God love us, cherish democracy , but haven't the slightest idea on how to use it.

Arizona holds the distinction this year of being the state with the most initiatives, amendments and referrendums on the ballot, a total of 19. 8 of them are constitutional amendments, 2 are referrendums, the final 9 are initiatives.

The amendments are easy, basically change the constitution. So too the initiatives, which are the people petitioning and essentially making law. The referrendums are referred from the state legislature to the electorate, requesting them to make the final decision.

As much as I respect the Democratic process, I can't help but be cynical. First off, the turnout will be low, probably a lot less than 50%. Secondly, we'll end up with those 19 issues being decided by a bunch of people (us) who will have, by and large, spent less time than the legislators even reading the issue. Most of the legislators have their aides give them synopsis of the issues, sort of a Cliff Notes version of the issues. Finally, most of these issues we the people are supposed to make decisions on will end up being challenged in the courts and never even become laws anyways. Billions down the drain. Flushhhhhhh.

The process has become the problem rather than the solution. It's Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan. It's a mythical monster that survives with or without constituents. Face it, when Jesus comes to take us home, the bureaucracy will most likely continue to run for eternity. People are no longer in charge. Electorate or elected, neither can work or decide efficiently any more.

Solution? I have none. I'm still in the ask a question stage.

I end with a memorial to a more definitive time.