Institutionalized

Derek was on for murder. He said he didn’t mean to kill the guy, but that is what guns do. A drunken argument that escalated too fast and the next thing he knew he was in a cage. Because Derek didn’t have any family to pick him up out of prison, it was my job to drive him back to one of the local halfway houses run by a church group. It was a two and a half hour drive, plenty of time for us to get to know each other, but it didn’t seem like he had a lot to say. 

Derek was older and looked very much like he did 20 years in the maximum level state penitentiary. Full sleeve tattoos with no color, just faded black and grey skulls and spiderwebs. He shaved his head and had the stereotypical handlebar mustache, now aged platinum white. Standard white t shirt and jeans. He was not a big guy, but yoked from years on the weight pile. His ice blue eyes sent a message of a hardened man; they pierced right through me, serious as a heart attack. I made my usual joke to help break the ice, asking him if he wanted to drive. That one usually kills, but not this time, he looked at me like I insulted him. It was going to be a long two and a half hours. 

“Do you want to listen to a podcast on the way?” I asked.

“What’s a podcast?”

I put one on anyway. As we got closer to home I asked if he wanted to call the church to let them know he was almost there. When I handed him my cell phone, he looked at me confused. Oh – of course, I gotta unlock it. I handed it back, he was still confused. 

“I don’t know how to work one of these, I don’t know cell phones.” I forgot, 20 years ago cell phones where not as common as they are now, and there was no such thing as a smart phone. A world of information in the palm of your hand, now used mostly for selfies and to watch Bigfoot videos. Yay progress. At the next stop light I worked it out for him. I dropped him off and scheduled our first office interview the next day.

Derek was considered high risk, so he had a lot to accomplish while on parole. Ankle monitor, curfew, drug programs, anger management, and meeting with his PO all the time. This is usually a recipe for failure, too much for a person who spent almost half his life enclosed in cement and control. Most don’t make it, rushing to embrace freedom, and by freedom I mean drugs. But Derek was different, he did everything he was supposed to do, one step at a time. There were no loose ends, no concerns. Derek ran his life outside like his life inside, but now he was the one in charge, matching the ruthlessness of a prison guard onto himself. Derek didn’t soften up over time, my jokes always bombed, but we did talk a lot and I got to know him. I had misunderstood him. Unlike most parolees, his hardened eyes were not loaded with societal scorn, they were focused, disciplined, and driven. 

“You know, on the way out the guards got me a pizza. A fuckin Dominos cheese pizza. It was the best thing I’d ever eaten. Eating prison food for so long, something like that was like heaven. I was so institutionalized this was the best thing I have ever eaten, that’s how deep I was.”

“I’ve been on the inside for 20 years. 20 YEARS, man. I have the internet on my phone now, I can text someone on the other side of the world, for free, anytime I want. I can learn about the weather in Japan, right now. I missed so much, and now I’m back in it. It’s like I forgot what a good thing is, my standards were so low.” 

I nodded, acknowledging his frustration and anger, but again I misunderstood. 

“I’ve never been out of this state man, I’ve never seen snow. I want to see the mountains, the Grand Canyon, the Everglades, I want to learn to surf, drive a car, and jump out of an airplane.” His hardened eyes no longer resembled pain or stress, they now beamed with hope. Derek wasn’t jaded, he was driven.

“I’m getting off parole and I’m gonna see and do it all before I’m dead. Nothing is going to stop me from getting there.”

Derek finished his parole term without any issue. On our last meeting I said goodbye and I happily never saw him again, but he left a mark.

Gratitude is a wonderful thing. Being thankful for what you have and counting your blessings is something we don’t do enough. But that isn’t what I learned from Derek. Sometimes you get used to a certain lifestyle, tolerate it, adopt it, and forget there is better. Life has a way of slowly eating away at your spirit, one nibble at a time; you don’t even know it is happening. Before long you accept the unacceptable. Dominos is great and I am thankful for them, but once you have a wood fired pizza, Dominos isn’t quite as delicious. Sometimes there is more out there, but if you don’t look, you don’t see.

I am certain God didn’t put me on this earth to sit in an office 8-10 hours a day, or to spend a sunny afternoon staring at my phone watching mind mush videos. The world is brilliant, and tomorrow ours will be gone. Stay focused and driven to live your best life before it’s too late. 

I don’t have to go to prison to learn the value in that.