Back to Prison Cat Tales
I went back to prison last month. Volunteers with brown cards who were vaccinated were allowed back after we stopped at yet another gate to get a wrist band to show we were cleared. That was dismissed a few weeks ago, but nobody will fault the CDC for being overly cautious after so many men needlessly lost their lives to the pandemic during a transfer occurance early during the pandemic.
For over a year, we couldn't write or speak with one another due to regulations and I was at a loss as to what was going on inside. I returned to find a few of the men I knew had died, and a few had been paroled. Everything felt same same but different. I wanted to run up and hug the men I’d worked with over the years but of course, that’s against the rules and the talk was mostly business as usual. What projects were happening, when might basketball start again, how could we best use our time together in the media center.
A few people asked me why I stopped writing this blog and it was difficult to explain that in truth I just kinda stopped everything. I felt empty and depressed. Going into San Quentin was as fulfilling to me as it was for the men. We exchanged energy that was a shared secret; that we really care about you and we want you to never forget that we won’t forget you guys inside. Some of the incarcerated men find it hard to believe that we keep showing up as it is; after a year of rearranging our lives, they had no idea who might come back.
Of course, they wanted to know how it was for me on the outside. I told them my get up and go got up and went. I asked them once again how they keep going but I knew their answer was the same as what ours on the outside was. We go on because we must. Because even when we’ve lost our motivation there’s a kernel of hope. Because we actually don’t have it as bad as we know so many others have it. Because we have family and friends that love us.
I told them at first I thought I’d be very productive now that I was forced to stay home and maybe write some new songs. Finish one of my books. Take online yoga and find some other classes as well. I did none of those things and found that I wasn’t alone in not being able to get anything accomplished. I couldn’t really explain it to them; I still can’t. The feeling lingers as a new strain chases us. I was so happy to return but I can’t help but wonder how long it will be until they shut the prison-doors again.
I wondered if being on lockdown was easier for them than it was for the rest of us. The men on the inside had the same question so I started to do videos with people on the outside about what lockdown was like compared to the men in San Quentin. The answer was obvious. It sucked, it was inconvenient and some people didn't fare well. But most of us knew how good we had it with Doordash and Amazon and thousands of programs to watch on TV.
Of course we missed seeing our friends, our kids, our parents. But it was pretty much business as usual for the incarcerated men who had the added insult of not being able to use the phone or have visitors.
We could go online (there is no access to the Internet in prison) where we could learn absolutely everything we didn’t need to know about all sorts of people we’ve never met. We zoomed in cocktail parties and dinners and even therapy and while we should be grateful we at least had that, it wasn’t quite so satisfying. But we made do.
And of course, we had our pets. In fact, I told them when I returned; there was a shortage of cats and dogs to adopt. I explained to the men who are always curious about my two cats, Waffle and Bocce, that I also got a puppy which I had been wanting ever since our dog died a few years ago. One of my cats created a big stir on Nextdoor when someone posted he was seen roaming around the fields near my home. It got 51 comments which I found very strange. Some were a bit snarky (coyote appetizers) but it was a bit unsettling as I’m not a big fan of social media to begin with. What to do?
They understood when I told them that I couldn’t see keeping my 20 pound Maine Coone cats locked inside all day as they came home before dark for dinner. I asked them - wasn’t it better that they risked what could happen to them being outside rather than being cooped up inside the house all day?
I guess, that was a pretty silly question.
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