Archive for May 23rd, 2008

Oh well, it’s almost over

May 23, 2008

Next February is the long-awaited conversion to HD and digital TV. Today, I cashed in my two $40 government issued coupons toward the purchase of two digital/analog converters. I’m already suspicious. When does the government mandate something and then help us pay for it? Is somebody’s brother-in-law making these things? Whatever.

Being an antenna “holdout” is an experience. I expect, however, to see a cable bill for gasoline tradeoff anytime now. Our neighborhood still has a practice of antennae hooked to chimneys … which is a good thing. In our case, we don’t have much of an attic to do any maneuvering. It is difficult enough to get a proper signal for all the channels as it is even when you can see what you’re doing. Small blessing.

On another subject. Each time I see a W04 sticker on the back window of an automobile, I can’t resist trying to get a peek at the driver. A 2000 campaign sticker I can understand, but one for the 2004 election? Perhaps there are localized news blackouts or some simply don’t listen to the radio or watch TV much, or have any expectations as Americans in the world. Or maybe it’s back to that yellow dog on a ticket type of thing. I know the ticket won, but the temptation to examine each perpetrator is strong indeed. Oh well, it’s almost over.

A pair of legs was all I could see

May 23, 2008

What do I do? What should I say? These were but a couple of the many questions swirling about as I walked toward the first cell on the bottom walk of the housing unit. Inside the cell was someone I had never seen, someone I knew nothing about. That’s not completely true. His name and his death sentence were made know to me prior to my driving to the prison for my first visit.

That day, seven years ago, was a life-changing series of events for me and a series of “firsts.”  I had never spoken to a man who was incarcerated. I had never seen a human being locked in a box. I had never seen a capital offender other than in the movies, on TV, or in a newspaper.

A solid steel door with a small narrow window revealed little in advance. Approaching, I wondered if I should peek in, knock and wait, say his name. I decided to do combination of knock, peek, and speak.

A pair of legs was all I could see. Whoever the fellow was, he was standing on the toilet bowl while talking into the vent. Every two cells are mirror images, both on the top walk and the bottom walk. This is in order to share common plumbing and ventilation. Four offenders, therefore, can speak with some privacy. Those further away can be reached by yelling.

Once I had his attention, and he had signed off on his conversation, I was given a most cheerful greeting. We spoke for about ½ hour. He was a prolific reader and found the prison library somewhat lacking in overall capacity as well as content. I also learned that he had about a year left to live; all of his appeals had been exhausted. His prediction regarding his longevity was correct.

During that year, I saw him several times. Conversations were always interesting. He never wavered in his politeness and well-spoken manner. Even as his date drew near, he displayed a dignity the likes of which I can only dream to maintain in my own life.

I’ve thought of him often. He was instrumental in my ministry’s getting off to a solid and productive start. I miss him.