Thursday, June 21, 2007

I've Been Moved

Well, it's finally happened, after three months I've been moved to another pod. But, the funny thing is, I'm back at the pod I left in February. I was told I'd be going to a larger pod, but I'm back at the old stand. Another CRO told me she was told I would be training with her so I could work in her assignment when she went on vacation in July. This still could happen. Anything could happen!

I'm not upset to be back were I spent so much time. It's quieter that the one I've been in. Much quieter. This pod is nicknamed "Thunderdome" because of the noise made by the younger, more boistrous males housed here. Yes, it lives up to it's name, but it's also quieter in than there is less coming and going - or at least so it seems. In 2, it seemed like someone was in and out the door all the time - clergy, nurses, inmates going to and from court, GED, Medical, video court, advisory and so forth. Pod stewards coming in and leaving three times a days. Staff, attorneys, and other "official" visitors. Then, of course, there are the scheduled visitors five times during my shift. This pod generally has about 180 inmates - sometimes more, sometimes less. The new pod has around 130 inmate right now, very low for it's capacity (which in some ways is good).

Maybe it's because there are fewer inmates. The same things happen in every pod, but there doesn't seem to be as much movement. It's generally quieter and for me, that's a good thing.
The Stranger Who Knew All The Answers

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.

If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.

Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)

Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... Not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.

I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.

More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.. His name?...

We just call him, "TV."

**Note: This should be required reading for every household in America!**

He has a wife now....We call her "Computer."