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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   inlaws within prison
Saturday, March 26 2011
Gretchen's parents had flown up here yesterday to attend today's college graduation at Eastern Correctional Facility. Originally this graduation had been scheduled for late January, but one of the guards had been killed in a car accident shortly beforehand while transporting a prisoner, and the whole thing had been postponed, resulting in much logistical chaos. Today, though, the graduation was set to go forward. We all got up early and drove down to Napanoch. As with last night's adventures, Gretchen's father was the chauffeur and the car was a rental Chevy Aveo. It looked like a small car designed for biggie-sized people but handled like (and got the gas mileage of) a truck. (Any wonder the American auto industry is dying?)
Usually security during a prison graduation tends to be a bit liberalized, if only because of the logistical demands of getting hundreds of people into and out of the facility in a timely manner. Today, though, the only liberalization appeared to be the toleration of underwire brasiers. After signing in or being signed-in at three different checkpoints (and getting separated from my contingent because of the widow-and-orphan-prone pagination of our groupings), I finally rejoined them in the auditorium. Unlike in past graduations, the prisoner-students were not brought in until later and were not permitted to interact with non-prisoners in the auditorium. Refreshments had been provided, but the refreshment area seemed designed to entrap people with after filling their hands with coffee and bagels; it was a a two-foot-wide cul-du-sac likely to be blocked by one or more people having plenty of junk in the trunk.
At this point, in my involvement with this particular program, I've seen enough of these ceremonies for them all to seem the same. What tend to stand out are the differences. Today these included the harshly enhanced security protocols and the near-continual howling of two babies (children of one of the graduates). When they were eventually, mercifully taken to the back of the auditorium, they could still occasionally be heard, sounding a little like a pack of not-so-distant coyotes.
After the ceremony, we all were herded together into the nearby mess hall, where, for the first time, prisoners and non-prisoners were allowed to mingle. The meal was a special one, built chiefly around cornish game hens, industrial-strength lasagna, and baked potatoes. But there was also at least one completely-vegan dish: a plastic bin full of a cold concoction of beans, corn, peas, and roast squash that had been lightly seasoned with curry powder, and it was good enough for me to go and get a second helping.
The process of getting out of the prison was much slower than it had been after past graduations, partly due to the complication of a medical emergency (a mother had suffered chest pains soon after leaving her graduating son behind to his post-graduation strip search).

Later this evening, the four of us all went to an after-graduation party on the campus of the college half of the college-prison partnership whose graduation we'd just attended. There were a surprising number of young children at this party, indicating that the barrenness of our social circle is more of a self-selection artifact than a reflection of a wider demographic reality. In terms of conversation, I mostly found myself talking to my inlaws about the wind power potential of a cabin they have on a mountain ridge not far from Camp David, Maryland.


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http://asecular.com/blog.php?110326

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