Journal 3
Yesterday I rose from my bunk as any other day. I did my morning routine, Thanked G-d for the beautiful day I was about to enjoy, before heading off to work. While at work there was a rumor that there was a shakedown in my unit. In prison, I’ve learned that rumors (inmate .com) are not worth getting worked up about. But then lunch was being delayed, so there could be some truth to the rumor. Still, no reason for me to get worked up about something I have absolutely no control over (fear). Lunch is called and I return to my unit, and the rumor becomes reality. Inside the unit, open dorm room that houses 50 men, looks as if a bomb exploded. All the lockers are empty, beds are bare, and everybody’s property sits in one big pile in the center of the room. Many men are staring at the mass entanglement of property, a few are sitting in their chairs with elbows upon their knees, hands holding their heads. Others are yelling and shouting anger at the walls. None of it does no good, only thing to do is to dig in and start sorting property. Helping each other collect their property, no difference than a community coming together after a natural disaster. Help thy neighbor.
I’ve learned, so late in life, what I’m in control of and what I’m not in control of. I can only ask myself ‘what can I do that will make a difference in helping others?’ Outside of that, I ask myself ‘ what I can do to better myself from yesterday?’
At the end of the day I can give Thanks to the Lord for the beautiful day that I’ve enjoyed, and for all that I have in life. I can close my eyes as I think of being one day closer to home to my family.
