Date: Tue, 3 Dec 2013 01:22:59 -0500
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: The  Roommate   Chapter 11

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The Roommate    Chapter 11    To Home Again

From the end of Chapter 10

I went to the outer waiting room for Beau to finish his exit strip search,
and soon he too left shaking Lt. Hughes' hand with genuine vigor.

We walked out of the administration building, and headed for my car.

"Well that was certainly educational...especially for one of us I bet.
Sometime soon we will have to renew that discussion of involuntary
servitude and the punishment of incarceration in a non-slave state
prison. But all that can wait."  Beau said as we walked away toward my car.

I looked at him, but said nothing but just nodded.

"By that way." Beau said as he assessed my sudden speechlessness.  "Do you
want me to drive so relieve you of excessive movement on your posterior?"

I smiled.  "Good idea.  I may just sit lightly in the passenger seat."

"While we're driving back to Williams, we'll have a long talk."

Again Beau gave me his most laconic smile and nodded.



CHAPTER 11 TO HOME AGAIN

The Thanksgiving Adventures Continue

In all actuality, I really wanted to escape Hampden Correctional Facility.
I think I must have the same feeling that a real inmate has after
experiencing the horrors of incarceration for a long period of time.  I did
not need years...as I suspect neither did the inmate who had to spend years
there... to know that it was a horrible experience.  I thought of the man
who was making the scarves like the one Beau was taking to his daughter.
Was his experience truly "rehabilitation"?  I doubted it. He had found a
way to feel some self-worth in a place where he and all the inmates were
constantly reminded that they had little or no self-worth.  In truth I was
shaken.  Many of my normal concepts of being in prison did not seem all
that true anymore.  I suspect that it is the rare inmate who after spending
time in this warehouse of demeaning and dangerous existence leaves with any
idea other than I have survived hell.  Certainly he knows that the state is
not interested too much in rehabilitation and the chief function is that
old phrase, make the inmate "pay for his crime."

I also questioned whether the primitive idea that a sore butt really was
the key to an improved person.  My butt certainly reminded me that if I
were an inmate in the SHU that I would not ever try to communicate from one
cage to another, and I would not make contact with the steel mesh which
held me inside.

I remembered that my Father had indeed paddled me on two occasions.  I do
not remember what action on my part had provoked this primitive response
from my father, but I do remember that the result of the experience for me
was anger at my father, and not contrition and a desire to improve.  I was
leaving Hampden Correctional realizing that the actual name of the place
was a somewhat ironic, or worse, a deliberate piece of hypocrisy.  What was
being corrected there?  Absolutely nothing.  What was being learned there?
On this one I was not sure, but I suspect what was being learned here was
how much society is willing and anxious to punish, demean, and destroy the
person and the family of those who have, for whatever reason, broken the
rules of society.

One day and one paddling had made clear to me that the whole justice system
which I had so staunchly defended to Beau was crueler, more discriminatory,
and more hypocritical than I would never have believed.  I walked out of
the front door of the Administration Building of Hampden Correctional
Facility with no faith in the totally misnamed Department of Correction.

I was so deep in thought that I did not hear Lieutenant Hughes call Beau
back to the door of the Administration Building.  I only stopped when Beau
broke into my diatribe by yelling "Frank!  Stop for a minute.  Lieutenant
Hughes is calling back for me."  I stopped, but not because I really cared
what Lieutenant Hughes wanted.  This was a man who had delivered me to pain
and humiliation.  I suspect I felt in some degree what any inmate newly
released from prison feels, and that is more anger and little appreciation
for the educational and helpful correction from the Commonwealth of
Massachusetts.

I did stop however.  I did have a fear to disobey.  I was not so far away
from the facility that Lieutenant Hughes could not have me retaken into the
place.  I immediately thought to myself, "Frank you are being paranoid.
You are over reacting." But I also knew that the experiences of today would
not be something soon forgotten.  No, I knew that today was truly one of
the days that I would remember for the rest of my life.

I saw Beau go back and take some sort of tube from Lieutenant Hughes.  As
he approached me I knew I should stop to wait for him, but the stronger
emotion I had was to just keep on moving away from this place.  Reason lost
to emotion, and I keep moving quickly toward my car.

"Wait Frank!" Beau called after me.

I smiled my inward smile.  No I was not going to wait for Beau.  It was
going to be awful to admit to him that he might very well be correct and
that the involuntary servitude system of the rest of the country might
actually not be all that worse, and might be better than what I had
experienced that day.

I kept walking toward my car and my escape from the inside and even the
grounds of Hampden.

"SHIT BUDDY" Beau growled when he caught up with me.  "What are you trying
to do?  You act like you are in some sort of race to get back to the car."

I chose to continue my petulance with the snotty reply. "SO!?"  As soon as
I said that reply, I actually smiled and not just inside me, but I felt the
smile on my face.

"Frank STOP.  They are not coming to take you back.  I do NOT need to get
into a race with you.  STOP!"

Finally some reason returned to me, and I stopped.

"GOD DAMN Frank what in the Hell is wrong with YOU?" was Beau's reaction to
the foot race which I had created in my dash to escape the Hampden.

"Beau I want to go home. NOW."

"Frank that is sure as shit clear to me.  However, Lieutenant Hughes gave
me this bottle of cream which will help with the pain and the swelling that
your beautiful butt is now experiencing."

"Well I hope you don't expect me to go back there and thank him, do you?"

"No Frank...I am sorry.  I see that the SHU really shook you and your
beliefs.  I am sorry to yell at you.  Frank, I will never bring this
experience back up to you.  We will work to forget it."

I finally realized my irrational behavior.  Where was the Williams College
confident and secure freshman?  I needed him back.

"I'm sorry Beau.  I should not snap at you.  I am not mad at you."  I
paused here.

Beau looked at me, and his normal smile and ready banter disappeared.

"Frank I really cannot begin to understand what a shock the SHU, and
perhaps all that we saw here today has been to you.  I only wanted to give
to you this salve which Lieutenant Hughes wanted me to give to you to
relieve swelling."

I realized that I was not acting rationally.  I stopped at the car.
Looking across the top of the car at Beau I finally got my thoughts
together enough to tell Beau what was truly keeping me agitated.

"Beau, today has made me be a lot less sure about my position about the
rest of the states' use of involuntary servitude.  However, I suspect that
in those states there may be difference in situations like the difference
between Enfield and Hampden.

I have no doubt that the involuntary servants at your plantation are well
treated, but I remember reading a book about how the whites in the South
after the Civil War used the legal system to actually re-enslave many Black
men into a hellish existence of being overworked, whipped, given terrible
food and actually lived a slave life much worse than existed for Blacks
under the old slavery system.  Now the white farm, mine, or factory owner
had to only pay a few dollar fine for one of the almost endless series of
crimes for which a Black man could be convicted, such as loitering, and
then take than Black man in chains to his farm, factory, or mine, keep his
housed in squalor, and keep him working until he died or collapsed all for
pennies a day.  White guards for these convict slaves were paid little, and
little was spend on the health and safety of the black workers.  Others had
told me that the book exaggerated, but the images remained in my memory.
Beau I know you would not do anything like that, but does something like
that happen with your involuntary servants at other plantations, factories
or other placed using these servants?"

I stopped when I realized that I had just rambled off topic.  "I just don't
know now what I believe now." I finally said.

 By this time we were at the car.  Beau unlocked the doors, and I gingerly
sat down.  Beau got in and started the car.  "Frank you are going to have
to guide me back to your home, so keep alert."

I realized that I did have a responsibility to get us back to my home, and
so I guided Beau back to my home.  During all this time, I we only
discussed directions.  Finally we were in our driveway.  I looked over at
Beau.  He looked at me, and could tell he was going to begin a serious
conversation by the way he turned to me as soon as the engine was turned
off.

"Frank how are we going to discuss this day with you Dad?  You know he is
going to want to know all about our experience.  We know that your Dad used
his influence to get us into parts of those prisons that no normal citizen
would ever see, and especially the SHU.  Before we go in we need a plan."

I looked at Beau.  He was right.  My Father would indeed do his impression
of the Great Inquisitors Beau continued taking charge.  "Since I am the one
who had the least knowledge about the prison system in these
non-involuntary servitude states, I will take the lead, and you can just
add information now and then.  I imagine that your Dad is most interested
in my reaction, and he will just expect you to support the system you saw.
I think I can keep you Dad interested, and all you need to do is to chime
in now and then and otherwise just nod as I make a point."  I nodded
assent.

We exited the car, and went into the house.

"There you are!" my Mother exclaimed as we entered.  "The prison called to
tell us it was on lockdown, and you would be stuck inside a cell block
until it was over, and so we all went ahead and ate.  But there is plenty
left, and we will have it on the table in no time.  Why don't you go up and
get changed.  You've been in those clothes all day, and I know you might
want to change before dinner."  She then sort of stiffed in our direction
and added "And perhaps you want to shower to get that "prison" smell off
you.  I sometimes notice it when you Dad comes back from a prison
inspection.  I really do not know what they do in those places that makes
them smell so funny.  Well, anyway you boys go up and shower and change and
by the time you are done, we'll have everything ready for you."  My Mom
smiled at both of us.  Actually both Beau and I were a bit overwhelmed at
her torrent of words, and so we both just nodded and went back to our
bedrooms.

I assume what Beau did and I did, and that was to follow my Mother's
advice, and I took a nice hot shower, and dried myself off on one of our
thick soft towels.  I think I had never appreciated these luxuries before.
They had always been a part of my life.  Now I knew that they were not a
part of everyone's life, and so became, perhaps for the first time,
sincerely thankful for the luxuries I had in my home and life.

I heard a knock at my door and when put a towel around my waist and then I
answered it. There was Beau with the tube of salve.

"Frank I am sorry. I forgot to give this to you.  Do you need it?"

In fact I had not really sat down from the time I had entered my bedroom
and immediately went into the bathroom to take my shower.  I suddenly
realized that I had not felt unusual pain as I had showered.  Perhaps I did
not need the stuff, I thought.

I went into my bathroom and looked at my butt in the mirror.  I might not
think I needed the salve, but the butt was still black and blue.  I went
back out of my bathroom.

"Actually, I think I am in reasonably good shape.  Leave it here, and if I
need it later I will come back and put it on."  I really do not want to
embarrass myself or Beau with his having to rub the salve on my butt.  I
know we had been through Hell today, together, but now that we had escaped
hell, I was feeling better.

.

Beau then did something that surprised me. He came over to me and hugged
me.  "Frank, I am proud of you!" Beau said.  "You went through some serious
Hell today, and to look this good so soon after is really a compliment to
your character.  Frank, seriously, I am impressed.  I had no idea you were
this strong."

I looked at Beau, and I could tell that both he, and now myself, were
really caught up in the moment.  I was a bit uncomfortable with this male
bonding that I sensed, and so answered.

"Beau, I appreciate your comment, but I know you were just trying to get
out of rubbing my butt."

Beau laughed, and the mood changed.  Beau put down the tube of cream with a
"Maybe later you will need a bit.  I think just to thank Lieutenant Hughes
you should use some of it to thank him for the gesture."

I nodded, and I think perhaps I was thankful that this reasoning could
allow me to use the cream and still preserve my male ego.

I decided I needed a butt test before going down to eat.  I went over to
the desk that was in my room, pulled out the chair and sat down.  DAMN IT
HURT.  I decided I would indeed try some of the salve.  I went over to the
tube, and unscrewed the cap.  The stuff had a sort of medicinal smell, but
was not too pronounced.  I squeezed some on my hand and began rubbing my
butt.

There was a sort of cooling feeling which came to the area on which I had
placed the cream.  I decided that the cooling was nice enough to rub the
cream all over even if it did nothing else for me.  I took a bit of time to
finish the entire area of the black and blue abused skin.  I put the lid
back on the tube and waited to see if I was feeling anything different.  I
was not sure.  Somehow it did not feel like anything had happened, but I
reasoned, even if it did not help, it certainly had not hurt.  I went back
into my bathroom, washed my hands, and went to my stash of aftershave and
splashed on my face, I thought perhaps if my aftershave was strong no one
would notice my butt cream smell.

Fortified with something to help me sit, and with camouflage of aftershave
I ventured to go downstairs for dinner.  As I went into the dining room, I
heard my Father and Beau, talking, and my Mother making a side comment.  I
wondered what Beau had been telling my parents.

"Welcome son," my Father said as I entered.  I was a bit taken aback.  I
could not remember my Father addressing me in this manner ever, I was
always "Frank" or when he was irritated or formal "Franklin."

"Beau has been explaining how thorough and careful you were in our trips
today.  I was impressed that you insisted, and Lieutenant Hughes had enough
respect for you two to allow you into the SHU.  Authorities do not allow
any but the most respected and trustworthy into that unit.

It speaks well of you both.  Beau also has told me that when the lockdown
came you were in the unit and actually you were both in cells, and of
course when a lockdown is declared, the doors all close and so you had to
spend the lockdown in a SHU cell.  I am sure that experience made really
experienced how restricted those cells are.  The SHU was made to punish,
and that included making sure that the inmate felt the walls."

At this point, I had a lot of desire to say a whole lot to tell my Father a
whole lot about the SHU, and the discipline and inhumane isolation of the
inmates there... even to their limited recreation.

However, I decided to go for something noncommittal.

"Yes Dad, I think that both Beau and I are thankful that we never will
actually have to spend much time in a situation like the SHU."

"Beau also described that before Lieutenant Hughes could get back to you in
the SHU you had been served dinner.  We really howled laughing at his
description of the food.  I am sure you are ready to have something a bit
better here."

.

"Yes Father, I will have to tell you that the food I had there was the
worst eating experience I have ever had, and that includes the time my
friend in fourth grade shared his sandwich with me, only that it was a
prank and the sandwich was mud."

Beau beamed at me, and I smiled back at him.  Beau had worked his magic,
and had given my parents enough information to satisfy them and not cause
us to be peppered with endless questions, and also disarmed the whole
experience and allowed to conversation to move to food.

Soon we were talking about the magnificent left overs, and lunch at Tony's
Grinders.

Soon I was eating and Beau and my family were safely on Tony and his
family.

I managed to sit gingerly, and appreciated that the cream did seem to help.
As I was eating, Beau was describing all that he had noticed at Tony's and
around Springfield.  I admired how he had managed to move the conversation
from out trips to prison and on to safer areas.  I do not think I had ever
before really noticed how truly skilled Beau was with people and perceptive
about the world around him.  I had respected his intelligence, and his
people skills, but now I realized that Beau had these skills to a degree
most people did not have, and especially at his age.

The fortunes of the plantations and enterprises of the family of Beauregard
Jackson Thomas Masterson would be in very good hands when Beau took them
over.

After my family had been entertained by Beau and seemed satisfied that they
knew enough about our day not to pepper us with more questions, I excused
myself with the explanation that the day had been long, and I needed my
sleep.  Beau also excused himself, and soon Beau and I were back upstairs
at our bedrooms.

There was a fairly quiet knock at my door.  I went there, and asked "Whose
there?"

"It's me Frank." came the reply.

I opened the door.  I could not resist.  "Actually Dean's List Scholar, it
should be "It is I"

because "is" is a linking verb and needs a nominative pronoun like "I"
after it.

As soon as this bit of fourth grade petulance was over, I laughed, and so
did Beau.

"Frank tomorrow I want to deliver the scarves to that inmate's kids.  I
also want to add some other items to help the family.  Will you help me do
some shopping tomorrow before we head back to school."

"Absolutely.  I did not talk with the inmate, but I was impressed with what
they were doing.  I want to add something from me also.  You have the name
and the address don't you?"

"Absolutely.  While you were concentrating on getting out of Hampden,
Lt. Hughes gave me the two scarves, and the names of his children, and also
the name and address of this wife.  The children are eight and ten. I will
be happy to have you help me play Santa.  I really did get quite a good
feeling talking with the inmate whose name is Daniel Myers.  He has two
children.  April is eight, and Dan is ten.  His wife's name is Margaret,
and she goes by Margie.  Lieutenant Hughes even was able to give me her
phone number from Myers' phone authorization list."

Beau paused here, and I nodded my understanding of what he had been telling
me.

"I am going to call her and see if there is a time we can deliver the
scarves, and some additional gifts that I am going to buy so that Santa can
really give these children one great Christmas."

I looked at Beau with renewed appreciation for his real concern for others.

"Well Beau, I want to help also, and I will be sure that Santa's concern
for this family does not only happen for one year."

Beau looked at me, and smiling slapped me on my back.  "You know if you
keep surprising me with actions like that you are likely to get put a crimp
in what we in the South know is the predilection of Yankees to be selfish
and cruel to the lower classes."

I stared at Beau.  Could it really be that Southerners really thought we
were that uncharitable and unfeeling?  Immediately I knew the answer.  Of
course they could, just like Beau assured me that Yankee's opinion of all
Southern slave owners as cruel and keeping naked slaves under the lash and
in pens worse than any farm animal would be kept in.  I knew Yankees were
not as bad as Beau had thought we were.  Could I be wrong about the
condition of their involuntary servants?  Well enough of that for now.
Beau and I now had to face Christmas shoppers.  We went down for breakfast.

When we arrived at breakfast I outlined our plans for Saturday to my Mother
and oldest sister.  I thought both Beau and I needed a little help in
picking out presents.  I was almost one hundred percent sure that my Mother
would really be into the plan.

"Boys!" she exclaimed.  "I am just thrilled that you thought of this plan!
You bet we will help.

In fact, if you would like, I will go shopping with you.  ( I thought to
myself that going shopping was more a treat for Mother than a burden, but
that thought was not truly accurate.  She did love shopping, but I also
knew that she would be totally in favor of Beau's plan.)  "All these plans
were Beau's ideas." I explained.  "He saw the children's Father at Hampden
knitting scarves for veterans, went over to talk with him, and discovered
that he had been given permission to knit two scarves for his children."  I
momentarily again thought how completely the life of an inmate is
controlled.  He had to get permission to knit those scarves for his own
children.  Beau said that he was going to call to find a time to take
presents over when the children would not know what was happening.

"Well, you make the call, but when you open the subject of presents, you
give the phone to me.

His wife and I will take care of the shopping list." my Mother said firmly.
I think I could detect real happiness in the thought of helping the family
as well as her absolute joy in shopping.

Leaving the dining room, Beau and my Mother went into the kitchen to make
the call.  After several minutes they returned with both showing real
excitement.

"It's all set up!" my Mother said.  The children already have a Christmas
pageant practice scheduled for later this afternoon and so Beau and I will
be ready to be Santa's helpers during that time.  With that, plans were
made to brave the holiday shoppers for our Santa's helper shopping.

I will not bore you with the tale of the sopping; however, it was indeed a
blessing that my Mother came with us and directed the shopping.  Almost
nothing that eventually was purchased for the two children would have been
what Beau and I would have chosen.  Beau did insist on a couple of items of
his choice – bicycles for each child.  He arranged for the bicycles to
be delivered Christmas Eve.

When we got to the Myers' home we saw a home that showed the need of some
maintenance.

Beau's comment, "There is a need of a man around this property."

We knocked at the door and a neatly dressed women, probably 5'10" answered
the door.  She was wearing clean but clearly not new slacks and a blouse.

"Welcome all of you!" she said.  She seemed a bit flustered... perhaps
nervous.

My Mother immediately showed her years of experience in visiting people.

"Mrs. Myers, we are delighted to meet you.  Thank you for allowing us to
help out, and Beau really wants to deliver the scarves your husband knitted
for his two children."

At this time Beau produced the two scarves, and Mrs. Myers smiled and then
began crying.

"Thank you so much for bringing these to us.  Dan told me he had knitted
them, and had written their names in them with a needle and thread."  As
she was saying this she was examining the two scarves, and then her face
brightened.  "There they are.  Personalized for each of them!  I just am
overwhelmed.  THANK YOU THANK YOU."  At this point she began crying and
again my Mother came to the rescue.

"Let me help make some tea.  I always think a cup of hot tea always makes
me feel better, and I hope it will do the trick for you too."

As the two disappeared into the kitchen, Beau and I went back to the car,
and brought all the other items in from the car, and Beau brought pictures
of the two bikes to show Mrs. Myers what would be delivered.

About then my Mother and Mrs. Myers appeared.  I noticed my Mother seemed
angry.  I wondered what Mrs. Myers could have said that would have changed
her cherry happiness and helping with this Christmas project into what I
recognized as real anger... shown with her normal gentility, but showing
real anger to those who know her.

"Boys, I see that you have brought the other presents into the house.
Follow Margie (I assumed that over tea, Margaret had become Margie to my
Mother.) to where she has planned to hide the presents."

When we returned, my Mother again hugged Mrs. Myers, and then hurried us
out of the house.

I was totally mystified by this behavior.  I had expected to have to pry
her away from her Thanksgiving-Christmas good deed.

When we got into the car, she exploded.

"Drive back to the house.  I have to speak to your Father." she said with
anger in her voice.

I was trying to decide whether to ask what the problem was when my Mother
exploded.

"Margie is a CPA, and with her husband in prison somehow that has made it
difficult for her to obtain a job.  She was `reduced' from the firm she had
worked at for seven years when her husband's conviction was in the paper.
She has taken sales clerk and other jobs just to keep food on the table.
Well, she decided to try again for an accountant's job since some time had
transpired, and was in the final interview with the Waterman Corporation."
This information caused me to really begin paying attention.

The Waterman Corporation was one of the companies in which I had interned
as it was a company in which we had a substantial interest.  I think we
actually were the majority owner of stock in the company, although, as we
normally did, the shares were parceled out to several holding and
investment firms...all of which we owned though not directly... so that we
could keep our position quiet.  It was a part of my family's desire not to
allow our substantial wealth to become common knowledge.  We actually
allowed for clear family ownership of only a few businesses to be known
which validated our substantial home and lifestyle, but our total holdings
were like an iceberg...more was hidden than seen.

"The head of the accounting department told Margie that it was corporate
policy, not his, but direct from the owners, not to hire any relative in
these types of financial positions who had a near relative in prison.  He
expressed regret but said his hands were tied.  I plan to have a chat with
your Father as soon as we arrive home at this policy."

For the remainder of the trip home she just sat and stared.  Beau and I
each decided that silence was the best policy for us also.  When we arrived
home, my Mather was out of the car, and into the house before Beau and I
could really get ourselves out and inside ourselves.

The outcome of this situation was that my Father was able to prove that he
had never instituted such a policy and proved that his assertion was true
to my Mother's satisfaction.  However, when Beau and I were back at
Williams after Thanksgiving the head of the accounting department resigned
to take another unspecified position, and the new head called and hired
Mrs. Myers.

I later discovered that the former head of the accounting department was
now employed in another of the firms we controlled, but as AN accountant,
and was eventually made to report to volunteer teaching accounting in a
local prison – Hampden Correctional Center – and that it was clear
that if he wished to continue to be employed that his students should be
able to find jobs upon release or else he would be released also.  I was
satisfied with the poetic justice.

Beau and I had a long talk about northern justice on our trip back to
Williams.  I admitted that no longer was I so positive that the criminal
justice system of the North was absolutely superior to the rest of the
country's use on involuntary servants.

I will not bore you with every event of the rest of our freshman year at
Williams.  Beau and I were friends for life, I was sure of that.  Our
experiences as roommates at Williams, and certainly on our educational
experiences at Enfield and Hampden was a life-long bond.

At the end of the Freshman year, Beau tried to get me to come south to
Tennessee, but my Father continued to have me occupied in internships "to
learn the business" and so I was never able to take him up on the offer
that year or any summer for our years at Williams.

When Beau came back to Williams at the beginning of the sophomore year he
and his Father had reassessed the advisability of Beau's joining a
fraternity.  He did join that year.  He continued to come home with me
every Thanksgiving, and continued to charm my family completely.

 After four years, Beau graduated Magna Cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa, and
President of the Student Senate.  I was a loyal member of the class, also
Magna Cum Laude, and Phi Beta Kappa but, following family tradition, not
active in student government.  I just basked in my friendship with one of
the most illustrious members of my class at Williams.  I did tell my Father
that as Beau continued telling me that he had visited our prisons, and I
had not reciprocated, and my Father agreed that in the summer following
graduation I could visit Beau on his family's farm (read plantation ) and
obtain some first-hand knowledge of what involuntary servitude was like.

I even had extracted from my Father... and I suspect mostly because of how
much he liked Beau... That I could spend as much time as I wanted with
Beau, and I was released from my summer employment and learning obligation
to the family.


More chapters to come about Frank traveling South and learn the truth about
the lives of the involuntary servitude method of serving a sentence for
committing a crime.

I appreciate your feedback for my stories.  Some authors are stronger in
their confidence than I am, and do not need or desire knowing someone was
reading their work.  I do.  I hope you continue to read and enjoy.  daw