clouds

My routine after a visit to Salinas Valley State Prison is to detox in a fast foodjoint, usually in Gonzales. Gonzales is larger than a village but smaller than a city.  Like Soledad, it’s a sweltering, dusty, flat, Latino-majority farm town.

    I stop at Dairy Queen, and am annoyed at my lack of anger at what has just transpired. But I think, at least I wasn’t passive AND sheepish. It is such an ordeal to visit. Wear the right clothes, be an hour early, pray there isn’t ’a lockdown, hope the Correction Officers are in a decent mood, hope there isn’t a screw up, hope there isn’t willful maliciousness, hope, hope, hope. 

     Last visit I had to go back to my car to put away my eyeglasses’ string-retainer, otherwise it would be thrown away or I would be denied visitation. My glasses’ retainer had passed the security check every previous time.  So, I had to walk outside, in the frying Salinas Valley sun with neither hat nor sunglasses, as they are forbidden for visitors. The walking back doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that it’s a half-mile walk back to the visitors’ parking lot.  It’s the degradation. The arbitrary calls the Correction Officers make. The unchallenged power they excise. I did everything I was supposed to and they were shitheads.

     But that was last time. Today, I’d been early, wearing clothing approved in my previous visits. I had written my name in the visitors’ podium check-in sheets, walked to the counter, asked for a pass, got one, filled it in and placed it on the counter with my driver’s license.

     The C.O. took it, faced a computer, and logged in the data. I sat nearby on the other side of the red waiting line and untied my shoes. Before my second shoe was untied, a C.O. eyeballed me and called my inmate’s name.

     “Garcia! Rojelio Garcia!”

     I stood, crossed the red-taped line.

     “Visitation denied.”

     I absorbed this and was aware and annoyed by my response. I’m calm. But I know calmness is required. Loud protestations or obscenity will not only accomplish nothing, it will mark me and the C.O.s remember. They then have the choice to dick with me and God only knows what they can do to my former student, Rojelio. It is within their power to kill him.    

     “Why?” I asked. My tone is neutral, my facial expression the same. No over reaction, no anger.  I continue, “It’s 11:50. I’m ten minutes early.”

   “Your appointment is for 12:00.”

   “Twelve? I made this appointment in Massachusetts on Monday. Melissa made the appointment.”

    All the C.O.s behind the counter faced me when I had said “Massachusetts”. Bet that’s not something you’ve ever heard before.

    The C.O. I’m dealing with is huge. Although he appears 100% Anglo, his name tag reads Jarez. He can’t speak a word of Spanish.  I’ve seen him request a Spanish translator more than once. He smells of indifference and boredom.  I know I have no chance. This Jarez does not care.

     “Ain’t nobody named Melissa workin’ here.” He points in the direction of the computer “Computer says 12:00 appointment.”

     “What if someone made a mistake with my booking? I’ll wait if an opening comes up.”

     He places his elbows on the counter and puts his face closer to my head.“Don’t matter. Ain’t no more appointment slots. We’re all booked. I’d have to kick somebody out for you to go in.”

     Jarez stares at me. Then he gives me a pink, eight-and-a-half by eleven-inch piece of paper. It is a Visitation Denied notice. It is my second one.  I recognize Officer Oldbie sitting in a room directly behind Jarez. She’s blonde, maybe twenty-four and on the phone. She also does visitor bookings.  I point at her “When officer Oldbie is done, at her convenience, can I speak to her?”

      Jarez says, “Won’t change a thing. Ain’t got no more appointments.” He stares at me, expressionless. I believe he wants me to challenge him.

      “Is there a commanding officer present?”  But I have a bad feeling about what he’s going to say next.

      “Yeah….it’s me.”

      I suppress a laugh. Better make some positive use of this time. It’s only a forty- seven mile drive one-way.

 “Officer Jarez, can I ask some related questions about visiting?”

  “You can ask.” It is said dead pan.

  “As far as mail sent to inmates goes. I know soft cover books are approved and hard covers are forbidden. What about plastic covers?” I’m asking because Rojelio wants Mao Tse Tung’s, The Little Red Book. Used on Amazon it’s $89.00 but it comes in a plastic cover.

   “If it’s hard, nope. If it soft, yup.”

   Fair enough answer, I suppose. Didn’t really expect better from him.

   I have brought with me, first time ever, a plastic Ziploc bag. In it are eight photos.  Rojelio requested photos. Something to talk about, some external stimulus. I unzip the bag and hand them to Jarez. “Would these be allowed in?”

   Jarez flips through them. He pulls out the one postcard. “Hey, Aguirre,” he says to a nearby C.O. “What about this?”

    It is an aerial photo of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Nothing less, nothing more.  The rest are of my family sitting around a table. 

    “As long as there isn’t any writing on the back,” says Aguirre,”  It’s okay.”

    Jarez flips it and looks. “It would be okay.” He says to me. “Yeah, they are all okay. Ya’ can only bring in ten.”

    “Thanks,” I say.

    I neaten them up in a pile and place them back in my Ziploc bag and zip it closed. Officer Oldbie hangs up her phone and approaches the counter. She smiles.  “I overheard some of your conversation.”

   “Officer Oldbie,” I say, “I know you didn’t make my appointment. Any recommendations for the future?”

    “We’re all human and people make mistakes. I’d say after you make your appointment, call again on Friday to reconfirm your time.”

     She stands out for many reasons. I’ve noticed her before. She’s the only one who seems to have empathy for the visitors. She’s always come across as uncomfortable when there is conflict. A little nervous. She watches the visitors. My sense is she watches us to gage how we feel.

      “That’s very reasonable. Thanks, Officer Oldbie.”

       I turn go out the door, and drive to Gonzales, order a #6 - Cheese Burger Combo - fries and a Coke. $4.79. before tax.

    I look out the window as I wait for my order. Across the valley on the west side, clouds billow upward above the top ridge. But the clouds aren’t right. They are reddish brown, born of fire. Birthed in the Los Padres Big Sur wildfires.

I realize I’m actually not so calm.

Big Sur isn’t the only thing burning.