This is a continuation of my last blog, when I talked about picking up Smitty when, after twenty-some years, he was released from a maximum security prison on parole.
A link to the first installment is below.
I pulled out of the prison parking lot and turned left.
Unfortunately, if I wanted to get to town, I should have turned right. We got a bit farther into the mountains, and most vestiges of civilization quickly disappeared. We didn’t see any other cars. When the road turned to gravel and I realized there were no power lines along the road, I conceded that I had gone the wrong way and turned around.
As we passed the prison on our way back, Smitty turned his head and looked determinedly at the trees, at some birds flying overhead, at a convenience store with an empty parking lot—anywhere but at the rolls of razor wire.
Smitty was looking forward to his first post-prison meal. I had a printout of nearby restaurants. My intention was to take him to a family buffet place with lots of choices, most of them reasonably nutritious and an unending selection of desserts.
He had other plans. He wanted pulled pork barbeque, the greasier the better. With coleslaw. And French fries. And root beer.
I reminded him of how sick a lot of recently released inmates became when they got a sudden shock of grease and sugar in place of the bland prison fare. It could take a while for a digestive system to adjust from a diet of mystery meat, dried eggs, overboiled vegetables and mashed potatoes.
His response was, “I don’t care. I’ve been dreaming of pulled pork and French fries every night for the last month.”
“Isn’t it gonna be too hard to drive and look at it if you leave it down there?”
I explained that I didn’t have to see it, the GPS would give us directions by talking to us. He didn’t quite believe that until she spoke up.
The restaurant wasn’t crowded. We got a booth by a window. Smitty didn’t tire of looking out at the world he’d just reentered.
The waitress came by to get out order. Smitty wanted me to order for both of us. “I got to really watch my language. And remember not to stare at women.”
After devouring a huge platter of pulled pork, coleslaw and a double order of fires, Smitty had a piece of lemon meringue pie. He washed it down with five refills of root beer. “You mean they keep filling your glass as much as you want? Without charging each time?”
Finally he just sat there, looking a bit queasy.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m gonna be so sick tonight,” he said. “But it was worth it.”
Spoken like a true unreformed addict, I thought, discouraged. There wasn’t much I could do about it, though.
Smitty wanted to stop and get a few things. I’d put basic toiletries in with the clothes I brought, but he wanted some reading glasses and some Old Spice shaving cream.
We went to Walmart. It was a one of those superstores.
Just inside the door, Smitty stepped off to one side. He looked at the huge expanse of merchandise, trailing off as far as the eye could see. The overhead lights were bright and people bustled in all directions.
“I feel like this has to be a science fiction movie,” he said. “And I’m an extra in the background.”
We found the things he wanted. “There’s no price tags. How does the cashier know what to ring up?”
I explained about bar codes, and pointed out the prices on the shelves. We found one of those price checker units, and I showed him how to run the bar code under it so the price came up.
“And,” I told him, “there are self-checkout lanes. You’re going to check your own things out.”
Before we left, he wanted to use the rest room. He came out looking distraught. “There aren’t any handles on the sink faucets. I couldn’t wash my hands.”
“Just move your hands around a bit under the faucets. There are sensors there.”
He headed back in. I remembered to call after him, “Same thing with the paper towel dispenser.”
We made it through the self-checkout lane. Smitty was hesitant to use it, but I made him handle the entire transaction.
As we got back in the car and I put the address of his new residence in the GPS, I heard him mutter, “Science fiction movie for sure.”
Link to the first installment:
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=993649290245605005#editor/target=post;postID=5068264193370280547
What a wonderful installment. We get so used to the technology that has occurred in our lifetime that we forget how much difference 20 years can make. Seeing the world through Smitty's eyes is a revelation. I can't wait to find out how he adapted to it all.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Kait. We're so used to texting and ordering movie tickets on our phones that we forget how recent these innovations are.
ReplyDeleteYou are a special individual, Kathleen, helping Smitty. The world is a better place because of people like you.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Grace. It must be so difficult to leave prison and return to the outside world that has changed while you were inside.
ReplyDeleteI ditto what Kait said.
ReplyDeleteWow--I never thought about all the technology changes over the years. So many small things that we adapt to without realizing how we were then. They are in a time worp. Thanks for this blog, KM. A real eye opener.
ReplyDeleteSomeone who's been incarcerated for a long time does enter a world that is unfamiliar in many ways, some technology-related and some not. One guy told me he had trouble getting used to opening doors and going through them, rather than waiting for someone in central control to notice him waiting (via security camera) and opening the door remotely. He'd stand in front of a door until someone came up behind him, went around him and opened the door.
ReplyDeleteI imagine you could have used many more examples of how our lives changed while Smitty was inside, but you included just enough to make it clear. Great details!
ReplyDeleteThanks! I'm trying to give a "feel" for what someone who has just been released is facing.
ReplyDelete