He threw a towel over his shoulder and grabbed a white mesh bag full of toiletries. He walked towards the railing and stood in the walkway. He was now standing right in front of me.
All of a sudden, he stretched out his arms with the white mesh bag still in hand and he started singing.
Oh. My. God.
And he was good too!
I saw Moses enter the shower room and disappear as he went around the corner. He began singing again & extra loud too. I think because of the acoustics. It sounded great. I looked around and saw the other inmates pointing at the shower smiling & talking to one another. It looked as though everybody was enjoying it. I’m not exactly sure what he was singing, but it was definitely from the Motown Era.
I climbed down from my rack and walked over to the handrail.
“Don’t let them see you leaning on the handrail,” D warned me. “For some reason they don’t like that.”
I took D’s advice and folded my hands behind my back.
As Moses continued singing, I walked back over to my rack and grabbed a pen & paper. This was when I decided to write things down; take little notes here & there.
Notes to this very story you’re reading now.
The song eventually ended and Moses remained quiet. The other inmates went back to doing to whatever it was they were doing before Moses took their attention away. Some went back to playing cards, the volume on the television went up, headphones went back on, &c.
You get the idea.
When Moses returned, I noticed he didn’t have any socks. He wore his jailhouse slippers (aka “Bob Barkers”) without any socks. He stayed mostly in his rack with his feet tucked in under his blanket. The rule was that you were NOT allowed to bring your blanket up past your waist during waking hours only.
I’m not sure why such a rule exists,
but I’m sure the reason is either violent and/or gross.
I admit, I felt a little sorry for Moses. But honestly, who wouldn’t? Once a week, inmates who could afford to do so received conversary. Simple Items, like peanut butter, crackers, Ramen noodles, underwear & socks. Shampoo, toothpaste, bar soap, &c.
I bought Moses a pair of socks. I’m a softy (at heart).
By doing so, I made a jailhouse crazy friend. Which, I thought, could actually be a good thing to have – if you think about it.
The reason Moses was incarcerated is an interesting story in itself.
Obviously, Moses is crazy. In fact, it was his craziness that landed him in the Porter County Jail in the first place. It seems Moses was under the impression that he had some money coming to him…a lot of money. However, he couldn’t touch of any of it because it was “tied up” in the court system.
Well, Moses thought he had waited long enough and so he paid the people who (he thought) were responsible for the delay a visit. Not having a drivers license, he walked to the Porter County Municipal Building. Once inside, he insisted on speaking to a judge about obtaining his money. Now, I don’t know if there was a particular judge he was looking for but when they told him that they didn’t know what he was talking about they asked him to leave – repeatedly.
Moses wasn’t going anywhere…
…but to jail.
He needed $200 to get bailed out.
Moses didn’t have any money.
I was assuming that his family thought that jail was the best place for him – for the moment. I say, “for the moment” because it was obvious to me that Moses hasn’t seen the last of a secured institution. Whether it be jail or an asylum, Moses wasn’t too far away.
Moses had been incarcerated for about eight months by the time I got there. Eight months. His family couldn’t (or wouldn’t) come up with $200 for his release. It was the courts that finally decided to release him. They figure eight months was long enough for acting an ass in the Porter County Municipal Building.
Time passes as time does.
It passes extremely slow when you’re sitting in jail though.
Just when I started to get to know Moses it was time for him to be released. He gathered his few personal items that the Porter County Jail provided for him, crumbled up his blanket, folded his mattress and dragged everything behind him. The inmates would wish him well as he slowly walked by. When he reached the stairs going down he looked at me.
“Thanks for the socks,” he acknowledged loudly.
“No problem,” I answered back.
He continued on down the stairs letting the mattress flop down on each step.
“I’m leaving this motherfucker,” he exclaimed. “Fuck this place!”
I think Moses will back.
If not here – somewhere else then.
[to be continued]
I’m starting to go crazy(ier).