A Prison Visit

A note from Brooke (the proud friend that types this awesome blog)

As many of you know, I recently traveled to Florida with The MOM and Abby (one of J.J.'s fabulous sisters).  I haven't seen my friend Michael in 20 years!  I was excited to see the dude that I last saw many years ago as a young boy, my friend at church.  

We arrived more than two hours prior to 8:15 a.m., which is the first most important time of the morning.  First, upon arrival, you are sure to get your name on "the list".  The list of names serves a very important role.  The list of names secures your spot.  The list of names gets you into the visiting park before the others who trickle in behind you.  The list of names protects your visiting time.   When you want to maximize the most of the allowed visiting hours, you do not allow somebody else wiggle their way into the line.  [And, the regulars are SURE to let those that try to cut in line know their place!]

So, we were sure to get our names on the list.  Then, you wait.  Around 7:45 a.m. others began to emerge from their cars.  Visitor's [ourselves included] began to move towards a small pavilion where that small but mighty piece of paper with the list of names sits under a rock.  People are full of smiles, laughter and stories.  Everybody was friendly.  Everybody was happy.  Why wouldn't they be?  They too are eagerly awaiting to see somebody who they care about.

As I sat, with my clear Ziploc bag that contained my license and limited amount of allowed money for food, I quickly gathered who were regulars.  First, the regulars were sure to welcome each other.  They asked about each others life since the last time they gathered in the small pavilion.  Next, the regulars were the ones that could spot new visitors and pointed out "the list".  And, most of the regulars had invested in clear cosmetic bags to tote their approved visiting goods.      

At 8:15 a.m. the guards yell "FIRST FIVE!"  The first five names listed head up to the guard station as the others begin to strictly line up in the appropriate order as "the list"dictates.  When approaching the guard station, you must provide your driver's license, and finger prints.  When approved, they clear you to enter the guard station for a few more steps.  We laid out our Ziplock bags, took off our jewelry and shoes and walked through the metal detector.  One more stage is cleared. 

Next, you enter a small room where another officer pats you down, checks your shoes, makes you shake out your hair and such.  Once you have the final approval, you are allowed to enter the visiting park.

When I hear the word "park", I think of color, trees, flowers and a nice path to enjoy a casual afternoon walk.  I know, I know.  We are at a prison visiting park.  I have no idea what I thought I would see, but I remember just standing there for a moment.  Dull, grey, cement block walls closed in the small room that hosted 20 worn-down banquet tables.  Cracked plastic chairs, each leg wrapped heavily in duct tape to prevent non-traditional weapons.    

An officer station greeted your entrance.  Several officers perched there in efforts to be able to carefully watch the activity occurring throughout the day's visit.  Next to the officer's station, was a solid door that read INMATE RESTROOM.  Across the room you could find the restroom's for guests.

We weaved through the worn-down tables and found a place to sit.  You could find a few games, crayons and coloring books on a small shelf in the corner.  A very small window where you could order your microwavable food, operated by a fellow inmate.  Two stands with microwaves for the over-priced microwavable food.  And a photography station, also operated by a fellow inmate.  A large pavilion outside was fenced in with high barb-wire, electric fencing, but created a visiting area in the fresh air.  And a path was worn out in the grass from guests walking with their loved one in circles, creating a place for a nice afternoon stroll together. 

No paintings.  No color.  No trees.  No welcome sign.  

More than one hour later a line of several inmates entered the visiting park.  J.J. rolling in with them.  Several other groups of men dressed in blue continued to enter.  Before the men are allowed to greet their guests, they must check in with the officer.  As soon as they turn around and walk toward their guest, a smile covers their face.  Likewise, your face is lit up with a smile.

The four of us quickly got to our visit.  Telling stories. Sharing memories. Talking about the future.  We drilled J.J. with endless questions spurred by our curiosity of his life behind bars.  J.J. left that place behind and told jokes that made us laugh so hard we had tears.  His excitement to hang with us poured out of him.      

The room quickly became full.  Full of men dressed in blue. Full of guests dressed in every day clothes (but clothes that are approved!  No white pants, no dresses shorter than your kneecaps, no sleeveless shirts.)  And because the room was filled with these people, it was also filled with joy, busting the small room with chatter and laughter.


In the end, it didn't matter that there was no color to the walls and that we sat in busted up, cracked plastic chairs at worn-down tables.  It didn't matter that we ate microwaved food.  It didn't matter that there was no welcome sign.  That room was colored by smiles, happiness and love.

I didn't notice the same things about the park again.  All I could see was a room filled with happy people.  I will always remember this.  I will always remember what I walked away from.  And I hope that you can remember this too: a joyful, loving heart can color the world around you.