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Viewpoint A letter to my grandson, Felix
Dear Felix,
I am writing to wish you a happy birthday, and the same to Tyler
and Mommy and Daddy, too.
I am being corrected here because the government says that I have
been a bad boy. I have to stay in timeout, but it isnt just for 10
minutes. It is for six months, from last May until Nov. 22, because a judge
felt that I was a very bad boy for walking down a street that I wasnt
supposed to be walking on at Fort Benning, Ga. I was trying to go with 3,400
other people to the School of the Americas to talk to the teachers and students
about nonviolence. It was sort of like when I went to Tylers school with
my Peace House six years ago, when he was in kindergarten, and talked with his
classmates about peacemaking and compassion for animals.
I have a nice little cubicle room here in a dormitory with 120
other men. My cellmate is a Mexican man who is in timeout for five years
because he crossed the Rio Grande River, after he had already been told not to
do that ever again. The people who run this place are very serious about not
doing what you have been told not to do.
I sleep on the top bunk. I have to climb down and then up again
whenever I have to go to the bathroom at night. We have to go to bed at 10
oclock. The lights go out then. The lights go on at 6 a.m., and we go to
the main dining room for breakfast. Everything is very regular here. If we fool
around and dont do things when we are supposed to, we will miss our meals
altogether. If we dont go where we are supposed to go, like work, or
school, or appointments, we could be sent to a special time-out room, where we
would be locked in all day and night for 30 days.
If I do not get papers to prove that I have been to college and
graduated, I will have to go to high school classes and pass tests to show I
know enough to get a high school diploma. I dont have one because I was
too smart and went to college after two years of high school without getting a
diploma; but the teachers here dont believe anything you say, unless you
prove it with official papers.
All the walls are painted white here; all the furniture is tan or
beige. I have a tan steel locker to keep all my letters, books and clothes in.
Everything has to be put away, except when you are actually using it. All of
the clothes are either white or tan, too. We have white underwear, socks and
towels. Each one of us has four tan khaki shirts, four pairs of pants, one tan
windbreaker jacket, and a pair of black boots. All the toads are tan, too;
there are hundreds, or maybe even thousands of them, that hop around in the
grass of the recreation yard, where we can go every evening, or in the daytime
when we are not working. The clay dirt is tan, too. There is a half-mile
walking track of packed dirt around the softball and football fields; I walk
around it for three miles every night and watch the toads hopping around the
shallow ditches that drain the recreation fields, and the killdeers and
mockingbirds in the fields beyond the fences.
There are 1,800 men in timeout here, and probably more toads, but
the toads can hop through the fence.
There are lots of recreational opportunities: In addition to
football and softball fields, there are four outdoor basketball courts, four
handball courts, two volleyball nets, two horseshoe beds and two bocce ball
courts. Inside there are music rooms, pool tables and body building equipment.
We are never at a loss for games to play.
The men are all very nice and friendly; we get along very
peacefully together. It is hard to believe they have all done such bad things
like me: A lot of us are here for what is called illegal reentry,
which means coming or going to places that we were told not to go. Now, of
course, we are not supposed to leave this timeout area until we are allowed to.
They have two 10-foot chainlink fences around the whole place, with lots of
coils of razor wire on top of them and between them, to make sure that we
wouldnt leave without cutting ourselves to shreds. If we would try to
leave timeout before we are allowed to, we might be made to come back and stay
for another five years, so now almost all of us are pretty good about staying
where we are told. After they let me out on Nov. 22, if I try to come back in
without permission, or send anything in to my friends here without permission,
I might have to come in again and stay for another five years.
I know all this is confusing and doesnt make sense; but it
doesnt need to make sense, because it teaches us all to do what we are
told to do, even if it doesnt make any sense to us at all, and, as you
know, that is very important to learn.
One day I counted. There are 27 fully salaried medically
benefited, pension-vested federal employees standing in the dining room
watching us eat lunch, to make sure that we were eating it right. That is fine
for them, and easy work, but I kept wondering: Isnt there a classroom
somewhere in an impoverished neighborhood where a poorly paid young teacher is
struggling to teach 27 children to read and write, without any help at all?
Isnt there a nursing home somewhere where one nursing aid is being paid
minimum wage to care for 27 feeble old people and keep them clean and fed,
without any help at all?
I read a book here about a man named Nelson Mandela. He had to
stay in timeout for 28 years, which is almost as long as your Uncle Eric has
been alive, because he didnt stay where he was told. After all that time
they let him out and let him become president of his country, because they
found out that he had been right about things all along.
Maybe sometime the people who run this place will believe your
Grandpa, too, when he says that nobody should kill anybody, anytime, anywhere,
ever and that people who have a whole lot of belongings should share them with
other people who have little or nothing.
In the meantime, I have no complaints. Everything is very clean
and neat and well-run here; I have lots of friends to talk with, as I am sure
you do, too.
With love, Grandpa Karl
Karl Meyer is serving a six-month sentence at the Federal
Correction Institution in Forrest City, Ark., for trespassing at a protest at
the School of the Americas, Ft. Benning, Ga. He has been an activist with the
Catholic Worker movement for 44 years.
National Catholic Reporter, November 2,
2001
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