Incarceration

When I was a kid I was obsessed with prison movies. My favorites were Escape from Alcatraz, The Big House, My Six Convicts and eventually The Great Escape and Cool Hand Luke. The kind of horrible things we now know to regularly occur in prisons were not depicted. Just a bunch a guys, perhaps a bit flawed, but with some attractive redeeming assets, cooped up in a stickin' prison with the passion to get out, whatever the cost. Maybe I was drawn to the reverse morality. The criminals were the good guys and the warden was the bad guy.


Identifying in any way with the bad guy was radical in the 1950's and 1960's cinema. For me, the real interest was identifying with their non acceptance of incarceration with the desire to break out. This was no easy task. While generally despicable characters, the warden and staff were no fools, always scrutinizing  my heroes


While other more mature junior high types were occasionally thinking about what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives, I had it down to being a professional athlete and if that didn't work out, I leaned toward incarceration with a mission to escape. The schemes were infinite. Sawing, scrapping, and squeezing through narrow vents as well as the bold run to fence at night after the search lights whizzed by. All looked to be quite fun. For me, tunneling was "the bomb." Luckily we did not have "Prisoner" on Career Day. Likely I would have spent all my time with these good fellows and further embarrassed the family.


I have never been that attracted to specific criminal enterprises and even less so now. The chance of me doing something to precipitate an arrest seems slim. But here I am, essentially incarcerated. I rarely leave the house and pretty much stay in 3 rooms. This qualifies as "house arrest" and it is time to plot an escape.


The Warden, previously known as the wife, cannot be easily fooled. As wardens go, she's not too shabby and even brings me coffee on occasion. Others times, when I become a bit too demanding, she'll leave me in solitary confinement. My cellmates, two cats a dog, are worthless. I have made multiple attempts to engage them in an escape plan, but they just look at me like I am some kind of a nut case. Maybe with their identification collars they feel the escape will be short lived and they will then suffer some of the retribution they oft see delivered in my direction. Other times I think they like it here. Jack, the Maine Coon Cat, may be a stool pigeon; in the movies, every prison had one. He runs to the door like a dog every time the Warden returns from one of her missions. Just out of my earshot, I can see him pouring out the info he has gathered in her absence.


The Warden has not yet put a collar on me, so if I am able to get out, I'm home free and won't be looking back. Hitchhiking should be easy with the walker but the prison pajamas may be a deterrent. Luckily my trusty iPhone has not been confiscated and I can talk to or text  my friends on a regular basis. The warden is old school and technology is not her strong hand. My friends have been bringing by a few beers but I can never seem to find them. I am suspicious the Warden may be consuming the brew, but so far I see no signs of beer belly. Her moods are erratic but she is not too wobbly. Sometimes, when she thinks I am asleep, I hear her on the phone ranting to to her friends what a curse these recent duties have been for her  The other day she left an application on her computer, essentially putting in for a transfer. I was not able to fully understand the application but I was able to get some information before she saw me on her computer. I will further investigate on my hidden iPhone when I'm next placed in solitary. It appears the company she is working through is called "eHarmony." If anyone reading this knows more about this organization, send me a text.


On another topic I have been told some of my recent entries have been too morose. Sorry if I have been bumming everybody out. All is well. The pain is minimal and serves as a convenient reminder not to make the type of move that would jeopardize good bone fusions. I've lately received some nice cards from people with relatives in Purgatory letting me know their deceased family members have been released on an accelerated basis.