PREFACE
Communicating and memorializing my experience of prison became the sole focus for creating a blog.
I chose the website intentionally as a reputation builder rather than some egotistical focus on me.
A simple Google search of my name results in some negative press releases from the Department of Justice and the Archdiocese of Washington, along with way too many news articles.
Thus, having this blog will hopefully inform some of the negative and voice as true of an experience that I have been having.
Please know that I am being as honest as possible and am not creating some rosy details to help alleviate concerned family and friends.
These experiences over the past week and half are as real as I could make them in the limited 15 minute increments permitted on the email system.
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After a wonderful Thanksgiving (despite being surrounded by felons and away from family and friends), I slept in this morning, and it seems like the entire dorm took the morning to sleep in. I was half awake around 8:30 am when a I heard the loud announcement blared: “Gaughan from Alex Unit (name of my dorm), report to the mail room.” My initial thought is that I was expecting a letter from my sister, who told me that she sent the letter in Monday’s mail and wanted to see how long it would take for me to receive it. I guess the answer is 3 days, excluding Thanksgiving, which is certainly much more efficient than I had anticipated.
I wrestled the many four layers of thin bedding off me, literally sprung from my bunk, and plopped to the linoleum-checkered cold floor. I hastily dressed in uniform and left the dormitory for a very grey, warm, and wet greeting. Admittedly, I have no idea where I am going on the campus, since I had not even seen a sign for a mailroom (and most guys are still sleeping or nowhere to be seen). Being blessed with near perfect vision, I scanned each building as I briskly walked through the campus and saw a small blue and white label, which I suspected might be a mail drop. As I shifted my direction and headed toward the door with the sign that became much clearer that this was the mailroom. As I reached for the door, letters on the glass door indicated, “Authorized staff only.” I guess the momentum of just responding to the summons gave me the confidence to enter and plead ignorance if I was stopped. A few mail slots were mounted on the wall, like a traditional small post office, along with a counter.
An officer greeted me (the same elf that handed out the basic supplies at the store), and she whimsically inquired, “who are you?” I announced, “Ken Gaughan, Ma’am.” She smiled and announced, “Oh, you’re a new one.” Another officer in the mail room, quite pleasant and stout, came over to the window and smiled. He said, “How are you doing?” I bantered, “I’m great, Sir. Thank you for asking.” “Did you have a good Thanksgiving yesterday,” I retorted. With the same welcoming smile, he comically said, “It was alright.” Aside: most of the employees and officers are local to Morgantown, and they have a bit of a sarcastic, grounding, and hospitable tone with a mumbly twang.
Then, the female officer delightfully smiled and said, “You have a piece of mail.” “Who are these people,” as she pointed at a return address sticker of Tiffany and Chris Scherer. I confusingly said, “My sister and brother-in-law?!” In a very friendly and helpful tone she then asked, “Do you have a blog?” “Yes, Ma’am,” I confidentially acknowledged. Another aside: Prior to coming to Morgantown, I carefully researched freedom of speech rights of incarcerated people. Yes, you may publish without accepting monetary gain, and blogs are considered a legal form of publication. The female officer continued, “Do you post the blog?” “Absolutely not, Ma’am,” again confidentially responding. Still with a smile and welcoming tone, “Does someone else post the blog for you…?” Wryly I replied, “Yes, Ma’am.” She politely said, “Oh, good. Last thing you want is someone accusing you of having a cellphone and posting the blog yourself. By the way, we check and read all your mail, so just be sure to tell your family not to use stickers of any sort, use colored paper or envelopes.” “I will, Ma’am. Thank you for letting me know. Have a great day,” I stuttered in relief.
The good news is that I receive mail within a timely manner; the not-so-good news, the officers do read through everything and are quite particular about what is sent. Here is a brief overview of the “don’ts” when sending snail mail:
-Don't use self-address stickers or stickers of any kind: all information must be written on the front of the envelope.
-Don't use color envelopes: only use white envelopes.
-Don't send anything on stationary paper: white paper is only accepted.I am permitted to receive pictures, but they must be printed on photopaper. For example, my dad and nieces love making art, but I would only be permitted to receive a photo-printed picture of the art and not say a page from a coloring book or some sketch on a sheet of white paper. Oddly, I am able to mail anything out without it being read, as long as the person is on an approved list that the mail room officers review.
They print specific labels which goes against their own sticker rule 😛
Unless the meal is worthwhile to describe, I will just leave the breakfast, lunch and dinner out of this blog for now, to help me better manage the paid minutes on creating a post. Since today is Friday, we had some leftovers from yesterday, but lunch was the “Sponge Bob” breaded fish. I overheard another guy comment that the filet of fish look like Sponge Bob and it really does. Dinner was supposed to be lasagna but ended up being beef stroganoff which was quite good, despite many comments saying it is the worst dish here.
To end today, there is quite the buzz and movement around the application of the First Step Act. I am waiting to fully write on these details until I can truly confirm them to be true rather than hearsay. The way the law reads and how it is enacted is what effects how much time someone actually completes an incarceration for a nonviolent crime. TGIF!