Week Four, Episode 7....

The lost earrings

     I watch the #Steve Harvey,_  Show everyday at 3:00pm.  In prison you need a

good laugh and it doesn't hurt that not only is he always dressed well, but he is

also my homie, from Cleveland Ohio, and a high school classmate of my children's

father.  There is no one here from Cleveland or Ohio.  All the women here are

from the New Zealand area, New York or New Jersey. 

       Steven Harvey quoted #Joel Olsten,_ , stating that 25% of the people around

you will hate you for no reason- they don't even know why; 25% of others can

learn to like you; 25% are neutral and don't care about you either way; and 25%

will love you.  At the Camp that rings true.  It is people that constantly plot

and wait on my demise for no reason.  Their hate is genuine.  Because I have

built successful businesses a few times and lost them by self-defeating behaviors

at home, I have experienced constant haters.  The more successful you become,

the number of haters increase ten-fold.  Prison is no different than the streets.

  When serving time, everyone should have a relative that they can count on

that is available anytime to answer the phone and take care of business.  What

type of business does an inmate have?  It could be taxes, or banking from the

previous life, or child support orders, unpaid traffic tickets, and even creditors

are just a few of the nuisances that do not cease just because you are in prison.

Even when you die, certain people never stop being worrisome. 

    I have had a few people in my lifetime be there for me, and I will call them

angels, because that is what they are.  My daughter Cleo, aka Tee, because

her middle name is Tawana and since a baby we call her Tee- has been my angel

since I first began doing this.  I am not proud to say that I have been serving

prison sentences more months than I care to reveal.  Tee is always there for

me and loves me unconditionally.   My other angel was my paternal aunt, named

Naomi.  She was my father's oldest sister.  We also shared the same birthday.

Naomi retired years ago from the federal system as a secretary for Judge.

He later passed, but she always kept his memory alive. 

both of these ladies love me unconditionally, and is definitely in the 25% of the

world that genuinely loves and supports my efforts. 

     Naomi was always by the telephone.  Her life consisted of church events,

calling the sick and shut in, and hosting prayer circles from people all over the

country.  She called herself a Psalmist.  What I loved about Auntie Naomi

is she was always ready for whatever, and loved me unconditionally. 

     I had a serious problem with one of my bunkies while living in Arn-2.

I tried to work it out before calling Auntie Naomi, because once she became

involved, it was no dropping it.  She followed things through each time.

     I had mentioned in a previous episode that I was moved in with a lady

named May.  She was not from Cleveland, and I don't remember where she was

from, but it wasn't Columbus either. 

     My first few nights living with her was normal.  She was not a talker, but neither

was I.  I preferred it that way.  My cell was my sanctuary.   I enjoy being by myself,

and when in my room I am usually able to put up a make shift curtain and do me.

Because prison rooms have bunk beds like we are still four years old instead of

grown women, I was able to tuck a sheet under the top bunk mattress, and let it

hang down as a curtain over part of my bed.  The rule was guards must be able to

see at least half of your body at all times.  If a guard walked by, they would see

the bottom half of my body.  Behind my curtain I would journal, read, write or

edit chapters, or simply stare at the wall.  If depended on what kind of mood I

was in at the time.

     This particular day, I was behind my curtain.

     "Bunkie, have you seen my earrings?"  May asked.

     "No, where did you have them?"  I asked nonchalantly.

I did not appreciate anyone asking me anything when I was behind my curtain.

In my imaginary world, I was in my bedroom with my door shut and locked.  Because

in prison you do not have your own room, I did not appreciate anyone invading my

personal space or time with myself.

    "I had them sitting on the table, next to the TV that we both use."  May said with

an attitude.

     WHY THE HELL WAS SHE TELLING ME ABOUT HER EARRINGS, AND WHO CARED?

I thought.  It was annoying.

     She would not let me rest.  Finally, I stood up so that I could look at her sitting

on top of her bunk.

     "Bunkie, I haven't seen any earrings.  I have my own as you can see, and a back

up pair.  I hope you find them."  I said, as I left the small room.  She had really

gotten on my nerves.

    When I sat outside my door at the table in the rec room, Essie came and sat

next to me. 

    "What's wrong Auntie?"  She asked.

    "May is tripping about her earrings.  She is really getting on my nerves."  I said.

    "Be careful with her Auntie.  She is here for cutting someone's throat with the

metal lid from a can while they were sleeping.  She is something else."  Essie said.

    WHAT IN THE WORLD?  I thought. 

    Surely, Mrs. Turley knew this too. 

    When I walked back in my room at count time, Ms. May was sitting on her bunk,

holding the lid off of the kool-aid container.  WHAT THE HELL? 

   "Oh, heck no! What are you doing May?"  I said loudly. 

   I was not about to play NO games with this woman.  Also, I had to go to sleep in the

room with this woman. 

   "I want my earrings, and I know you took them."  She said, looking crazy as ever

by the eyes. 

   "Listen, I didn't take your earrings.  You are welcome to have a pair of mines. 

Earrings are nothing, and I don't want the tension in this room." I proffered.

   "I knew you took them! What other reason would you offer me a pair!  I want my

earrings.! She screamed. 

   I do not believe in calling officers to fight my battles.  This was one time I thought

about it, and quickly dismissed that idea.  I refused to go to sleep, and so did she.

We were locked in the room together.  I periodically got up to pretend to go to the

toilet just to see exactly what she was doing on that top bunk.  She wasn't sleep

either.  It appeared as if she was waiting for me to go to sleep, and she had this

stupid smirk on her face. 

    We both stayed up all night.  The moment that the officer popped open the doors

from their control desk, I walked briskly toward the phone.  I couldn't dial Auntie

Naomi's number fast enough.

   "Auntie Nay, they have me in the room with this psychopath.  It is bad enough they

have me in a max unit."  I said.

   I explained to Auntie Nay about her crime, and exactly how she was acting about

a pair of earrings. 

   "Oh no.  We have to get you out of there.  Go and talk to the unit, and then call me

right back."  Naomi said.

   I did exactly that.  The unit told me that they would not be doing any bed or room

changes, and that I was stuck.

   I politely called Auntie Naomi back. 

   "Don't worry.  I have already contacted news channel 10 in your area.  They are

calling the warden as we speak.  After you hung up, my spirit told me to get busy.

You can't stay in there with that woman."  She said sternly.

    "Thank you Auntie Nay."  I said tensely.

    "You call me back before bedtime, and I am going to make some other calls."

Naomi said before hanging up.

   She did.  She called the Warden of the prison, Channel 10 news station again,

the Director of the Bureau of Prisons, and the local police department of the city

with a formal complaint, to put it on record in case anything happened to me.

She was thorough. 

   Within the hour, I was being summoned to the unit. 

   "Who do you think you are?  Your aunt is calling everybody.  We are going to move

you immediately, but you don't run nothing here."  The unit staff said. 

   They were angry, and so was I.

   "This is your new bed assignment.  Your Aunt has also called the TV station.

Call her right now and tell her to call the dogs off."  They ordered.

   I did.

   "Auntie Nay, I am about to move right now, and then I will call you back."  I said.

   When I walked in the room, May jumped down off the bed.

   "I found my earrings!  I had stuck them inside my pillow case and did not remember."

She said. 

   I said nothing, and began to pack my stuff to move to the other side of the building

near the laundry room.

   "What are you doing?  Are you moving?" She said.

   I did not answer her.  I kept on packing up my stuff.

   "I am going to see the unit.  It was just a misunderstanding.  I like you as my room-

mate, and I don't want to loose you."  Her crazy butt said, as she ran out of the room to

try to stop me from moving.

   Let me tell you something.  The Lord himself could not talk me into staying in the

room with that crazy girl.  It was too much.  By the time she came back, I was packed

up and gone, thanks to Essie and her helpers.

     May had the nerve to try to speak to me later on.  I kept it polite and stayed as

far away from her as I could.  I thought about what could have happened to me if she

had not found her misplaced earrings?  Prisons all over the country have people with

mental health issues.  When they began to cut mental health budgets throughout the

United States, where do you think a lot of the patients went?  They were sent to

state and federal prisons all over the United States.  The problem is you can not always

tell who has genuine mental health issues until you have a conversation with the

person.  I have spoken with many, and it is not funny at all.  It is dangerous, because

they are mentally unbalanced.  Of course this is not an isolated prison thing.  Citizens

on the streets are mixed in with society with severe mental health problems.  Every

time we see the news where someone has gone postal, we understand this. 

    I did not come to prison to make friends.  You are lucky if you are able to meet

one person that you can talk to in order to make your time easier.  Regardless to how

this looks, this is not a college campus, and serving time in prison is hard. 

#Rhonda Turpin,_

author, publisher, prisoner

April 21, 2014-Easter(so what)

fb/rhondaturpin

worldbookspublishing@gmail.com