Pulling off of Route 6 onto the small industrial 'Six and One Half Station' road, the nervousness and anxiety was getting the better of me. The hour's drive had me attentive to highways and exits I had never driven on before; but now I knew, I was one turn away. I was filled with the realization that I was soon to be walking in secure halls and in a place I had never envisioned myself, inside a prison.
I had an idea of what to expect. I spent the a night searching for Matt on NY State inmate search sites. After finding where he was, I then went to the Orange County Correctional Facility website, reading and rereading the Rules of Visitation. I knew not to wear clothing with many pockets, for each on would be searched. I knew not to wear a belt, a hat, jewlery or clothing with metal buckles. I decided to only bring in my driving license, a quarter for the personal posessions lockers, my keys, and a copy of 'Lullaby' by Chuck Palahniuk as a gift for Matthew. I would have to give the book to Sheriff personell. I wrote a small note inside the book cover to Matt, telling him a little on how I felt and to give good wishes.
I told him how nervous I was. After not talking to him for almost six years, I was left with the mystery of why that was. I never knew if it was on purpose or by circumstance. How would Matthew react to seeing me sitting there in the visitor's seat? Would I even see him at all? I don't know how the process works; if he is told who is here to visit him, if he has a choice of denying a visit. These mysteries all worried me, but this was someone I considered a brother, regardless of how long it had been that we were active in each others' lives.
The parking lot was a winding mess of one-way lanes and marked parking spots. Every visitor's spot was full, and there was very little foot traffic of people's going back to their cars. While three other cars drove in circles waiting for an open spot, I saw one pull over and ask an Officer a question and then start driving on the way out of the parking lot. As she passed, I rolled down my window and asked her what she learned, assuming she had asked where else we can park. She acknowledged that was what she had asked and led me to a seperate lot, with many empty spots and partially filled with air conditioner compressors, tractor trailers and officers' personal cars.
I parked and tried to collect myself. Double checking to make sure I ONLY had the few things I needed and nothing more. I got out of the car and locked the door. I turned to face the large cold building. In front of me was a few large bay doors. To the right was the beginning of double fencing that circled around what was obviously the inmate area. The fences were both very tall, unending circles of razor wire were extra barriers added to the top and bottom of the see through wall. Behind the fencing was two stories of concrete with evenly spaced windows that looked more like archer slots than windows meant for light. Large plots of grass gave space between the each of the two fences and the quiet prison. The unfenced area I was closest to was most likely the office and infrastructural areas of the prison; the kitchens and laundry, garages and storage areas.
I walked my way around the lot towards the front entrance of the building. The heat and humidity of the day would have bothered me, if I wasn't burning inside with anticipation and nervousness. I was finally going to see my brother again. This could very well be the last time I see him, or the beginning of a new reconnection. I crossed a field of grass to go around to the front door. As I walked passed a row of parked patrol cars a dog barked viciously at me through a small cracked window. Even with the car running and the assumed A/C blowing inside, I couldn't believe it was OK for the officer to leave the dog in the car in this heat. I made my way passed a few people smoking outside the door and into the cold gray building.
Opening the door there was a mass of officers walking all around with a few behind a counter talking to civilians. To the right was a windowed counter for civil business. To the left was rows of hard plastic chairs, a couple vending machines and an alcove of small lockers. There was a wall of glass bricks and what looked like a metal detector behind it. Immediately beside me was a winding line of felt ropes leading to the counter with a few visitors already in line. I took a breath and got in line, watching how the process flowed, to try and keep things as efficient and comfortable as possible.
When it was my turn to walk up to the counter, I looked at the sign in sheet and entered Matthew's name and then my own where each belonged. I thought of the many scenes in movies where a visitor looked at the rest of the sign in names to track who their loved one's other visitors were. I admit the curiosity came over me, but the situation would never allow me to take that much time. I gave my drivers license and got a visitor pass in exchange. I walked over to the small corner of lockers. Many were already taken and the balance were broken. I eventually found one that worked, placed my keys inside and closed the door. I had to placed a quarter in and turn the key to lock the door. I went to the bathroom and put cold water on my face. Staring at my reflection, I imagined what my expression might be like when I first see him. I felt my heart racing and took a few deep breaths. I washed my hands and used the industrial brown paper towel as a glove to open the door. I walked to back of the line of people by the glass bricked wall. It was almost time.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
26 July 2013
25 September 2010
What the Book Industry should learn from the Music Industry
I do not own a Kindle, Nook or any other e-reader. I am a person who loves to own the material books. Maybe I believe it'll make me look smarter, I don't know.
I can easily compare this to my feelings on music. I love music even more than books, and own alot more records than I do books. OK, I admit it, I am a music geek as well as a record snob. I, like most record geeks, prefer to own my music on vinyl. I can easily see a parallel between the Record Geek part of me and the Printed Book Geek part of me.
Then my ex bought me an iPod. She told me driving around with a 300 CD book of CDs was clutter compared to having one little device to listen to 10,000 songs on. The traditionalist is me fought it, but after she started ripping some of my CDs to my library, I quickly realized how convenient it all was. This could have easily started to cost me a fortune. I could have went out and bought a USB record player. I could have started to pirate MP3 versions of the records I owned. But then a little record company from Omaha,NE did something that quickly started being done by alot of the smaller indie lables that still produce vinyl regularly. When you bought a vinyl record, it came with a download code that also gave you the rights to MP3 (or ACC etc) versions of the tracks on the vinyl. Now I could easliy keep my vinyl at home, but still have high quality, frustrationless versions of the records I own.
As it stands, I do not desire a e-reader. As I said, I prefer the feel of a book in my hand, much like I prefer the sound of a vinyl record. But, if I could get digital versions of my favorite books, just by buying printed versions of books. I might consider having a digital portable version of my book library, like I do my music library.
I can easily compare this to my feelings on music. I love music even more than books, and own alot more records than I do books. OK, I admit it, I am a music geek as well as a record snob. I, like most record geeks, prefer to own my music on vinyl. I can easily see a parallel between the Record Geek part of me and the Printed Book Geek part of me.
Then my ex bought me an iPod. She told me driving around with a 300 CD book of CDs was clutter compared to having one little device to listen to 10,000 songs on. The traditionalist is me fought it, but after she started ripping some of my CDs to my library, I quickly realized how convenient it all was. This could have easily started to cost me a fortune. I could have went out and bought a USB record player. I could have started to pirate MP3 versions of the records I owned. But then a little record company from Omaha,NE did something that quickly started being done by alot of the smaller indie lables that still produce vinyl regularly. When you bought a vinyl record, it came with a download code that also gave you the rights to MP3 (or ACC etc) versions of the tracks on the vinyl. Now I could easliy keep my vinyl at home, but still have high quality, frustrationless versions of the records I own.
As it stands, I do not desire a e-reader. As I said, I prefer the feel of a book in my hand, much like I prefer the sound of a vinyl record. But, if I could get digital versions of my favorite books, just by buying printed versions of books. I might consider having a digital portable version of my book library, like I do my music library.
20 July 2010
Lost & Found Pt. 2
It would be another hundred paragraphs if I explained just how much my life was hectic and full of changes from Matthew’s wedding until now. Going from employed and doing well, to unemployed with no car and no place to stay; on to eventually achieving my dream of being a firefighter and slowly getting my life in order. It's safe to say the changes were frequent and rapid. I am not the person I was two years ago, and the person I was six years ago is something like that of legend now. I never forget about Matthew. I would go through various jags of calling all of our mutual friends and ask if they knew about him (we did not have many mutual friends). I would find recording of his bands and download them to hear his voice. I would go to places I knew him to frequent. I spent at many nights searching through countless person search websites. Weeding through the Google results was tedious. There are other people with his name, with plenty of sites talking about their professional work. He was always someone to be under the radar. He never created any significant online identity, never having a website, social networking profile or email. Even his part in bands would get minor mention on the internet, unless it was the band in general. Matt is still nowhere to be found.
New Years Day 2010, Phil posted an update on a social networking site about Matt sending people weird text messages. This shocked me; I did not even know they knew each other well enough to still be in touch. I sent a message asking Phil to forward my number to Matt. To tell him, I have been looking for him for half a decade. Knowing he was alive and in contact with people reinvigorated my hopes to reconnect with him. At this point, the fact that Matthew and I have not had contact started to raise many questions in me. I have lost many friends through time, due to many reasons; some of them to distance, and lack of contact, personality conflict and arguments. I wondered why it was that we had not been in contact. Was it intentional? Did I do something to offend him? I was broke at the time of the wedding and couldn’t afford a gift, maybe he was offended that I showed up empty handed? With all of these possibilities, I felt awkward to bother Phil asking if he heard from Matt about my number. I was left thinking I would only bother Phil if a significant time went by without any progress.
In searches, I eventually found an address in Port Jervis, NY that had Matt as the tenant. This was about an hour and half drive away. I never found a phone number. So no call could be made. I sat with this address in my mind for a few days, working up the initiative to take the drive and face that mystery solving moment. I drove up there one night on a whim. On the way, I realized it was getting late, and with a child in the house; it would be too late to ring the doorbell. I decided, I already initiated the drive and would go anyway, at least to see if there was any sign that this was his home.
I eventually pulled up to the house. It was a quiet rural area, but on one of the main Routes. The sun was already down and there was not a light on in the house. I double-checked the address and it all matched. I pulled into the empty driveway. I got out and looked into the garage, no cars there either. I walked up to the front door. A playhouse and bikes littered the yard; I thought of their children and hoped this was a good sign. On the porch, the screen door had been duct taped, signs of the screen’s fasteners failing. I looked into the living room window and listened for noise. The house was dark and silent and I was disappointed. I started wondering what excuses there could be for the house being empty. Was this not their house? Was it ever? I know Jackie was a nurse; maybe she was working a night shift and the kids were at the grandparent’s house. I knew all the guessing in the world would solve nothing so I walked back to the car and started to drive away. I was deflated; I felt such anticipation to finally reconnect with them. When the house was silent and empty, I left feeling the same. As I drove away, I hated the feeling that this was a futile trip. All of the mysteries about the house left me wanting more, I turned the car around and went back into the driveway. I found a piece of paper and wrote and then rewrote a note to “Matt &/or Jackie?”. I gave a message and my phone number and asked that if the tenants of the house was neither Matt nor Jackie that they contact me and make me aware that I need to continue my search. I expected nothing, but left the note attached to the duct tape on the front door.
Nothing happened for quite some time after I left the note. No calls, no new addresses found. Maybe my guess was true. Maybe it was Matt’s intention to avoid contact? Maybe the stresses of fatherhood and married life just lead him to decide less people in it would make things easier; and I was one the ones who had to go? I thought of that house often, of how the driveway and garage were empty. I pondered the many reasons any house would be that quiet and felt a need to get myself back up to it during daytime hours and see if anything was different. I had a busy schedule of classes and work for the next couple of weeks. Another road trip would have to wait.
Two months after the trip up to the house, I received short notice from a friend that he had an extra ticket to a show in Brooklyn. It was a band I had not seen in years and was very excited to go. We went into the city early enough to stop at a local bar and meet up with a few friends. I also managed to find a few friends I knew from high school. Eventually, the large crowd we gathered walked to the concert and went on to enjoy the beers, laughs and music. My friend had gotten lost in the crowd; After the last band finished, I went looking for him and I bumped into the bassist of my second band with Matthew. I was surprised to see him after so long and we caught up a bit on life. His current band was recording a new record and he was doing well. I eventually asked him about Matthew. When I brought him up, Sean said ‘Oh, I guess you haven’t heard?’ My heart sunk as I saw the look on his face, he was about to share bad news he had come to peace with but knew I would need a second to handle.
‘I haven’t heard anything about him in ages and have been searching for him.’
‘Well, Bryan; Matthew is in prison.’
Burned Wood and Lost Wishes: Lost & Found Pt. 3
New Years Day 2010, Phil posted an update on a social networking site about Matt sending people weird text messages. This shocked me; I did not even know they knew each other well enough to still be in touch. I sent a message asking Phil to forward my number to Matt. To tell him, I have been looking for him for half a decade. Knowing he was alive and in contact with people reinvigorated my hopes to reconnect with him. At this point, the fact that Matthew and I have not had contact started to raise many questions in me. I have lost many friends through time, due to many reasons; some of them to distance, and lack of contact, personality conflict and arguments. I wondered why it was that we had not been in contact. Was it intentional? Did I do something to offend him? I was broke at the time of the wedding and couldn’t afford a gift, maybe he was offended that I showed up empty handed? With all of these possibilities, I felt awkward to bother Phil asking if he heard from Matt about my number. I was left thinking I would only bother Phil if a significant time went by without any progress.
In searches, I eventually found an address in Port Jervis, NY that had Matt as the tenant. This was about an hour and half drive away. I never found a phone number. So no call could be made. I sat with this address in my mind for a few days, working up the initiative to take the drive and face that mystery solving moment. I drove up there one night on a whim. On the way, I realized it was getting late, and with a child in the house; it would be too late to ring the doorbell. I decided, I already initiated the drive and would go anyway, at least to see if there was any sign that this was his home.
I eventually pulled up to the house. It was a quiet rural area, but on one of the main Routes. The sun was already down and there was not a light on in the house. I double-checked the address and it all matched. I pulled into the empty driveway. I got out and looked into the garage, no cars there either. I walked up to the front door. A playhouse and bikes littered the yard; I thought of their children and hoped this was a good sign. On the porch, the screen door had been duct taped, signs of the screen’s fasteners failing. I looked into the living room window and listened for noise. The house was dark and silent and I was disappointed. I started wondering what excuses there could be for the house being empty. Was this not their house? Was it ever? I know Jackie was a nurse; maybe she was working a night shift and the kids were at the grandparent’s house. I knew all the guessing in the world would solve nothing so I walked back to the car and started to drive away. I was deflated; I felt such anticipation to finally reconnect with them. When the house was silent and empty, I left feeling the same. As I drove away, I hated the feeling that this was a futile trip. All of the mysteries about the house left me wanting more, I turned the car around and went back into the driveway. I found a piece of paper and wrote and then rewrote a note to “Matt &/or Jackie?”. I gave a message and my phone number and asked that if the tenants of the house was neither Matt nor Jackie that they contact me and make me aware that I need to continue my search. I expected nothing, but left the note attached to the duct tape on the front door.
Nothing happened for quite some time after I left the note. No calls, no new addresses found. Maybe my guess was true. Maybe it was Matt’s intention to avoid contact? Maybe the stresses of fatherhood and married life just lead him to decide less people in it would make things easier; and I was one the ones who had to go? I thought of that house often, of how the driveway and garage were empty. I pondered the many reasons any house would be that quiet and felt a need to get myself back up to it during daytime hours and see if anything was different. I had a busy schedule of classes and work for the next couple of weeks. Another road trip would have to wait.
Two months after the trip up to the house, I received short notice from a friend that he had an extra ticket to a show in Brooklyn. It was a band I had not seen in years and was very excited to go. We went into the city early enough to stop at a local bar and meet up with a few friends. I also managed to find a few friends I knew from high school. Eventually, the large crowd we gathered walked to the concert and went on to enjoy the beers, laughs and music. My friend had gotten lost in the crowd; After the last band finished, I went looking for him and I bumped into the bassist of my second band with Matthew. I was surprised to see him after so long and we caught up a bit on life. His current band was recording a new record and he was doing well. I eventually asked him about Matthew. When I brought him up, Sean said ‘Oh, I guess you haven’t heard?’ My heart sunk as I saw the look on his face, he was about to share bad news he had come to peace with but knew I would need a second to handle.
‘I haven’t heard anything about him in ages and have been searching for him.’
‘Well, Bryan; Matthew is in prison.’
Burned Wood and Lost Wishes: Lost & Found Pt. 3
08 July 2010
Lost & Found Pt. 1
Matthew was one of my best friends. He was my brother, my band mate. He was my Neal and I was his Jack. We met at a punk show in a squat in NYC. It was a tense introduction, and we left thinking each other was an asshole.
On another day, we met up at a gas station in Long Island. I was asking directions to a show, he happened to also be going to it so I followed him there, but we hardly spoke. After the show ended, my ex and I headed west; back to NJ. We stopped to eat at a diner. A little while after we sat down Matthew and Jackie walked in. I invited them to sit with us, and by the end of the night we were beginning to be friends. It turned out that, though we met up twice in NYC and he had an easily identifiable NYC accent, he was actually living in Dingmann's Ferry, PA. About thirty minutes from where I lived at the time.
It wasn't long after that Matthew and I were spending a lot of time together. He and I had many things in common. We loved the same music, authors and hobbies. We both grew up in inner city neighborhoods and had difficult relationships with our fathers growing up. We would hike the woods of NJ and PA, sometimes just finding calm places to talk into the night about our confusion of getting through our twenties. We went out skateboarding, went to punk shows, and eventually we started making music together. Matt and I were in two bands together. The music we made back then was a reflection into the confused and angry mind I was in back then, but I remember every note and show we played, and they are some of my most fond memories.
There was a night I needed a friend badly; due to my girlfriend of more than six years and I broking up. Matt came over with a couple six packs of Anchor Steam and we drank and talked into the night. We decided to play some music. I was on my acoustic guitar and Matthew sang. That night, our musical instincts and emotional connection were in perfect sync. We recorded five or six impromptu songs, all completely off the cuff, and they are the most emotional and nostalgic songs I ever wrote. The recording, is sadly, long gone, but that magical night echoes on in my mind.
As time passed, Matthew's relationship with Jackie got more serious. I was having my own complications in life and things were changing. I would see him less. A few weeks would go by, but we would eventually call each other and make time to get together. Eventually, I got an invite to their wedding. I went and had a great time, hoping this was the moment where things would only get better. For my relationship with him. It would not go as planned. I had to move not too long afterward and when I got settled in and tried to call Matt, his cell was disconnected. There had been more than a few times one of us would lose our cell or have to move; we always ended up finding a way to reconnect. That is not the case this time. It is now six years later, and I never received a phone call from him since.
Burned Wood and Lost Wishes: Lost & Found Pt. 2
On another day, we met up at a gas station in Long Island. I was asking directions to a show, he happened to also be going to it so I followed him there, but we hardly spoke. After the show ended, my ex and I headed west; back to NJ. We stopped to eat at a diner. A little while after we sat down Matthew and Jackie walked in. I invited them to sit with us, and by the end of the night we were beginning to be friends. It turned out that, though we met up twice in NYC and he had an easily identifiable NYC accent, he was actually living in Dingmann's Ferry, PA. About thirty minutes from where I lived at the time.
It wasn't long after that Matthew and I were spending a lot of time together. He and I had many things in common. We loved the same music, authors and hobbies. We both grew up in inner city neighborhoods and had difficult relationships with our fathers growing up. We would hike the woods of NJ and PA, sometimes just finding calm places to talk into the night about our confusion of getting through our twenties. We went out skateboarding, went to punk shows, and eventually we started making music together. Matt and I were in two bands together. The music we made back then was a reflection into the confused and angry mind I was in back then, but I remember every note and show we played, and they are some of my most fond memories.
There was a night I needed a friend badly; due to my girlfriend of more than six years and I broking up. Matt came over with a couple six packs of Anchor Steam and we drank and talked into the night. We decided to play some music. I was on my acoustic guitar and Matthew sang. That night, our musical instincts and emotional connection were in perfect sync. We recorded five or six impromptu songs, all completely off the cuff, and they are the most emotional and nostalgic songs I ever wrote. The recording, is sadly, long gone, but that magical night echoes on in my mind.
As time passed, Matthew's relationship with Jackie got more serious. I was having my own complications in life and things were changing. I would see him less. A few weeks would go by, but we would eventually call each other and make time to get together. Eventually, I got an invite to their wedding. I went and had a great time, hoping this was the moment where things would only get better. For my relationship with him. It would not go as planned. I had to move not too long afterward and when I got settled in and tried to call Matt, his cell was disconnected. There had been more than a few times one of us would lose our cell or have to move; we always ended up finding a way to reconnect. That is not the case this time. It is now six years later, and I never received a phone call from him since.
Burned Wood and Lost Wishes: Lost & Found Pt. 2
20 December 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
