So, Albion here I come. Located about an hours west of Rochester, it would be my final home inside corrections, where I could gather last minute instructions and tips before leaving this enforced time out to whatever the new normal would look like.

The bus ride was so very long. I was reminded of my Thanksgiving debacle getting to Mid-State, but fortunately, with several periods of non-movement, this one was simply just drawn out. I and a few other inmates had an early breakfast after being called out for transport. “Van Wagner, on the move” was what I had wanted to hear for so long. Strip searched, packs inspected, we boarded the transport bus, a medium size one, wearing our favorite jewelry though not joined to anyone this time. Too many stops with single departures I guess.

Seemed like we stopped at so many upstate facilities, then headed down to Elmira in the southern part of the State. I only hoped we wouldn’t have to spend the night there. But again, we were fortunate to only discharge and take on inmates. After what seemed like several hours there, we departed. It was also there that we received the infamous bag lunch. I traded what I could and gave most away, though I was not really sure when I would eat again.

I would say most acted bored on this trip. They may have only been trading one facility for another while in the midst of their bid. I was looking forward to the end. But I knew I best not share this good news with others as there always seemed to be someone who wanted to derail any such departures while they were stuck inside corrections. Odd, but it was true. I knew of several, often lifers who had nothing to lose, who sacrificed time in the box to fight with someone so the other inmate wouldn’t go home.

Another sweet move was to plant something – a banger (knife) or other contraband in the belongings of the guy soon to leave so that he would get jammed up and have his time extended. What better time or place than when on a move?

Bags were placed around and moved from bus to bus. And though they had a seal type wrap around them so any tampering could be detected, it was not a fool proof system. Hey, these were criminals, they knew how to short circuit the system to get what they wanted. CO’s usually looked the other way any way as long as they were not in danger. Or they looked aside for other reasons. How else could so many drugs of all kinds, not to mention pornography, (in a SO Program Facility no less!) make there way inside if not with a little help from friends.

So I was as vigilant as I could be not to tell many where I was going and why as well as to keep an eye on my belongings as much as I could. As with so much of my time inside corrections of late I felt invisible to others. Or maybe I had learned how not to stand out better than I had when I first came in.

Finally, after the sun was setting we were getting close to arriving. I could see some scenery out the front windows of our bus and recognized where we were as we neared the small town of Orleans, about an hour west of Rochester. Thank goodness, as I was having a difficult time feeling anything below my waist from all the sitting. The few guys left who were staying here went to one of two reception buildings for the usual search practices. I gathered the re-entry program was separate and thus had it’s own areas for living since we all did not go in the same building.

Once through with the normal rigmarole of inspection I went to my new and final home inside. It was a large room, bull pen style housing, with small dividers separating beds and bunks. At least we had pretty good windows. I landed on a top bunk of course and politely told the CO of my age and need to be removed. The State had determined anyone over 60 should not be on the top bunk. Of course he did little to change things and informed me the regular CO would take care of it when he came back. I was just happy to have a bed at this point. Meals were long over, so I brushed my teeth, made the bed, climbed up and curled up for the night. Only to be awaken for the night time count.

It seems at this facility, unlike others, the early night count, around 10:00, was made by either standing or sitting up in bed, no exceptions. If you were lucky enough to have fallen asleep, a neighbor would help you arise lest the CO’s have to do it, usually by banging their night stick on your bed frame or even your bed, hence the preference to have someone close awaken you.

The next day I went through some orientation and was matriculated into the re-entry program. In it, we would learn skills to aid reintegration into society, to behave like regular citizens and act so as not to return. It seemed the State knew and was tired of the revolving door for felons and was trying to do something about it, oddly enough. This was a relatively new program, only in it’s second year, so they were still learning. A good deal of what I was told they would be going over was what I had done for guys in the Phase III courses I facilitated back at Mid-State. Resume work, job interviews, work norms, changes in society since there incarceration, things of this type and more would be covered I was told. No sense trying to change anything, so I smiled and agreed I would do my best.

What was new was we were going to meet face to face with the parole officer we would have when we got out. After all, we had to report to someone who would watch over us during the completion of our bid on the outside instead of the inside. This would be good and an opportunity to see what I would have to deal with out there. Would they be like the CO’s in here, or like regular cops out there? Time would tell, but it added an air of expectancy to the program.

They also said they would be helping us get housing so we could be settled before leaving. That would be a big help to me now that I was to be homeless upon leaving. I was actually banking on them assisting in that area. They also would help put us in contact, if possible, with employers who might hire felons and give us the second chance we so badly needed.

In truth I was practicing being non-resistant. I surely needed practice in this area as pride often got the best of me, even from way back. After all, it was a mechanism I had used to forge ahead during difficult times as a child on the farm as well as in school. Being proud of accomplishments and striving to be the best wasn’t in itself bad or a problem as it fueled the fires to be better and accomplish things in the next level, whether in academics, sports, music, or other things I was involved in growing up. I learned it also kept my father off my back when I did well, so that in itself was a motivation.

The problem was the arrogance that crept into my being as a result of doing things well. It led to my thinking I could get away with other things, that I deserved things, that the rules didn’t always apply to me and stuff like that which caused the problems. Only when consequences occurred or were threatened did I seem to change, hence my desire to be proactive and cut the dance short. I do admit, prison was the shocker that taught me something needed to be done, something had to change else I could be back or cause more harm as I had by doing what I did. It could not go on as before, and for some time I felt the Holy Spirit leading me to change.

It could only be done from the inside, from wanting to change, then doing it. All the programs in the world could not bring it about if I wasn’t ready and willing to change, so that’s what I was all about at this point. Now I would have help from these new counselors in planning strategies that would help me, and everyone willing to do them, outside corrections. So that was a good thing and I looked forward to it. Anything to help.

I truly believed God had a better plan for my life than the existence I had been living prior to all this. I just wanted to be ready when he laid it out for me and willing to lay aside my plans for His. All the work I had done and was continuing to do on myself in learning deep seated reasons for my acting out and selfish behaviors as well as learning new behaviors would be useful from now on. I knew He wanted me to do the best I could at everything I did, especially being a follower of His son, Jesus.

So I was including that as part of my re-entry program and went to sleep thinking of doing just that.