Three Seats [View all]

"Since I've been writing to Pat, and he asked me not to let this prison explode, I've stepped forward and took control of the jail. Something that I never wanted to do, and of which is very dangerous to me ..... and now I am the director of the Rahway Prisoners Council on Penal Reform. So id tou and Pat and perhaps Russell P. really want to come into this pris"Since I've been writing to Pat, and he asked me not to let this prison explode, I stepped on and see what it is like ..... we can arrange a day in the near future. What the hell! If I can't come to you -- you come to me."
-- Rubin "Hurricane" Carter; letter to my brother Tom; 1974


I sat out at the edge of my lawn, and looked at where days of hard rain had created several streams. The water table has been full, and numerous springs on the hill behind me were gurgling, the fields saturated, and the run-off depositing deltas of organic materials on my lawn. These will soon be added to my compost pile for future gardens.

One of the streams that has run down near my driveway when the winter snows melt as long as I've lived here had cut a new channel the night before. It ran right into my garage, then a storage room, and next a gym, before starting to enter my kitchen. The rain was coming down at more than two inches per hour. My younger son had stopped in to use the gym, and was a tad surprised when he opened the door from the kitchen. He and his brother re-channeled the stream, then bailed out well over 150 gallons of water.

Both boys kept telling me to go sit down every time I attempted to help. Eventually I could actually feel the wisdom of their advice in my lower back and legs. While there is absolutely no scientific evidence proving my theory, I think all of this could be somehow related to my needing crutches today, and why I am limited primarily to sitting and thinking. I'm not even capable of bending down to feed the pride of neighborhood cats and kittens who hang out in my garage. I am thankful for my sons assistance.

Local communities located on the river flats had significany damage resulting from the rain and flooding. Bridges on the highways were washed out. While not as severe as the two major "floods of a century" in less than twenty years, it again shows that the environment is changing -- which implies that human behaviors must change if we are to adopt to climate change.



Next, I sit on a rock-solid stone wall on the other side of my house. The Guinea fowl and assortment of chickens gather in front of me, anticipating the bread I feed them for their mid-day snack. One rooster, who follows me like a dog on those days I can walk around, does the infamous sideways shuffle around each handful I toss on the ground. Only a young banty rooster -- clearly a game cock -- stands up to him. The rest of the flock moves like a school of fish, almost as an individual organism. I am fascinated between the similarities between the birds and the sick republicans inhabiting our towns and cities.

When feelings of anger, anxiety, and fear saturate the minds of human beings -- when they experience an inability to exercise any wholesome control over events that flood their lives, the result can be a prison riot like Rubin experienced in Trenton, or the freaks invading DC on January 6. What primitive brain function transforms humans in the manner that certain species of grasshoppers turn into locusts? To be convinced that aggression and weapons provide the best insurance of survival when the social environment changes? To draw a disturbed man from the security of his mother's home, to don a cheap and insulting version of a holy man's ceremonial outfit that Edward Sheriff Curtis photographed a century ago? What motivates a person to believe that will give him an honored status on January 6, when it could only identify him as severally disturbed?

Spending so many hours sitting provides me ample opportunity to think about these things. I remember a clip from Lawrence O'Donnell on "The Last Word," reporting on Trump's ugly rant at a prayer breakfast (see below). Perhaps that single clip provides the evidence I seek. For it is hatred that turns fear and ignorance into the locust rage.

I decide to go out to the pond, to make sure the western bank held up to the rain. Navigating on crutches becomes more difficult as I make my way through an area that in normal times is a swamp. As I get to the chair at the water's edge, I can see my own reflection on the pond's surface. The pond is in fine shape, and the fish that felt the vibrations from my steps gather in front of me, eager for the food they associate with my being there. It takes time for my eyes to adjust so I can see the fish at various depths in the water. But the cedar rocking chair my son has placed there for me is comfortable.

It was while sitting near water that Onondaga Nation Chief Paul Waterman would speak to me about past events in Iroquois history, when his ancestors' ancestors experienced phases where the social order faltered. These periods were marked by violence that pitted tribe against tribe, leading to clan against clan. Around 450 ad, the second Iroquois prophet, known as the Peace Maker, reached out to the leaders of various groups, and taught cooperation's advantages over conflict. This included ceremonies that were highlighted by burying weapons of war under white pines, leading to the saying about burying the hatchet.

When Rubin was running for the director's position of the inmates' council, he approached the leaders of the various groups of inmates with a similar message. As director, he got concerned people, including state politicians and forensic psychologists, to visit Rahway. In my files, I have a lot of the paperwork he sent me copies of back in 1974. With the cooperation of the leaders of the inmate factions, they gathered weapons from inmates, and turned them over to the administration. As a direct result, he was sent to the notorious Vroom Psychiatrict Building, as in a sick environment, few good actions go unpunished.

In his second book, Rubin noted that as a young man, he had favored the Malcolm X approach to that of Martin Luther King. By now, however, he understood that King had demonstrated the correct path to resolving social conflict. We used to have long, late night phone conversations about King's using three of the Greek words for "love," for Martin was as human as any of us, and is known to have made hilarious jokes about some of his opposition, most famously Eugene "Bull" Connor.

King was not talking about "love" in the sense of one's partner, nor of the type we feel for other realtives and friends. Rather, he advocated for a general love of humankind, and a recognition that people ruled by hatred are victims of their own ignorance. That hatred and the related negative emotions are parasites that eat upon one's good qualities. And that would be the message that Rubin sought to spread in his second life.

Storm clouds begin coming in from the western sky. Using my crutches, I stand up and take a last quick look at my reflection on the pond's surface. The rain begins to fall as I am struggling to get by the swamp's edge. I laugh to myself, and remember that Rubin dedicated his second book to every human being who bravely looks within to try to heal without.

Peace,
H2O Man