One hot steamy morning in Washington DCin 2003 I went with my young friend Liz to visit our friend, Gary, in DC gaol.
Liz and I were living in the CW community in DC and Gary was a member of Jonah House in Baltimore. Both communities were, and still are, dedicated to serving the poor in the neighbourhood by providing shelter and food and taking part in nonviolent direct action against all forms of war and war making. At that time all community members in both communities were white. The people we served were either African American or Latino with a small number of white Vietnam war veterans. Both our community, in the Petworth area of DC, and Gary’s, in West Baltimore, were in predominantly poor Black neighbourhoods of our respective cities.
Gary, originally from Madison Wisconsin had been found guilty and sent to jail for a nonviolent protest at the Pentagon. I can’t remember the length of his sentence but he was in DC so Liz, originally from the Virginia suburbs of DC, and I set off to visit him.
The forbidding building of the jail loomed ahead as we took our places in a long queue of African American and Latino visitors, mainly women and children, some babes in arms. We had been warned that visiting was a long process so we were prepared to wait.
The queue moved at a snail’s pace so imagine our surprise and acute embarrassment when an official came up ti Liz and myself and escorted us to the front of the queue. There was one grumbling in the queue but not much.
They checked our ID and processed us. Ther was a brief delay when the guy questioned whether my passport was valid ID in the US. So much for the request in the front of the passport from Her Brittanic Majesty’s Secretary of State requiring I be allowed to pass freely without let or hindrance – but I digress.
Liz and i were led to thee visiting room. We sat in front of a glass screen and Gary was brought in on the other side We had to speak via telephone with him. Honestly, it felt like being in a film except it was our friend who was incarcerated and sitting on the other side of a glass screen.
Gary was pleased to see us and we exchanged news, then Liz and I had to leave.
It had been an hour since we had been taken to the front of the queue and as we descended the shabby stairs we met the women who had been near us in the queue. They greeted us with cheery smiles and asked if we’d had a good visit as we passed.
Outside the sun was blazing and the air humid. The visiting queue was even longer and Liz and I , lost in thought, made our way across the car park, heading back to Petworth and home
Live Adventurously 