IN SEARCH OF SING SING

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(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

Of all days of this February, yesterday was perhaps the coldest and windiest day of all, the worst day to be strolling along the Hudson River. Not that we strolled much. We spent most of our time in the car. But the little bit that we spent outside walking was enough to turn our faces windburn red and make our little noses freeze. Yet, we ventured forth nonetheless. It was a day when the urge to explore was upon us. We could not be content to brave the day away basking in the warm glow of the dvd player. Hot cups of tea in stocking feet and brothy bowls of soup were not our course. We needed the satisfaction of adventure!

We went in search of Sing Sing. What better activity on a wind-worn day than seeking out one of America’s most notorious prisons? What better sight to warm the soul than that of “The Big House,” the house of murderers, rapists and other socially threatening individuals? With the breeze blowing fiercely south, we went “up the river”.

“Why?” you ask.

While in need of a destination, the idea of finding Sing Sing struck me as I did some reading for my current class. I’ve been studying deviance and have been required to read the book “Newjack” by Ted Conover, who purposely became a corrections officer at Sing Sing state prison in New York in order to write about prison culture. While checking a map yesterday to see exactly where Sing Sing was located, I noticed that it was just a few towns away from the legendary Sleep Hollow, the setting for Washington Irving’s famous story. It was there that the headless horseman haunted the dwellers of the riverside village. The combination of interest in Sing Sing and the curiosity of experiencing Sleepy Hollow was enough to impel Arissa and I to hop in the car and speed our way to New York in spite of the chilliness of the day.

Seventy-five miles later, we found ourselves on the Tappan Zee Bridge, spanning the churning brown waters of the Hudson River north of New York City. To our right, the George Washington Bridge crossed the same waters, the rising columns of Manhattan’s skyscrapers visible beyond its suspension cables. To our left, somewhere on the eastern bank upriver was Sing Sing.

Immediately after crossing the bridge, we exited the thruway to take Route 9 north. The first town we passed through was Tarrytown. There we were soon impressed with the stone church building of the First Baptist Church. Here we made our first exposure to the wind to take a few pictures of the church. We endured only long enough to click off a few shots and headed back to the car, happy for the shelter of my little Toyota.

Next we entered the village of Sleepy Hollow. I could see how this little town could be spooky as in the “Legend of Sleepy Hollow”. There was a cemetery there that stretched for nearly a mile along the main road. We came across a sign that signified the original location of the bridge over which the headless horseman traveled. I could just picture the fog coming off of the river, “spookyfying” the whole God-forsaken place.

A few more miles up the river, past Briar Cliff Manor, we arrived at Ossining, the home of Sing Sing. It wasn’t always called Ossining. Originally, it shared the same name as the prison, derived from the name of the Sint Sinck American Indians. Eventually, not wanting to be associated with the stigma of the prison, the town changed its name to Ossining. Construction of the original prison was begun in 1825. 100 inmates from Auburn prison arrived in that year to begin excavating marble from which to build their own cells. Each cell was only three feet, three inches wide, seven feet deep and six feet, seven inches high. Three and one half years after arriving, on November 26, 1828, the inmates were locked into the cells they had built. The next day, a Bible was provided for each of them. (Click here to read more about Sing Sing on Wikipedia.)

I have to say that Sing Sing prison is the best kept secret of any town in North America. There was not one sign anywhere in the town of Ossining that pointed us in the direction of the prison. When first entering the town, we thought, “It’s a maximum security prison. It must be pretty easy to see. Right?” Wrong! We drove through the town and back again without finding the prison! I remembered that Conover, in his book, mentioned that you could not even see the main gate of the prison from the town because originally they brought the prisoners to the prison by way of the river. The main gate faced the river. I remembered that he said that only a few sides of the high prison wall were visible from the town. Eventually, quite by accident, we came across these walls on State Street. The cold, windy climate of the day was a quite fitting setting for our first encounter with the wall. It was high and cold. No life passed through that wall. There was no escape from it. The whole prison sat below the edge of a hill along the river. Moving further uphill along a side street did not provide anymore of an expansive view of the prison complex. It was virtually cut off from the town proper, imprisoned between State Street and the cold rough waters of the Hudson.

We clicked off some photos after finding the prison walls, before noticing the signs that said “photography prohibited”. (I have since uploaded them to my website. Deviant? You know it!) Then we began looking for a place to eat dinner. We drove around Ossining, back and forth a few times. We discovered Main Street. Then guess what we found. Another entrance to Sing Sing! Off of Main Street, we went down Hunter Street and suddenly found ourselves in front of an employee parking garage! Straight ahead of us there was a guard tower visible behind razor wire. There was a sign that said “Visitor Parking.” We followed that driveway for a few dozen yards, just enough to click off another illegal photo of one of the brick prison buildings. Rather than come within sight of the armed tower guards again, we u-turned our way out of there and made for dinner once again.

I have to say that at the point of seeing the cold Sing Sing buildings, I felt completely disconnected from the atmosphere that Ted Conover described in his book. While he described situations in which correction officers sometimes had containers of urine thrown upon their faces, I sat in my car comfortably listening to classic rock on Q104.3. While he wrote of his continual fear that prisoners might become violent, and described how in his early days on the job he was once unexpectedly punched in the side of the head and nearly knocked unconscious, I held hands with my girlfriend just outside of the cement walls of Sing Sing. Even while stepping outside of the car to snap a photo, all was silent but the wind. We saw no sign of life whatsoever in the prison complex. It was an imaginary world that existed only in old movies and Conover’s book. Certainly, my comfortable, middle class, white New Jersey life had nothing in common with the harsh daily experience of the 2,000 plus inmates and the lesser number of officers responsible for their charge just beyond the wall in front of me. The wind effectively carried their voices of complaint, sorrow and turmoil out across the river yesterday. The prison was a ghost town, as far as I could tell.

We didn’t spend much time around the prison. Though my car is small, it is not inconspicuous, being RED! We figured it was best to high tail it out of there and make our escape back to “civilization”. Dinner had become a necessity.

Unable to find anything appealing in Ossining (while we enjoy Mexican food, we just weren’t in the mood to stop in any of the several restaurants that presented themselves), we turned our way south toward Sleepy Hollow in search of food once again. While the Headless Horsemen Diner was cute in a classic literary kind of way, it wasn’t all that appealing to our bellies in a satisfactory kind of way. We continued back down Route 9, eventually finding the Eldorado West Diner. Though you would think that “one could not go wrong with meatloaf,” you would be sadly mistaken in this case. When all else fails, resort to filling up on the complimentary breadsticks and crackers. Such was our dinner.

Soon thereafter, we raced our way across the Tappan Zee, through the crosswinds and the hauntings of Sleepy Hollow and Sing Sing, back to New Jersey, back to the comfort of the familiar. Ichabod be damned! We were home! Wind at our backs, prison behind us, we were home! The familiar and the comfortable.

CORRESPONDING PICTURE GALLERY:

FOR MORE PHOTOS OF SING SING BY A RETIRED SING SING CO:

In Search of Sing Sing – February 26, 2006 (Photos)

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

Read my corresponding blog entry here: In Search of Sing Sing

[CLICK PICTURES TO ENLARGE]

1st Baptist Church, Tarrytown, NY
1st Baptist Church, Tarrytown, NY

1883 Lighthouse, Sleepy Hollow, NY
1883 Lighthouse, Sleepy Hollow, NY

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View of Sleepy Hollow  from Kingsland Point Park
View of Sleepy Hollow
from Kingsland Point Park

Lighthouse and Tappan Zee Bridge
Lighthouse and Tappan Zee Bridge

Kingsland Point Park, Looking North
Kingsland Point Park, Looking North

Old Park Building, Kingsland Point Park
Old Park Building, Kingsland Point Park

At the Train Station  near Kingsland Point Park
At the Train Station
near Kingsland Point Park

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Street in Ossining
Street in Ossining

Church in Ossining
Church in Ossining

Main Street, Ossining
Main Street, Ossining

Church in Ossining
Church in Ossining

Prison Wall, off of State St.
Prison Wall, off of State St.

Prison Wall, off of State St.
Prison Wall, off of State St.

Prison Wall, along State St.
Prison Wall, along State St.

View of Prison from State St.
View of Prison from State St.

Top of Prison Building,  barely visible at end of street
Top of Prison Building,
barely visible at end of street

State Street
State Street

At the End of Hunter St.
At the End of Hunter St.

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"Up the River", "The Big House"
“Up the River”, “The Big House”

Driving into the Visitors' Entrance
Driving into the Visitors’ Entrance

I AM PLAIDMAN!

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(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

Whoa! Check out the shirt!

Can’t you just hear the bagpipes playing in the background? Here comes William Wallace now!

Someone commented that I looked like I should be working on a farm. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea!

Hey, I got the shirt for $5 at J. C. Penny’s. What can I say? (When I wore the other $5 shirt, someone else said I looked like I should be wearing snakeskin boots and working in a rodeo.) The only days in my life I am caught wearing a shirt like this are Fridays, “Casual” Fridays.

“And here’s Sam coming down the red carpet, casually sporting a traditional Scottish print top by Tommy MacHilfiger and the consistently popular and corporately acceptable navy blue Dockers by Levi McStrauss.”

“Ah yes, Joan! And what better day to be in such befitting attire than today, Flag Day!”

Wait… Flag Day?

Yes, that’s what the calendar on my desk says. Check it out:

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But what does the “M” stand for? Where is “M”?

Let us consult Google…

Here is a list of “M” countries, along with images of their flags:

  • 22px-flag_of_macedonia-svg – Macedonia
  • 22px-flag_of_madagascar-svg – Madagascar
  • 22px-flag_of_malawi-svg – Malawi
  • 22px-flag_of_malaysia-svg – Malaysia
  • 22px-flag_of_maldives-svg – Maldives
  • 22px-flag_of_mali-svg – Mali
  • 22px-flag_of_malta-svg – Malta
  • 22px-flag_of_mauritania-svg – Mauritania
  • 22px-flag_of_mauritius-svg – Mauritius
  • 22px-flag_of_mexico-svg – Mexico
  • 22px-flag_of_micronesia-svg – Micronesia
  • 22px-flag_of_moldova-svg – Moldova
  • 22px-flag_of_monaco-svg – Monaco
  • 22px-flag_of_mongolia-svg – Mongolia
  • 22px-flag_of_morocco-svg – Morocco
  • 22px-flag_of_mozambique-svg – Mozambique
  • 22px-flag_of_myanmar-svg – Myanmar

So, which one? Is it chocolate Malta? Smoking Mauritania? Maldives in your Cosmopolitan? Micronesia, when you can’t remember the small things? Macedonia nut?

I like Madagascar. That was a funny movie!

So, happy Flag Day to the Madagascarians! (“Madagascarians” – container toting, angry motorists who ran out of gas?) Wear your colors proudly!

One final word, courtesy of Dove chocolate… I found this inside one of their wrappers today:

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Awww! Thanks! How sweet of you!

Me and my plaids are outta here! Bye!

“SAVE THE EAGLES” -or- “THE DREARY-THURSDAY-I-HAVE-A-LONG-DAY-AHEAD iPOD SHUFFLE” -or- “THE ARTICLE IN WHICH I USE THE WORD ‘KOOKIE’… MORE THAN ONCE”

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(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

I had to get outside for a walk in the middle of the day today. The weather was dreary and damp. But I had to get out of this cube and forget about the pressures of the day, at least for 15 minutes. I’ve been working on The Project from Hell. I think a few of the people involved came straight from hell. At this point in the project, they can go straight back for all I care! So, you see, this midday stroll was a necessity. A necessity for me from the point of my mental wellbeing. A necessity for the Hell People from the point of their physical safety. I grabbed my iPod, shoved the earphones in my ears (because that’s where they go), and walked out the door. I chose “shuffle” on the iPod and the random songs began to play.

Two minutes later I rounded the back corner of the building and followed the driveway along the edge of the woods. I looked up and there, to my amazement, was a bald eagle flying just twenty yards ahead of me! It was gorgeous! Beautiful white head and tail in sharp contrast to its black body and wings. It gracefully tilted through the branches of the trees, lowered toward the small river behind the office, and sailed its way downstream and out of my view. I was nearly ecstatic! A minute later, another employee who I never saw before came walking from the opposite direction. “Did you see that eagle?” I asked. “It was beautiful! Big white head and tail! Amazing!” He replied that he didn’t see it and gave me the skeptical eye. Well, he can just join the Hell People on their return trip. I saw an eagle and it was real. Let him think I’m kookie.

Speaking of kookie, here’s where my little story gets kookie, for real. I kid you not when I inform you that within two minutes of seeing that great big beautiful bird, the song “Fly Like an Eagle” by Steve Miller came on my iPod. I kid you not. Don’t give me the skeptical eye. I was almost like, “Whoa, dude! That’s freaky!” But since I was alone with no one to call “Dude,” I didn’t. I just continued walking and thinking, “I wish I could fly like an eagle ‘til I’m free! Damn! That’s what I need! I should just soar right out of this stink-hole!”

Well, let me kid you not again and get more kookie on your skeptical ass. Three songs later, on the opposite side of the office building, a song by The Guess Who came on the iPod. (No, I didn’t mean for you to “guess who”. That’s the name of the band, silly!) It was an old song, as all Guess Who songs are old, called “Guns, Guns, Guns”. Suddenly, I heard the lines, “Eagles are gone, and no more caribou; Godspeed, Mother Nature; I never really wanted to say good-bye.”

Then I was almost like, “Whoa, dude! It’s a sign! God is speaking to you! You have to do something!”

And I was like, “Like what? Free Willy?”

“Nah, dude! You have to save the eagles!”

“Well, what about the caribou?”

“Nah, they can’t fly…”

Reluctantly though, I had to go back into the building. There was no time for saving the eagles. I had a meeting to attend. Then another one after that. Then another one at 7:00 tonight.

Now, you may wonder, “What was an eagle doing in New Jersey? Isn’t that place full of turnpikes, chemical factories, and places with names like Bayonne?”

Yes, but not completely. Much of New Jersey is still quite scenic. But that is changing. Just like the rest of the world, New Jersey’s ecology is being eroded and polluted. The Guess Who may have been worried about humans killing eagles with guns back in the day. Today, after decade upon decade of industrialization, there are worse threats against the lives of eagles, caribou, and humans. Our country’s current Commander and Thief and his kookie cronies have done much to reverse environmental laws and put the ecology of both our country and the entire world at greater risk. They close their eyes to the evidence of a polluted environment, plug their ears to the whimpers of dying animals and sick children, and wave away the risk of global warming with their calloused greedy hands. (Speaking of global warming, I also saw red-breasted robins on my walk. These are birds that show up closer to spring. They seem to be here rather early this year.) “Let us eat, drink and burn oil, for tomorrow we die,” they sing. Yes, tomorrow we die. Unless, someone steps up and saves us all. Maybe guns aren’t the problem anymore. Maybe they are a solution. After all, we can’t wait for the caribou to save us.

(I can hear the Patriot Act alarms going off now. “He said guns on his website! You can’t say ‘guns’ on a website!”)

Anyway… eagles migrate through New Jersey. I kid you not.

Wow! Free time is over already. I have another meeting to catch. Bye.

A Motha Friggin A

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

I got a gosh dang, motha friggin A on my sociology class!

Did you hear me??? Here, let me say it louder!

I got an:

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I worked my little tushie off to get that grade! Whew! I’m happy!

Now… I’m scheduled to take two classes for the spring semester: Deviance (another sociology class) and World Civilizations (history). I was scheduled for one more, Cultural Anthropology. But I dropped that. I think I would put way too much pressure on myself by attempting three classes.

I’m caught between the desire to meet all the requirements for a degree in Social Sciences and the need to maintain a normal life. I’ve had to remind myself that I have a full time job, play in two bands, have five children and a girlfriend, and occasionally need a day to breathe… and maybe a minute or two to update my website. So, that’s why I decided to drop the third class. I think I can handle two classes, as I did in the fall semester (Business Ethics and Small Business Management). My only other concern is PAYING for them.