NEW NEIGHBOR in Adventures From Prison

Two cubes over from me is a man who shouldn’t be in prison, no matter if he chopped up his grandma and ate her as fondue. His name is Robby and he’s mentally handicapped. If I had to guess I would put his cognitive ability around 8 or 9 years old. He’s a lighter skin black man with a pockmarked and scarred face, kind brown eyes, and lips so large they get in the way when he speaks. He’s probably near my age and is a bigger man who always looks a little disheveled even wearing the same clothes as everyone else. For the first few days, I avoided him. I have a huge heart, especially for lost souls, but having a guy like that attached to you in a living environment with no privacy is asking for stress and frustration. But, of course, he found me. Years of living with a woman who makes her livelihood working with kids like Robby has proved extremely valuable. Turns out I WAS paying attention all the times she told me about work. So, thankfully, I was ready when Robby walked in and introduced himself. He was very polite and well-mannered, if not a little too friendly. I quickly established boundaries and a time limit to our conversation, because I already knew of guys who couldn’t get Robby to leave and he took right to it. Turns out he found out that I’m a librarian and that I work with magazines. Robby loves magazines, but more than that, Robby loves magazine subscription cards. It’s one of his fixations. He asked me to bring back as many as I could, then asked for more. Sigh. I think he collects them like trading cards…at least I hope so. Otherwise he’s going to be getting a lot of magazines. He mentioned something about them being postage paid and the “Bill Me Later” option, so I am a little concerned. I keep telling myself, “It’s not your problem. It’s not your problem. It’s not your problem.” I’ve gotten in trouble for playing the hero and rescuer before and I won’t do it again. Which of course makes me feel awful; but I’m sticking to my mantra…for now. At least there are a few other decent men on my unit and they’ve taken a more active role than I in Robby’s acclimation to Federal Prison. (Sadly he has done time in the Michigan prison system before). The whole thing just makes me angry. Why are we locking up guys like Robby in an unsupportive environment where he will learn nothing of value? I assume he is here because of impulse control / trust in the wrong person and I know skills can be taught to prevent further slips by the Mentally Handicapped. Why isn’t he in a hospital somewhere getting these lessons? The first few years I was here, I kept waiting for the government to realize guys like me don’t belong here and to do something about it. After seeing Robby I know for sure that no one cares. I’ve come to terms with it as it applies to computer criminals, but for the Mentally Handicapped I don’t think I can. So, I have a new friend. Let’s just hope I don’t have to find space in my Hobbit’s hole!