Attending a funeral from prison

There are no absolutes in prison anywhere. Just a soon as you say this is how it is, bam, somewhere else handles it entirely differently. Funerals are no exception. If I was to attend my sisters funeral the first thing that would have to happen would be that I would have to be approved by the administration, probably a captain, my caseworker and possibly the Chaplain. I would need medium security at best, which I amazingly had. The second thing I would need to be able to do is afford the trip, one that I would have to pay for. I would also pay the way for the guard that would be traveling with me, plus his housing at a hotel, plus any overtime that he would incur. Most men can't afford these costs and neither could I.

Hanging around the Chaplain's office after hearing the news offered minimal consoling. The Chaplain and Catholic Priest moaned that they wished there was something they could do. In walked Staff Psychologist Jim Woods. Mr Woods was a congenial enough fellow, always with a smile and something uplifting to say. I had done him a favor in times past by reading onto a cassette a very technical text book that a fellow psychologist and friend needed to have to take a particular course. The problem was that he was blind. My help enabled him to listen to his course studies thus being able to take the course.

Mr. Woods could see the devestation written all over everyones faces and asked what the problem was. Mr. Woods went into the office with Chaplain Beherens and Father Jones. When he came out he walked right out of the office not saying a word. Chaplain Beherens with a smile on his face said, "We got the money." Some things you don't ask questions about, you just go with the flow, and if I had the money then I had the money.