MORE JAIL TIME

WHILE I LIVED AND WORKED IN COSTA RICA I BECAME INTERESTED IN THE ARCHEOLOGY OF THAT COUNTRY. I READ EVERYTHING I COULD FIND WHICH WAS VERY LITTLE. I BEGAN COLLECTING ARTIFACTS OF CERAMIC, STONE, JADE AND GOLD. I FOUND ART DEALERS IN LOS ANGELES AND NEW YORK WHO WERE SO INTERESTED IN THESE PRE-COLUMBIAN ARTIFACTS THAT THEY WERE SENDING ME CHECKS EVEN BEFORE THEY SAW WHAT THEY WERE GOING TO GET. AT TIMES MOST ITEMS ARRIVED BROKEN. THAT DID NOT BOTHER THE DEALERS. THEY JUST GLUED THE PIECES TOGETHER AND THE ITEMS NOW LOOKED OLDER THEN EVER. IN ACTUALITY THE AGE WAS BETWEEN 600 TO 800 YEARS OLD.
SO I BEGAN SHIPPING ITEMS TO THEM THAT I PURCHASED FROM DIGGERS WHO MADE A LIVING AT IT. MY SHIPPING TO THE U.S. LASTED SEVERAL WEEKS UNTIL THE POST OFFICE BECAME CURIOUS AS TO WHAT WAS IN THE PACKAGES. I TOLD THEM AND THEY SAID THAT I CANNOT DO THIS WITHOUT CHECKING WITH THE MUSEUM. THE MUSEUM HAD THE RIGHT TO KEEP WHATEVER THY WANTED.I ALSO HAD TO PRODUCE PHOTOS OF EACH INDIVIDUAL ITEMS. THIS SAILED ALONG SMOOTHLY FOR ANOTHER FEW WEEKS UNTIL THE MUSEUM CUT ME OUT ALTOGETHER. TODAY IT IS ILLEGAL TO TAKE ANY PRE-COLUMBIAN ARTIFACTS OUT OF THE COUNTRY. HOWEVER BACK THEN ( ABOUT 40 YEARS AGO) WHEN I FINALLY LEFT COSTA RICA AFTER HAVING LIVED THERE FOR SEVERAL YEARS AND HAD A SUBSTANTIAL COLLECTION I PUT THEM IN TWO CRATES AND SLIPPED THRU CUSTUMS AS BAGGAGE. THE CUSTOMS AT MIAMI LOOKED INSIDE ONE OF THE CRATES AND SAID ," JUST THESE OLD POTS". THEY WERE MUCH MORE INTERESTED IN THE PARROT MY FIVE YEAR OLD SON WAS CARRYING ON A STICK. BUT WE GOT THRU WITH NO TROUBLE.
I WAS INTERESTED IN GOING ON A DIG WITH TWO MEN I HAD BEFRIENDED. THEY WERE FROM A LITTLE TOWN OF TURRIALBA (TODAY IT IS NOT SO LITTLE). WE WENT UP INTO THE HILLS TO SEE IF WE COULD FIND POTENTIAL GRAVE SITES. WE FOUND ONE AFTER SEARCHING FOR ABOUT TWO DAYS. THREE LARGE ROCKS SET IN A TRIANGLE OFTEN MARKED A GRAVE SITE. IT WAS NOT EASY TO FIND SINCE THE RAIN FOREST GROWTH COVERED EVERYTHING. WE DUG FOR THREE HOURS IN THE SWELTERING HEAT AND CAME UP WITH A SMALL BROKEN POT. CERTAINLY NOT THE GRAVE SITE OF AN IMPORTANT PERSON. THAT WAS MY EXPERIENCE WITH PRE-COLUMBIAN GRAVE DIGGING.
WE CAME OUT OF THE HILLS AND INTO THE TOWN OF TURRIALBA. UNFORTUNATELY THERE WAS A RUMOR GOING AROUND THAT SOME GRINGO HAD STOLEN A CAR. WHEN I SHOWED UP IN TOWN I WAS THAT GRINGO. WE TOOK A ROOM IN A HOTEL AND SAT AROUND DRINKING BEER AND DISCUSSING WHAT TO DO NEXT WHEN SUDDENLY THE DOOR BURST OPEN AND TWO SOLDIERS WITH RIFLES AND BAYONETS ATTACHED JUMPED IN. WE WERE QUITE STARTLED AND WE RAISED OUR ARMS ABOVE OUR HEAD IN RESPONSE TO THEIR ORDER. MY TWO FRIEND WERE SOON LET GO. I WENT OFF TO THE TOWN JAIL ALONG WITH MY BACK PACK AND MY SIX SHOOTER. I TOLD MY TWO COMPANIONS TO GO BACK TO SAN JOSE AND TELL MR. FONT WHAT HAPPENED. YOU WILL RECALL MR. FONT FROM MY EXPERIENCE IN THE PENITENTIARY.
I WAS PUT IN A SMALL CELL APPROXIMATELY SIX FEET WIDE BY EIGHT FEET LONG. IT HAD, AT LEAST, A RAISED PLATFORM OF BOARDS THAT YOU COULD SLEEP ON. THE DOOR WAS OF WOODEN PLANKS AND I COULD SEE A LITTLE BETWEEN THEM. THERE WAS A DRUNK IN THE CELL NEXT TO ME. HE WAS YELLING AND CRYING AND BANGING ON THE WOODEN DOOR. FROM TIME TO TIME HE WOULD SLUMP TO THE FLOOR AND THEN I COULD HEAR CLIMBING BACK UP TO A STANDING POSITION SWEARING AND CURSING ONLY TO SLUMP BACK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN. SOMEBODY IN ANOTHER CELL WOULD YELL OUT SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP HIJO DE PUTA THIS HAPPENED SEVERAL TIMES UNTIL HE DID FINALLY FALL ASLEEP. I COULD NOT HELP BUT CHUCKLE .
AFTER A RESTLESS NIGHT SLEEPING ON THE BOARDS I WAS BROUGHT IN THE OFFICE OF THE (JEFE). THIS WAS THE BIG CHEESE OF TURRIALBA. KIND OF LIKE A SHERIFF AND MAYOR AND ALL ROUND BIG WHEEL. HE WAS FAT AND GREASY AND HAD A THIN MUSTACHE I SAT AT HIS DESK AND HE HANDED ME A PAPER THAT HE HAD HIS GIRL JUST FINISH TYPING. I WAS NOT TOO GOOD AT READING SPANISH BUT THE GIST OF THE PAPER WAS THAT IF I LEFT MY GUN WITH HIM I WOULD GO FREE. THE GUN WAS A SHINNY COLT 22 CALIBER SIX SHOOTER. I TOLD HIM IF HE WANTED TO BUY MY GUN I WOULD SELL IT TO HIM BUT I WOULD NOT GIVE IT TO HIM. HE BECAME VERY ANGRY AND TORE THE PAPER TO SHREDS AND I WAS MARCHED BACK TO MY CELL. IT WAS LATER ON IN THE AFTER NOON THAT I WAS FREED AND KEPT MY GUN. MY FRIENDS HAD RETURNED TO SAN JOSE AND FOUND MR FONT AND EXPLAINED WHAT HAD HAPPENED. MR FONT CALLED SOME POLITICAL BUDDY WHO CALLED MR. GREASY AND I WAS OUT. A WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE.

ADDENDUM TO JAIL TIME

THIRTY FIVE YEARS LATER I RETURNED TO THIS FORTRESS ON THE HILL. THE DRAB SANDSTONE BLOCKS WERE NOW PAINTED WITH BRIGHT COLORS. GONE WERE THE THE MACHINE GUNS FROM THE FOUR TURRETS. I WENT INSIDE THE BUILDING HAD BEEN RENOVATED TO AN ART INSTITUTE AND PART MUSEUM AND A SECTION FOR CHILDREN. IT WAS UNRECOGNIZEABLE AT THE TIME THERE WAS A HISTORICAL PHOTO DISPLAY OF THE HOLOCAUST. I WALKED AROUND AND TRIED TO VISUALIZE WHERE THE CHECK IN DESK WAS LOCATED, WHERE THE IRON GATES WERE, THE HALLWAY WITH THE STONE BENCH AND THE BLACK SOOT COVERED KITCHEN. ALL GONE IN ITS PLACE A LIGHT AND LIVELY ATMOSPHERE.
THE DEPLORABLE CONDITIONS THAT EXISTED HERE WERE WELL KNOWN, I AM SURE,TO MOST CITIZENS. THANKS TO THE HUMAN RIGHTS ACTIVISTS THE PRISON IS NO MORE. I NEVER ASKED WHAT HAPPENED TO THOSE LOST INMATES.
THE EXPERIENCE THAT I HAD EVEN FOR ONLY ABOUT THREE DAYS MADE ME TO THINK OF THE PRISONS IN THE UNITED STATES AND THE INMATES IN THEM. AT LEAST THEY HAVE CLOTHES TO WEAR EVEN THO THEY ARE PRISON GARB. THREE NUTRITIONALEALS EVERY DAY A TOILET AND SINK AND BED IN EVERY CELL, TOILET PAPER, TELEVISION, WORK OUT ROOM, BASKET BALL OUTDOORS AND ABOVE ALL FREE MEDICAL AND DENTAL CARE THAT WE, THE ORDINARY WORKING CITIZEN, HAVE TO PAY FOR, THE INMATES IN THE PRISONS IN CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICA WOULD BE DUMBFOUNDED AND FIND IT IMMPOSSIBLE TO BELIEVE. COMPARATIVELY SPEAKING ITS LIKE HAVING A ROOM IN THE HILTON. THE DEATHS AND VIOLENCE AND HOMO SEXUALITY IS ANOTHER MATTER. AT LEAST IT TAKES PLACE IN A NICER ATMOSPHERE..

JAILTIME

MY FRIEND ALVARO HAD A LARGE WOODEN FRAME HOUSE IN THE SMALL TOWN OF SAN ISIDRO DE CORONADO ABOUT A TWENTY MINUTE BUS RIDE FROM SAN JOSE UP THE VALLEY. THE HOUSE HAD FOUR BEDROOMS ONE BATHROOM AND A KITCHEN. I NEEDED A LARGE HOUSE BECAUSE I WAS EXPECTING MY WIFE AND TWO BOYS AND MY PARTNER KEVIN CAMPBELL AND HIS WIFE AND SON. WE WERE ALL GOING TO LIVE TOGETHER FOR A TIME. LIKE ALL TOWNS AND CITIES FOUNDED BY THE SPANISH EXPLORERS A COUPLE OF HUNDRED YEARS AGO THEY HAD THIER CATHEDRAL-LIKE CHURCH IN FRONT OF THE TOWN SQUARE. IN SOME PLACES THE SQUARES ARE USED AS SOCCER FIELDS AND IN OTHER CASES SUCH AS IN SAN JOSE BAND SHELL LIKE STRUCTURES WERE BUILT OF CONCRETE AND USED TO MAKE POLITICAL SPEACHES AND FOR ENTERTAINMENT. AS I WALKED FROM MY HOUSE TO THE BUS STOP I WOULD GLANCE OCCASIONALLY TO MY LEFT OR RIGHT AND WOULD CATCH A GLIMPSE OF A FACE LOOKING AT ME. AS SOON AS OUR EYES MET THE FACE WOULD DISAPPEAR. IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT I WAS A STRANGER IN TOWN AND BECAUSE OF MY ANTICS WAS PUT UNDER SUSPICION. WHY, ONE PERSON IN SUCH A LARGE HOUSE? I WOULD COME AND GO AT ODD HOURS. SOMETIMES I WOULD BE AWAY FOR DAYS. I WAS SEEN ON THE ROOF STRINGING A RADIO ANTENNA THIS WAS IN THE DAYS WHEN THERE WERE VERY FEW TOURISTS AROUND AND THE PEOPLE IN THESE SMALL TOWNS HAD NEVER SEEN A GRINGO BEFORE. SINCE THEN THE COUNTRY HAS REALIZED THAT THERE IS A FORTUNE TO BE GAINED THRU TOURISM IT IS VERY DIFFERENT TODAY. IN ANY CASE I WAS UNDER SUSPICION.
IT WAS ON A SATURDAY MORNING THAT I WAS AWAKENED BY A KNOCK ON THE DOOR. I WAS BARELY AWAKE BUT STUMBLED TO THE WINDOW TO SEE THE POLICE WALKING BACK TO THEIR JEEP THINKING THERE WAS NO ONE HOME. I WENT TO THE DOOR AND CALLED THEM BACK. " BUENAS DIAS SENOR ", ONE OF THEM SAID, "BUENAS DIAS", I REPLIED. THEY ASKED IF THEY COULD COME IN AND I, FEELING TOTALLY INNOCENT OF ANY WRONG DOING INVITED THEM IN. MY MISTAKE . NOW I SEE HOW INCRIMINATING THINGS CAN APPEAR. THEY SAW VARIOUS MAPS ON THE WALLS. THEY SAW THE TRANSMITTER THAT WAS NOT QUITE IN OPERATION YET AND TO BE USED TO COMMUNICATE WITH MY PARTNER ON OSA PENINSULA WHERE WE WERE ENGAGED IN GOLD EXPLORATION IN THE RIVERS AND STREAMS. THEY SAW KHAKI CLOTHES HANGING ON HOOKS ON THE WALLS. THEY CHECK UNDER MY PILLOW AND FOUND MY HANDGUN. THEY TOOK A BOARD OFF THE WALL THAT APPEARD LOOSE BUT FOUND NOTHING. THEY FELT THAT THIS WAS ENOUGH EVIDENCE TO CALL THEIR SUPERIOR. TWO OF THEM GOT INTO THE JEEP AND DROVE TO SAN JOSE. I SAT WITH ONE OF THE (I WILL CALL THEM SOLDIERS SINCE THEY DID NOT LOOK LIKE POLICE) AND WE TALKED AMICABLY. IN ABOUT HALF AN HOUR THE JEEP RETURNED WITH THE SUPERIOR OFFICER. HE TOOK A QUICK LOOK AND ASKED ME FOR MY PASSPORT. DISASTER!!!! MY ATTORNEY HAD MY PASSPORT SINCE HE WAS APPLYING FOR MY RESIDENCY PERMIT. THAT WAS ENOUGH TO HAUL MY TRANSMITER, GUN MAPS ETC. AS WELL AS MYSELF BACK TO SAN JOSE WHERE I WAS PUT INTO A CELL AFTER THEY HAD TAKEN MY WALLET , WATCH, MONEY ETC. AND SAID EVERYTHING WOULD BE RETURNED AS SOON AS THIS MATTER WAS CLEARED UP. THEY ALLOWED ME ONE PHONE CALL. I CALLED SENOR FRANSICO FONT AN ELDERLY BUSINESS MAN, MY FRIEND AND THE FATHER-IN-LAW MY FRIEND ALVARO. HE WAS AT THE JAIL IN FIFTEEN MINUTES AND WE SPOKE THRU A SMALL HOLE IN THE MASSIVE WOODEN DOORS. ALL WE COULD SEE WAS EYE TO EYE. I TOLD HIM ABOUT MY PASSPORT AND THAT MY ATTORNEY, CARLOS JOSE GUITIEREZ GUITIEREZ HAD IT. HOWEVER IT WAS SATURDAY AND THE CHANCE THAT MY ATTORNEY WAS NOT IN TOWN. NOTHING HAPPENED FOR THE FOLLOWING FOUR HOURS. THE SOLDIERS DECIDED THAT WAS ENOUGH TIME. THEY GAVE ME BACK MY VALUABLES, PUT ME IN A JEEP AND HEADED FOR THE PENITENTIARY.
THE PENITENTIARY WAS A LARGE FORTRESS-LIKE STRUCTURE WITH UNSCALABLE WALLS. IT STOOD ALONE ON A SMALL RISE JUST OUTSIDE OF SAN JOSE THERE WERE FOUR GUN TURRETS IN EACH OF THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE FORTRESS. IT APPEARED TO BE MADE OUT OF BROWN SANDSTONE. THEY BROUGHT ME IN AND CHECKED ME OUT AT THE DESK. AFTER SOME DISSCUSION AMONG THEMSELVES THEY MARCHED MY THRU ONE IRON GATE, THRU A HALLWAY AND THRU ANOTHER SET OF MASSIVE IRON DOORS. IN THIS CASE THEY LET ME KEEP ALL MY VALUABLES KNOWING FULL WELL THAT IT WOULD STOLEN BY MORNING. WHEN THE MASSIVE IRON GATES SLAMMED SHUT BEHIND ME A THOUSAND EYES LOOKED AT ME TO SEE WHO THE NEW PRISONER WAS. I WAS WELL DRESSED COMPARATIVELY SPEAKING. THERE WERE PRISONERS IN RAGS. THEY SLEPT ON THE STONE FLOORS SOME ON FLATTENED CARDBOARD BOXES. THE PLACE WAS A VERY LARGE DUNGEON-LIKE ARENA AND FOR PRIVACY BETWEEN THE VARIOUS PRISONERS BLAKETS OR SHEETS WERE HUNG OR WALLS OF CARBOARD FROM DISCARDED BOXES ALLOWED A CERTAIN DEGREE OF INDIVDUAL SECLUSION
I STOOD THERE LOOKING AT ALL THOSE EYES AND SOON TWO OR THREE OF THE PRISONERS SIDLED UP TO ME AND ASKED IF I HAD A CIGARET. I WAS YOUNG AND STUPID BACK THEN AND I SMOKED. I WAS LUCKY AND MADE SOME IMMEDIATE FRIENDS. I THOUGHT THAT IT WAS IMPORTANT IF I WAS GOING TO SPEND THE NIGHT. AT TEN THE LIGHT GO OUT AND IT IS VERY, VERY DARK. SO I WAS TAKEN AROUND AND INTRODUCED TO THE DIFFERENT PRISONERS. I WAS TOLD BY MY SMOKING FRIENDS NOT TO ASK WHAT THEIR CRIMES WERE. THEY INTRODUCED ME TO A PRISONER WHO WAS VERY FRIENDLEY AND IN THE COURSE OF CONVERSATION HE PULLED OUT A TWELVE INCH DAGGER THAT HE HAD FASIONED FROM A PIECE OF ANGLE IRON FROM A BED. IT WAS HIDDEN UNDER HIS MATTRESS, AND SLAPPING THE PALM OF HIS HAND WITH THE FLAT OF THE BLADE HE SAID," ESTE NOCHE ME VOY" I WISHED HIM LUCK ON HIS BREAKOUT AND LEFT TO MEET
SOMEONE ELSE
I MET THE SON OF A WEALTHY FAMILY WHO WAS IN FOR MURDER./ HE HAD HIS OWN PRIVATE CELL. IT WAS COMPLETELY WALLED IN AND ABSOLUTELY PRIVATE. THERE WAS A DOOR THAT COULD BE LOCKED. HE HAD A RADIO A COMFORTABLE BED AND APPARATUS TO MAKE COFFEE. HE HAD OTHER AMENITIES SUCH AS A TABLE THREE CHAIRS AND A SOFA AND A HOT PLATE--OH WHAT MONEY CAN BUY.
I THEN MET A COUPLE OF GAYS (FLOWERS AS THEY ARE CALLED BACK THEN). ONE SAID THAT IF I WANTED A BED THEN I SHOULD SLEEP WITH HIM. THE OTHER WARNED ME THAT IF I WERE TO SLEEP WITH THE FIRST ONE THAT I WOULD WAKE UP WITH NO SHOES. THEY WERE AT ODDS AND BOTH WANTED MY ATTENTION. MY SMOKING FRIENDS TOLD THEM TO BEAT IT IF THEY DID NOT WANT A BLOODY NOSE. I MET SEVERAL REVOLUTIONARIES AND OTHER TYPES OF POLITICAL PRISONERS. THEY WERE ALL THERE. CRIMINALS, MUDERERS, GAYS, RAPISTS. ALL IN ON HUGE ROOM. IT WAS NOW EIGHT P.M. AND I BEGAN TO BE A BIT CONCERNED ABOUT THE NIGHT AHEAD.
FORTUNATELY MY SAVIOR MR FONT, PACO FONT AS HE WAS KNOWN TO HIS FRIENDS, CAME IN AND SPOKE TO THE PEOPLE AT THE DESK. HE WAS EXTREMELY UPSET THAT SUCH A THING COULD HAPPEN TO ME. HE SAID THAT MY ATTORNEY WAS OUT OF TOWN FOR THE WEEKEND AND THAT NOTHING COULD BE DONE TILL MONDAY MORNING. HE TALKED THE GUARDS INTO TAKING OUT OF THE MAIN PRISON. THE GAURDS THEN PUT ME BETWEEN THE TWO IRON GATES APART FROM THE REST OF THE PRISONERS. I DONT THINK I CAN EVER SAY HOW RELIEVED I WAS AND FOREVER GRATEFUL TO MR FONT. HE ALSO BROUGHT ME A CUP, SPOON AND BOWL. IF YOU DID NOT HAVE SOMEONE ON THE OUTSIDE TO HELP YOU, .YOU WERE OUT OF LUCK . MY SMOKING FRIENDS WERE SAD TO SEE ME GO. I GAVE THEM THE REST OF MY CIGARETS AND THANKED THEM
SO I SLEPT ON THE SINGLE STONE BENCH IN THE HALLWAY. I REALLY DID NOT SLEEP BUT LAID THERE AND TOST AND TURNED. THE STONE BENCH WAS A BIT OF A DETRIMENT TO A GOOD NIGHTS SLEEP. ACROSS FROM THE BENCH WAS THE KITCHEN. A SEPERATE ROOM WITH A BLACKENED EARTHEN FLOOR. IT WAS LATE NOW AND THERE WAS NO ACTIVITY. AT SIX IN THE MORNING CAME IN AND STARTED A WOOD FIRE BENEATH TWO FIFTY FIVE GALLON DRUMS. THE PUT WATER IN BOTH DRUMS AND DUMPED SACKS OF RICE IN ONE AND SACKS OF BEANS IN THE OTHER. EVERYTHING IN THAT KITCHEN WAS BLACK FROM SOOT. COFFEE WAS MADE IN A SMALLER CONTAINER. AFTER TWO OR THREE HOURS I HAD MY RICE AND BEANS AND MY COFFEE. THE DRUMS WERE PLATFORMS WITH WHEELS AND WERE WHEELED IN TO THE MAIN PRISON. THE PRISONERS THEN HAD THEIR BREAKFAST IF THEY WERE LUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE A CONTAINER TO BUT THE FOOD IN. WHEN ONE INMATE WAS DONE HE LOANED HIS BOWL TO HIS FRIEND. AND SO IT WENT. THE SAME THING EVERY DAY TWICE A DAY.
I NEGLECTED TO SAY THAT BEFORE I WAS PUT BEHIND THOSE IRON DOORS I WAS BROUGHT IN TO THE OFFICE OF A HIGH RANKING OFFICIAL A SUBORDINATE BROUGHT ME IN AND THE WARDEN, GENERAL, COMMANDANT WHATEVER. AS I WALKED IN HE SAIR BUENAS DIAS SENOR, SIENTASE AS HE MOTIONED TO A CHAIR. I SAID GRACIAS AND SAT DOWN ACROSS FROM HIS DESK. THE DESK WAS NEAT AND ORDERLY AND THE WOOD WAS POLISHED TILL IT GLISTENED. HE HAD A NEATLY PRESSED BROWN UNIFORM AND THE BRASS BADGES SPARKLED. HE HAD A THIN WITE MUSTACHE AND SIMPLY OOZED AUTHORITY. HE SHOVED A MAP ACROSS THE DESK AND ASKED "ES SUYO" AND I SAID "YES IT IS MINE". HE SAID "ES MAPA MILITAR?" I SAID " NO IT IS NOT A MILITARY MAP IT IS AN EXPLORATION MAP" THERE WERE RED AND BLUE DOTS ON THE MAP AND HE WANTED TO KNOW WHAT THEY REPRESENTED. I TOLD HIM THAT THE MAP SHOWED THE WORK THAT WE WERE DOING IN OUR EXPLORATION FOR GOLD IN THE RIVER. THE RED DOTS REPRESENTED PLACES TO BE TESTED AND THE GREEN DOTS REPRESENTED THOSE PLCES ALREADY TESTED. I DONT THINK HE BELIEVED ME AND I NEVER SAW THE MAP AGAIN. HE ASKED ABOUT MY PASSPORT I TOLD HIM MY ATTORNEY HAD IT. HE ASKED ME HOW I GOT INTO THE COUNTRY. I TOLD HIM A REGULAR lACSA FLIGHT OUT OF MIAMI. WITHOUT MY PASSPORT I COULD PROVE NOTHING. HE ASKED ME IF CASTRO SENT ME HERE. I SAID NO IAM NOT A GUERRILLA IAM A GEOLOGIST. AFTER A FEW MORE QUESTIONS HE MOTIONED TO HIS SUBORDINATE TO JAIL ME
THAT SATURDAY NIGHT THERE WAS A RUCKUS. THE PRISONERS WERE BANGING THEIR CUP AND BOWLS ON ANYTHING THAT WOULD MAKE A NOISE. SUNDAY WAS ELECTION DAY FOR THE PRESIDENCY OF COSTA RICA. CALDARON GUARDIA AN X-PRESIDENT HAD BEEN IN EXILE IN MEXICO FOR THE PAST TWELVE YEARS AND SCHEDULED TO RETURN TO COSTA RICA AND RUN FOR PRESIDENT. FOR SOME REASON THE PRISONERS WERE EXCITED. AFTER THIRTY SIX HOURS OF NO SLEEP I BEGAN TO FEAR THERE WOULD BE TROUBLE IN THE STREETS. THEN I BECAME FEARFUL THERE WOULD BE A REVOLUTION AND CHAOS AND I WOULD BE LOST AND FORGOTTEN IN THIS INFESTED PRISON
HOWEVER , ALL TURNED OUT WELL. I WAS OUT MONDAY MORNING AND STOOD ON THE CORNER LOOKED UP AND LET THE SUN SHINE ON MY FACE. WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW ELATED I WAS.
THE NEXT DAY I WENT TO TO THE CANADIAN CONSULATE AND TOLD WHAT HAD HAPPENED AND WHAT CAN WE DO. HE SAID DO NOTHING CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY. AND THAT WAS THAT.

BATHROOM TALK CONTINUED

ONE DAY, YEARS AGO, WHILE IN COSTA RICA I HAD A BOWL MOVEMENT.
I HAD THE URGE TO LOOK IN THE TOILET BOWL AND SAW, MIXED IN WITH THE EXCREMENT, A ROUND WORM ABOUT THE DIAMETER OF A PENCIL AND ABOUT AS LONG. IT WRIGGLED AMIDST THE EXCREMENT. SHUDDERED TO THINK THAT THIS THING WAS LIVING INSIDE OF ME. DOWN THE SEWER IT WENT. SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY I PICKED IT UP IN ITS INFANCY PROBABLY FROM SOME UNSANITARY AND ILL PREPARED FOOD. I TRY NOT TO LOOK TOO CLOSELY INTO KITCHENS OF VARIOUS RESTAURANTS THAT I MIGHT HAPPEN TO EAT IN. I DETERMINED THAT THE WORM WAS DRUNK AND FURTHERMORE HAD NO FOOD TO EAT FOR ABOUT TWO DAYS AS ALVARO, A FRIEND AND I,SPENT THE WEEKEND WITH HEAVY DRINKING AND ALMOST NO FOOD. MY MOTHER WAS RIGHT. CHECK THE TOILET BOWL FROM TIME TO TIME YOU MIGHT BE SURPRISED.
MORE RECENTLY I STOPPED TO EAT IN A RESTAURANT IN A SMALL TOWN IN COSTA RICA. I SELECTED LASAGNA FROM THE MENU. AFTER EATING ABOUT THREE QUARTERS OF THE PLATE I NOTICED SOMETHING WRIGGLING IN THE CORNER OF THE REMAINING PIECE. UPON INVESTIGATING I FOUND IT WAS A COCKROACH. I PUSED IT ASIDE AND FINISHED EATING. THEN I WONDERED HOW MANY I MAY HAVE EATEN EARLIER AND WAS NOT AWARE OF IT. THE LASAGNA WENT THRU THE MICRO WAVE AND ARRIVED AT MY TABLE PIPING HOT. I MUST SAY THE COCKROACH IS A TENACIOUS LITTLE BASTARD

MISCELLANEOUS

When I was a child we had milk and bread delivery to our home. It was brought in by a milkman and a breadman with a horse drawn cart. Of course as the horses plodded down the street they would, at times, drop a pile of manure here and there. When this happened it was up to me to grab the shovel and pail and scrape it up. I then mixed it with soil in the garden in back. It made an excellent fertilizer.
Speaking of manure, poop, dung, excrement, shit, crap or whatever you want to call it. Brings this to mind. When I had the little shop in Copper Harbor. Mich. a way up on the Keeweenaw Peninsula jutting out into the cold waters of Lake Superior, I would have to blow the water lines at the end of the fall season. The shop would be shut down for the winter season and everything in it would freeze. Years ago I came back to Copper Harbor for two weeks in January. I had power and kept two small heaters going in one small room. I would have to walk about three blocks to the home of my brother-in-law to use his bathroom. This procedure went well until one day I had to go badly. It was a matter of going here in my place or in my pants. I elected to go into my work shop in back. I spread some newspapers on the floor and squated. It was a rather soft and runny bowl movement. It spread flat and round like a dish. The temperature was about five below zero and the wind was howling. When I was done I went back into my one warm room. When I say warm I wore my parka all the time.
After about two hours I went to the back and found the crap which was frozen solid. I peeled off the newspaper (using my garden gloves) went outside and like a Greek discus thrower or a frizzbee player threw it into the snowy woods. It sailed beautifully and hit the trunk of a pine tree and shattered into a thousand pieces.

EPILOGUE TO THE CHICKEN

ONE DAY WHILE I WAS HOLDING THE CHICKENS HEAD AND PULLING ON IT. MY MOTHER MADE A SPECIALLY GOOD CUT ACROSS THE NECK. THE KNIFE ( WHO NEEDS THE K) MADE A NEAT CUT BETWEEN THE NECK JOINTS AND THE HEAD CAME OFF IN MY HAND. THE CHICKEN KICKED AND MY MOTHER LOST HER GRIP AND THE CHICKEN WITHOUT A HEAD WENT JUMPING AROUND THE KITCHEN FLOOR WITH THE WINGS FLAPPING WILDLY AND BLOOD FLYING ALL OVER THE PLACE. WHAT A MESS. I HAD TO CLEAN IT UP.

What not to do

My father was a smoker. He smoked all his life and finally got lung cancer and throat cancer. He had to have his voice box removed and breathed thru a hole in his throat. He had a miserable painful last two years of his life. As a child I used to watch him as he rolled his own cigaretts. His fingers were quite adept. I tried and failed miserably. It takes a bit of practise. He had a friend who smoked a pipe. They would talk in the kichen and smoke. The room was full of tobaco smoke. Its a wonder we did not all get lung cancer.. Back then there was not too much known regarding cigaretts and lung cancer
The six of us lived in a small house with two bedrooms. Before we moved I slept with my father in a double bed and my brother Frank slept in a double with my mother. There was very little space in that bedroom. When we went to sleep my father wound up the alarm clock and I remember falling asleep to the tic toc of the clock. And to this day the tic toc of the clock will put me to sleep. The tic toc will drive some people crazy. There was a family living upstairs and sometimes there was a lot of yelling and banging and my mother would take the broom and beat the ceiling in an effort to quiet them down.
There was a large house next door with several room to rent on the first floor. After a while the first floor was converted to a pool room with two tables and card gambling in the back. They got raided by the local police. Some arrests were made and the owner fined. It was then converted to a church a small sect of some kind. I was always awakened on Sunday morning by the singing of hyms. This did not bother me.
Next door, on the other side, lived on of my best friends. He had an older brother and an older sister. Their father was a tyrant and would beat them when things did not go his way. I could hear a lot of yelling screaming and crying many times. My friends name was Stan, his brtother was Alex and his sister was Lillian. Alex got into the wrong crowd and stole a car , was arrested and jailed. His sister Lillian got pregnant at about 17 and was kicked out of the house. I never found out what eventualy happened with those two. Stan was lucky. He and a couple of other friends who lived two houses down were my best friends and we were busy all summer long. There was a confectionary store on the corner just down the road run bt two old sisters. We often stopped there when we had some change got an ice cream cone 3 cents for one dip and 5 cents for a double. The sisters and the store are long gone.
Lester was on of the brothers of my friend. He was 5 years older than I and had undergone numerous operation on his hip to repair damage due to an accident and was on crutches for many years. He always walked with a severe limp. One cold winter night while he was still on crutches we broke into the back of a hardware store and we were able to steal an electric motor. It was priced about $50.00. Lester new a fence and we managed to sell it for $10.00. Five dollars a piece. We also stole a can of flat fifties ( a flat can with 50 cigaretts) from a confectionary store whle the clerks back was turned. That is when I started to smoke at about age 16. I felt big and important. I feel pretty stupid now. The teen across the street also stole a car and was jailed. I manged to avoid any serious trouble with the police. I participated in a few other nasty things. When we moved away and after I graduated from vocational school my friends and I drifted apart. I started going to collage and saw very little of my boyhood friends after that.

My father and mother met in Windsor, Ontario and married there. The first born was a brother I believe his name was also Stefan but he died very young from phuemonia I was told. My sister Annie was born next followed by ny sister Helen. I came next and then my brother Frank was born four years later. When I was 18 we moved a few blocks away to a slightly larger house with three bedrooms. That was the year 1950. I recall that year clearly because a newscaster on the radio stated "we are now in the middle of the century" and this was followed by a jingle sung by Dina Shore " I drove my Chevrolet in the U.S.A. "
While living on Marion Street from age four or five to eighteen my friends and I did the usual things kids do while growing up. We played baseball, soccer, hockey, climbing trees in the park, snowball fights in the winter and building snowmen. When the season was right and the pears were juicy on the tree of a neighbour a few houses down we were up there picking without permission. We did not bother asking because he was a grouchy old man and not liked by the kids in the neighbourhood. Once he caught us in the act of stealing his precious pears and he came running out of his house yelling at us. We half climbed and half fell out of the tree and hit the ground in terror. We tore thru the gate and ran down the alley with him running and cursing after us. Rocks flew past our heads and bounced on the concrete. We got away unscathed and never went back. Fun times in retrospect.
We played a lot in the streets. The cars parked on both sides limited the playing of baseball somewhat. There was the occassional broken window or dented hood. Of course we were long gone befor the owner found out. One day I ran out from between two parked cars without stopping to look and was hit. I do not remember much but my mother said she came out screaming as I lay on the pavement with blood coming from my ears. I spent some time in the hospital but I guess I came out OK.

Back a Few Years

My father emigrated from Poland about the same time as my mother. He was 20 years old. He landed in Montreal and worked at menial jobs until he went to Sudbury, Ontario where he worked under ground at the Stobie mine for International Nickel company. Ironically 40 years later after I graduated for Wayne State University in Detroit Michigan with a Bachelor of Science degree in Geology I worked for a while in that very same mine. I was married and had two boys at that time--Steve and Kevin. Sudury, in those days was, a dismal mining town. The smelter spewed sulphur fumes from its smoke stack and, depending on the direction of the wind the fumes caused your eyes to smart. The sulphur laden air killed and stunted the trees and shrubs in the area and blackened the surrounding rocks. A few years ago the company built a new smoke stack which, I believe, is the tallest smoke stack in north america. The sulphur smoke is now much disseminated and lands someplace far to the east and is far less potent.

growing up

At about age 8 I remember going with my mother on a Saturday morning to the A and P super market. This supermarket originated well over 100 years ago as the Grear Atlantic and Pacific Tea company bringing boat loads of tea from the orient to Britton. This was near the tail end of world war two and many things were difficuly to come by. I remember opening the door of the super market and was suddenly engulfed in the sweet aroma of fresh bananas. This left an indelable mark in my memory. I have never smelt such a wonderful aroma of bananas since. It was rare for us to have such fruit in those times . Every Saturday morning I would go, sometimes with my father , if he was not working on Saturday or with my mother to the farmers market in downtown Windsor. We always went by bus since the family did not have a car until I bot a 1929 Ford jalopy after graduating from high school I learned by driving up and down the alley way. To day allies do not exist in newly developing neighborhoods. My father never had a car but rode his bicycle to work and back. In the winter time he took a bus. We bot fresh friuts, vegetables and meats at the farmers market. We almost always bot a live chiken and my mother made chiken soup every Sunday. We brought the chiken home and it my duty to help my mother with it. I did this by grabbing the chiken by the head and streching the neck as far as I could and with a sawing action of the kichen knife my mother severed the neck. The chiken kicked and scratched for a few seconds . and my mother would quickley put the bleeding chicken into a pot. Sometimes I would have to wipe some blood off the table and floor. Then she put the chicken into pot of boiling water along with some onios, celery. carrots, parsley, salt and pepper and other condiments that I do not recall. My sisters, both older than me thought this was horrific and stayed far away while this was going on. My father did not care for this procedure and he stayed as far away as possible. It became soley my responsibility. After boiling in the pot for a time my mother removed it and we proceded to pull the feathers. With that chore over she split the chiken down the breastbone and removed the entrales. She removed the stomache and peel.ed off the iner lining . This was very tastey when cooked. The heart also was very good when cooked. Sometimes we would find two or three yokes inside the chiken and they were boiled also. I found it all decious. I would make a chiken sandwich using mostley the dark meat and lots of skin with a good dose of salt, pepper and catchup-----wonderful.

history from womb to 5

To the best of my knowledge my mother had a sister and they lived with their parents in a small village in the country of Ukarain. My mother once told me that her father had a little store there and sold vegetables and meats. her father had saved some money and in the way of those years wanted her to go to the "new world" so at the age of 15 she left her little village and disembarked from a steamer full of immigrants in about 1917. She landed in Montreal and took a job in a restaurant washing dishes i think. She never saw her family again. All communication was lost for 40 years. By chance she sent a letter,following two world wars,to her sister and amazingley got a letter in return. At last they could write each other. While working in the restaurant the unsanitary conditions turned her off from eating in reataurants for years to come. Growing up I cannot recall ever eating out. She bought her own food and cooked for us. We moved from the house where I was born when I was about five. I have very little recollection of the years befor 5 We moved to 1123 marion street, a few blocks away and lived there till I was 18 So it was at this address and the friends around that made up my formative years, good and bad.

birth-un-eventfull

I was born in a duplex in a poor area of the city of Windsor, Ont., Can.in 1933 in the middle of the depression. My father worked for the Ford Motor co.. There were many strikes in those days and money was hard to come by. We lived poorly and had old worn out clothes and shoes, but what did we know in those days around 8 and 10 yrs old we had no standards to measure by and so we had fun. But lets go back a few years.