Miss Dairy Queen's day at the prison

I was one of the first at the prison in Somerset, Pa., last weekend, having been alerted that I should come early to beat the crowd bussed in from Philadelphia and avoid a long stay in the waiting room. But early as I was, there were two in line ahead of me, a young woman of about 17, and a 50ish woman accompanying her. The middle-aged CO (correctional officer) processing them was joking with the teenager about the local Dairy Queen where she worked, asking if she had the clout to restore his favorite meal to the $5 menu. I noted the interaction because my experience is that COs are not usually so affable with the public. Did he know her?

The young man I was here to visit (age 32, we’ll call him “T”) introduced me to another man in a jumpsuit with the prominent letters “D.O.C” on the back, as we found ourselves at the same time in the vicinity of the vending machines. (Inmates are not allowed to use the machines, but they may stand on the other side of the line awaiting their visitors.) Erik was trim, polite, and courteous, and we shook hands and moved to our respective areas.

I had a clear line of vision to Erik throughout the day and noticed he was sitting at the table with the Dairy Queen girl and the older woman. T told me that Erik is a lifer. He was locked up at age 14 and will never leave that prison facility till they take him out in a body bag. At some point in the past he “gave his time back” (prison term I’m not clear on) and went home for six months, which was when the Dairy Queen girl was conceived. The young girl has been visiting the Somerset prison faithfully since she was a baby.

I observed Erik’s relationship with his daughter in the course of the long day in which we shared a huge cinderblock room. I tabulated the evidence: She is first in line at the prison, though she has been coming all her life; she spends the entire day and doesn’t bug out early; she interacts lovingly and naturally with her father. I thought about the reputation teenagers have for rebellion—teenagers with lots less to complain about than she could come up with.

A Christian counselor friend once told me that the main thing she learned in counseling class is that the heart is active, not passive. The most crucial matter is not the bad things that have happened to us but the way we respond to them. This we have freedom over.

Little did Miss Dairy Queen, smiling at Dad and Grandma while playing cards, know how she edified a woman in her 60s sitting yards away by her choice of life and love.