The journalist finished the interview and the Warden was happy. The article would appear in our metropolitan paper later in the week. I made arrangements to visit her farm. Once that was done, I would let the warden know what I thought we could do to get the manure for our garden. We said our goodbyes, and I informed her I would meet up with her later in the week. I also informed the warden that I needed to get back to the school. I had an idea of someone who I thought might be able to help me out with this project and I needed to run my ideas by him. He would need to get permission from his supervisor to help me, and we would have to look at the barn later in the week to see what was feasible. The warden let me know he trust my judgement and would support what ever I decided to do. I knew I would need equipment. I just didn’t know the logistics. That would have to be decided after I spoke with the person I thought could help me.
That person had a lot of experience with the kind of logistics I would need to maneuver and operate the heavy equipment I would be requesting to use. I also considered him my mentor in the DOC. He had never failed to give me good advice, and I appreciated his honesty. I had what psychologists’ called a “type A personality” and he was the complete opposite, “type B.” This defined our working relationship for the next 20 some years in the DOC. We had some very interesting experiences working together and I appreciated his mentoring. When I mentioned to him what I was planning on doing he laughed. I explained that we would have to view the property first, but that if we could get this manure it would be great for the prison garden. At the same time we would be making a citizen of the immediate community happy as well. He left it up to me to make the arrangements to visit the property and he believed his supervisor would not have a problem approving his help with this project.
The arrangements to visit the property were made and I couldn’t wait. When we arrived on the property there were a couple of horses in the pasture who couldn’t run up to us quick enough for what they probably thought was a meal. I patted their snouts and seeing I had nothing to feed them ran back to the pasture to feed. The barn was tilted to one side and looked as if a strong wind could blow it over. It was old. The barn wood was all weathered and in some areas the sunlight shown through the deteriorating wood illuminating what would be our work area. The opening to the barn was large enough for our tractor but not the dump truck. We would have to excavate and then shovel the manure into the truck. A two step process. My concern was the risk and I knew I had to find a way to minimize that calculus. My helper was all in. He had taken a shovel and determined that in some places there was more than three feet of compacted manure. This was a gardens gold mine. He believed he would not have a problem excavating the manure. He would fill the dump truck and I would take it back to the prison to be dumped in our garden. “The easy part,” He said. To Be Continued….
Psalms 103
MJ-Way 