The Unhealthiness of County Jail
By Angelique Holmes
I felt bad. Really bad. My heart was struggling. It felt as if it was under attack. As if my body was rejecting my heart. The pain was indescribable. I was sure that if you looked at my face and movements, it would seem as if my whole chest was caving in on me. My chest was screaming in pain, and I was sure that it was coming through my mouth. I was having a heart attack.
I was bored. My work seemed to be done for the day. All I wanted to do was get in my car and go home. I didn’t have the same passion and dedication as my grandmother, who owned the store. She was invested in Giant Eagle. It had been a part of her since she started as a cashier when she was young. Giant Eagle is what she breathed and lived. It was a part of her very soul. She lived for this store. She started from nothing and made something of herself. She built her own legacy.
My grandmother has involved the family members in the business as well. My grandfather was a part-time worker and my mother was a full-time accountant. My uncle, on the other hand, was semi full-time manager. When he was not in jail, he was working full time. I never had the opportunity to fully build a relationship with him, and he had never in turn had the chance to build a relationship with his daughter, who lived in New York. Every time she came into town, he was downtown in the county jail.
Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe. Swimming was my passion. I’ve been swimming since I was little. My grandparents, whom I live with in New York, have a pool in their backyard. Swimming and going to Pittsburgh were the two constants in my life. Going to Pittsburgh was nothing but an opportunity to get gifts and money from my father’s family. I don’t really understand what it was, but whenever I asked for something down there, I usually received it. I’d gotten so used to it, that I expected them to give me what I asked for, and I would have been surprised if they said “no.” It was completely different down there than it was here. When I was home in New York, I had to follow rules, and I rarely got new things, and I ’was constantly getting in trouble for my brother’s doings. In Pittsburgh, I always got what I wanted. I wasnever in trouble because my cousin always took the blame for me, even though she never wanted to. I sometimes made the situations between her and me seem worse than they really were by complaining. This kept me from having a real relationship with her.
I was also held back from having a real relationship with my father. I’ve never really cared for him in the first place, and he was most likely in jail whenever I came. My grandmother always tried to tell me that he was simply out of town. I knew better. When he was out of jail when I was in town, he would try to spoil me. He would try to take me out, but I would make him bring my cousin. She was always so upset when I did that. But he would buy me anything I requested. One summer I made him go to the store three times and get me different mp3 players until he got the one I liked.
It was a shame how it was in Pittsburgh. It wasn’t just my father, but the rest of the family, too. They would always chastise my cousin when they got the
impression that she wasn’t being as polite as she should’ve been. But deep down I knew that I was wrong for trying to keep up a front. I knew that none of my cousins liked me. The adults were fooled, but I tried to keep my distance from everyone there. I made up lies about not feeling well or being claustrophobic when it came to family events, though I did respect my grandmother to a certain extent and wanted to please her. It was a shame that I couldn’t say the same for everyone else.
I was in the front office going over the books. The woman I had hired for this job had fallen through. I was stressed out. Owning my own business had proven to be hard and stressful. I was putting in at least seventy hours a week, and I felt as if my employees were not as dedicated as I was. I needed workers who were motivated to do the job correctly. I needed my family here. My daughter moved and was only helping out a few days a month. My husband only worked nights twice a week, and my son had been in the county jail for almost a full year.
“You are receiving a call from the county jail from Marcel. Do you choose to accept?”
“Mom, I just got back from the hospital. I had a heart attack for the second time.”
I did not know what to say. My grandmother was bawling her eyes out and gathering her things. The only things I understood coming from her mouth were that my uncle had a heart attack two weeks ago and she just found out. I did not understand how she could have just found out about Marcel having a heart attack if it happened two weeks ago. I thought that she would be informed the second he was rushed to the hospital, not two weeks later when he was back in his cell.
It was that day that I realized how much my grandmother truly cared about her son
being in the county jail. Everyone had just gotten so used to him being in and out, that it was not even surprising when he would inform us that he was going
back. But that day I realized just how much my grandmother was hurting not to have her son close by. I truly understood my grandmother’s pain.
I was bored. My work seemed to be done for the day. All I wanted to do was get in my car and go home. I didn’t have the same passion and dedication as my grandmother, who owned the store. She was invested in Giant Eagle. It had been a part of her since she started as a cashier when she was young. Giant Eagle is what she breathed and lived. It was a part of her very soul. She lived for this store. She started from nothing and made something of herself. She built her own legacy.
My grandmother has involved the family members in the business as well. My grandfather was a part-time worker and my mother was a full-time accountant. My uncle, on the other hand, was semi full-time manager. When he was not in jail, he was working full time. I never had the opportunity to fully build a relationship with him, and he had never in turn had the chance to build a relationship with his daughter, who lived in New York. Every time she came into town, he was downtown in the county jail.
Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe. Swimming was my passion. I’ve been swimming since I was little. My grandparents, whom I live with in New York, have a pool in their backyard. Swimming and going to Pittsburgh were the two constants in my life. Going to Pittsburgh was nothing but an opportunity to get gifts and money from my father’s family. I don’t really understand what it was, but whenever I asked for something down there, I usually received it. I’d gotten so used to it, that I expected them to give me what I asked for, and I would have been surprised if they said “no.” It was completely different down there than it was here. When I was home in New York, I had to follow rules, and I rarely got new things, and I ’was constantly getting in trouble for my brother’s doings. In Pittsburgh, I always got what I wanted. I wasnever in trouble because my cousin always took the blame for me, even though she never wanted to. I sometimes made the situations between her and me seem worse than they really were by complaining. This kept me from having a real relationship with her.
I was also held back from having a real relationship with my father. I’ve never really cared for him in the first place, and he was most likely in jail whenever I came. My grandmother always tried to tell me that he was simply out of town. I knew better. When he was out of jail when I was in town, he would try to spoil me. He would try to take me out, but I would make him bring my cousin. She was always so upset when I did that. But he would buy me anything I requested. One summer I made him go to the store three times and get me different mp3 players until he got the one I liked.
It was a shame how it was in Pittsburgh. It wasn’t just my father, but the rest of the family, too. They would always chastise my cousin when they got the
impression that she wasn’t being as polite as she should’ve been. But deep down I knew that I was wrong for trying to keep up a front. I knew that none of my cousins liked me. The adults were fooled, but I tried to keep my distance from everyone there. I made up lies about not feeling well or being claustrophobic when it came to family events, though I did respect my grandmother to a certain extent and wanted to please her. It was a shame that I couldn’t say the same for everyone else.
I was in the front office going over the books. The woman I had hired for this job had fallen through. I was stressed out. Owning my own business had proven to be hard and stressful. I was putting in at least seventy hours a week, and I felt as if my employees were not as dedicated as I was. I needed workers who were motivated to do the job correctly. I needed my family here. My daughter moved and was only helping out a few days a month. My husband only worked nights twice a week, and my son had been in the county jail for almost a full year.
“You are receiving a call from the county jail from Marcel. Do you choose to accept?”
“Mom, I just got back from the hospital. I had a heart attack for the second time.”
I did not know what to say. My grandmother was bawling her eyes out and gathering her things. The only things I understood coming from her mouth were that my uncle had a heart attack two weeks ago and she just found out. I did not understand how she could have just found out about Marcel having a heart attack if it happened two weeks ago. I thought that she would be informed the second he was rushed to the hospital, not two weeks later when he was back in his cell.
It was that day that I realized how much my grandmother truly cared about her son
being in the county jail. Everyone had just gotten so used to him being in and out, that it was not even surprising when he would inform us that he was going
back. But that day I realized just how much my grandmother was hurting not to have her son close by. I truly understood my grandmother’s pain.
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