Most of you knew him as the Old Dude. Don’t look so surprised, he knew what you called him, how you laughed at him sometimes, pitied him at others. There wasn’t much he didn’t know, but he refused to humiliate others by revealing their secrets or having more knowledge than they did. That’s the way he was. And here’s one of the secrets he kept from you: not a single one of you would be here today were it not for him.
Oh, you might exist without him, but you wouldn’t be here, in this place, safe and healthy and even on occasion happy. He never wanted credit for what he did, but now he’s gone I’m going to do what he asked me never to do: tell the story of the man you are burying today, the story of Jude Elihu Lazarus.
That wasn’t his real name. Not even he knew his real name; for as long as he could remember he only had a number. It was 108329877. The reason, as you’ve guessed, was that he grew up in the great American prison system. I have only been able to piece together bits of his early life and can’t even tell you his parents’ names; he never knew them himself. From the age of four he was in “The System,” which some of you might have experienced yourselves: the social workers, teachers, guardians, warders, cops, juvenile officers, judges, psychologists, foster parents, and clergy who with such terrible kindness and authority tear a child’s soul apart and attempt to mold it into some image of their own.
Some children, as you all know, resist this castration of their souls. That’s a strong word, and I choose it deliberately, because that’s what it is: whether boy or girl child, it’s involuntary surgical removal of individuality. Child number 108329877 was one who resisted. Never with violence, he was clever enough to see that violence was what they expected of him, and he learned early always to do the opposite of what the System expected of him. He also learned early on something that served him well his entire prison life, which was to conceal at all costs his knowledge and intelligence from both his fellow inmates and from the wardens, guards, and judges who had total power over him.
“Power makes fools of those who wield it,” he used to say, “and there’s nothing more vicious than the fool’s resentment of intelligence in others. Because no matter how much power he has, wisdom is the one thing a fool can’t take from you.”
The other side of that coin is that Number 108329877 became exceedingly skilled at looking like a typical, downtrodden, ignorant inmate. That way you don’t attract attention, and in prison any attention at all has negative consequences. So the old guy you thought was just a doddering collection of senior moments was actually putting a big one over on you. That’s okay, it’s the way he wanted it. The fact that you were here and free to laugh at him gave him a joy you’ll probably never know. The joy of a hopeless dream come true.
He was 19 or 20 or thereabouts the first time I heard it. “What if there was a place where no one had power over any other?” he would ask, urging the zombies to think about it. “What if there was a place where life meant more than things?
What if… ?”
He never got answers.
Then came the earthquake, tsunami, fire, flood, the total breakdown, including prison walls.В He saved everyone in that pod, guards, staff, inmates, all of them, and then walked away in the dark.
In the confusion I walked away, too. During the years of chaos that followed I heard nothing of him. I was busy trying to put my own life together somehow, always looking for something or someone I never found. Then I picked up a rumor, and remembered. I followed the rumors & clues & found this place, and found Number 108329877. Only now he was Lazarus – Jude Elihu Lazarus. He had put together all the elements of his dream, and you are the result, all of you.
How did it start? Not in a way even I could’ve imagined. It turned out that not only did he hide his intelligence all those years, but also his wealth. Yeah, wealth, a concept no longer needed here, but vital in that old sad time. I knew nothing about it until he told me recently, near the end. It wasn’t anything he was proud of, just thought it was a huge joke. During our prison years, he had put together a cookbook. Yeah, a friggin’ cookbook. It was “recipes” for all the godawful things prisoners concocted from whatever they could get, usually outdated, toxic junk food from commissary or vending machines: candy, chips, jerky, ramen noodles, that kind of stuff, with an occasional rat or pigeon and one glorious goose that snared itself in the razor wire.
He called the recipes “Mastering the Art of Prison Cooking,” and sent it out to an editor at Playboy or somewhere like that, he couldn’t even remember. Whoever it was took it and ran with it, got it published – under a pseudonym, of course, which just happened to be Jude Elihu. And it became a best-seller, sales off the charts, the talk of tv anchors and tabloids for months, all royalties carefully stashed as cash by that rare editor. So when Number 108329877 walked away, he had only to walk to one of the stashes for money enough to buy land, which in those days was going cheap.
In the beginning, he looked for a place with healthy owls. That’s what he told me – owls are at the top of the food chain, and if they are healthy their territory is healthy. Then he just planted his rumors, started the word: there’s a place if you need it, especially if you’re alone in the world; he never intended to be a pied piper, luring kids away from families. But the world had collapsed so far that many kids had no one; it was those – you, in fact — that he reached for. You are grown up now, and his dream grew with you, evolving as all of us must in response to changing climate and community. What he never imagined was how all of you bloomed, showing ever-expanding resourcefulness and wisdom and ingenuity in a place free of judgment and control.
He knew better than to expect much at first. “If you can’t be good, be kind,” he told you when you arrived, and then was amazed at the result. He never tired of watching and admiring you and your children, in all your varied glory, delighting equally over a math prodigy, astronomer, musician, physics wizard, poet, mechanic, storyteller, or teacher.
“Is it something in the water?” he asked me once, half seriously. “Some little mutation that erased crime and increased their brain capacity twenty percent?”
“No,” I’d tell him, half joking. “It’s just you, and your damn owls.”
We are his legacy. May we preserve what he began! We are now aliens in our own country, as we all know. He urged us to make expeditions, to go out there and hide among the the yahoos, wearing whatever’s in, learning the new slang, pretending. But we don’t belong. It’s important that we go out there once in a while, to make sure, to see if they’ve changed, but my own experience is that every time I go, it looks worse and home looks better.
And so, in his honor, in memory of Number 108329877 and Jude Elihu Lazarus, and in hopes you will never need or find the ingredients, here is a recipe from the long out of print “Mastering the Art of Prison Cooking.”
From: Mastering the Art of Prison Cooking, by Jude Elihu:
How to Make Spreads
Here in prison, we are, of course, extremely limited to specific, security-friendly items and commodities.В This has caused generations of convicts to devise unique ways to create things that simulate what would normally be available in the free world.В Such things range from home-made lighters and shaving cream to tattoo guns and icecream.В Here I am going to tell you about spreads.
Spreads come in many varieties.В There are icecream spreads, candy spreads, soup spreads, and medley spreads.В The most common is a noodle spread.В It can be made many different ways and most resembles a casserole in comparison with any other ordinary dish.
The first step is to order the ingredients.В These vary so vastly that I will stick with the most basic ones.В I order from the canteen a collection of meat, cheese, Ramen soups, chips, beans, peppers, and any other items I can afford at the moment.В Some items can be substituted easily, such as crackers for chips, or dill pickles for peppers.В The flavors of Ramen vary and it is sometimes fun to mix and match, but in the end, the flavoring becomes little more than saltiness.В As should be noted, all items are non-perishable in this situation.
When I have the ingredients together, I make sure there is a supply of hot water handy.В Then I begin by breaking up the pre-cooked, hardened noodles, usually by smacking them against the floor while they are still in the package.В For some reason this is very satisfying.В The broken noodles provide for smaller pieces, which makes for easier bites.В The noodles are then emptied into a bowl or Tupperware container, or if all else fails, a plastic or foil food wrapper.В Choose something large enough to account for the rest of the ingredients.
There are many types of meat that can be used, but I have found that pre-cooked meats with spices added to them, such as pepperoni meat sticks, are the best. Other kinds of meats, like sliced roast beef, chicken, or turkey, don’t give the dish as much flavor. I chop the meat into small pieces, close to dice-sized. The meat is added to the dry noodles along with pre-cooked beans and rice: for every package of Ramen, an ounce and a half of meat and three-quarters cup beans and rice. The amount need not be exact. Personal preference should always be the guiding factor when considering amounts. Some people may prefer to exclude certain ingredients altogether, such as a vegetarian skipping the meat.
The hot water is now added to the bowl.В This should be hot, but not too hot, about the temperature for making tea or coffee.В Even tap water can work if it is hot enough.В Add enough hot water to submerge all the ingredients completely and stir well.
While the noodles cook, the vegetables are chopped.В Again, the variety and amount are according to personal preference.В I suggest a couple of pickled jalapeГ±os or something similar with a lot of flavor.В Things like carrots or peas are not ideal for this dish.
The noodles are cooked until soft.В By then all the other ingredients will also be ready.В Then most of the water is drained . Since I usually eyeball the amount of water left, I can only suggest you leave the contents somewhat soggy, like freshly-strained macaroni noodles.
The only cheese available to us is the “spreadable” processed variety, much like the jalapeño cheese dip sold for chips. This cheese is ideal, given no choice, but many may desire a healthier pick, even melting down a piece of a block variety. Whatever the choice, the cheese needs to be as liquid as possible so as to mix in thoroughly. The more flavorful the cheese, the better.
I add to the bowl the cheese, vegetables, and then the seasoning packets from the Ramen soups.В Any kind of seasoning is suitable, just not an overwhelming amount.В The contents must be stirred until well mixed.В If too much water has been removed and the mixture seems dry, add more water until it is very moist.
Lastly, add the chips, or crackers, depending on availability and your preference.В I recommend a flavored corn chip such as Doritos.В Crush an amount of these roughly equal to a quarter of the spread already mixed, and add them to the bowl.В Mix them in well.В The extra water that remained in the spread will be absorbed by the chips.
Your spread is done at this point.В It is a creative dish, though, so things like hot sauce, raisins, or even honey can be added to change the style or flavor.В It is a dish you can make for one or for many.