Holiday ritual in a concrete mall

MEMPHIS, TENN. — Inmate 384657 lined up with the other women of G Unit and filed past paper candy canes decorating a cinder-block wall. The body that filled out her prison blues was compact and wide-shouldered. Her hands and neck were streaked with burn scars; a blurred blue wrist tattoo read "RIP Mollie J." Her hair was swept into an updo fancy enough for a prom.

She approached a folding table where a smiling volunteer sat with a pen and a checklist.

"Name?"

"Johnson," the inmate replied.

"Room 5?"

"Room 5, yes ma'am."

The volunteer handed over a Bible tract and a $125 gift card. And with that, Lavonia Johnson -- a 30-year-old convicted murderer and mother of four -- began her Christmas shopping at the Mark H. Luttrell Correctional Center.

The tables spread out in the prison gym were crammed: For the little ones, there were pink princess vanity sets and oversized plastic cars. For teenagers, off-brand electronics, costume jewelry and trendy cologne. The gift displays were arranged like stores in a mall -- there was even a "food court," with sweets from the kitchens of Tennessee church ladies.

Over three days last week, the 400 women incarcerated here carried on much like patrons at any suburban Wal-Mart as they browsed the merchandise, all of it donated by Memphis churches and businesses. They hoisted boxes and read fine print, checking for small parts, age appropriateness, the need for batteries. And they did their best to look good, wearing lip gloss and eye shadow applied by inmates in the prison cosmetology program.

Amid the bustle, Alfretta Young, who is serving a 12-year sentence for dealing cocaine, clutched a handful of teddy bears to her chest. She knew the gifts weren't quite right for her three girls, ages 13, 15 and 16. But she couldn't help herself.

"I wish they were still young," she said. "When they get into high school, they ain't really into dolls no more."

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This is the second year inmates here have acted out their strange and poignant pantomime of the holiday shopping rush. Corrections officials say it is one small way to strengthen the fragile connection between convicts and their children. It is also an acknowledgment that the youngsters need their mothers -- no matter what those mothers may have done.

"It's important for the children to get a personal gift . . . a gift that their mother actually picked out," said Alma Harris, the prison chaplain. "Because the children are doing time too. They may not be behind bars, but they're doing time."