Time

Time. I never had enough time. I was time-starved like most. I wanted more time. I dreamt and prayed for more time. I was always right on time but never ahead of time. When I drove to work, I woke up at 4:30a.m. to go for my daily run, shower, breakfast, and head it to work at 6:30a.m. It took me an hour to navigate the 30 mile commute. When the driving time lengthened and the distance remained the same and I felt my coming 15 or 20 minutes late to work every morning, I stopped having breakfast at home and decided to “enjoy” it while driving. I reasoned that a 30 minute head start would get me to my destination right on time. Soon, however, I found out that I was not the only “smart” guy in the bunch. As if all of us drivers received some kind of emergency alert or memorandum to skip breakfast at home. I noticed that most of the other drivers were doing the same thing. Everyone was counting off those “saved” precious minutes to get them to work right on time. My departure from home started to get earlier every month. I now wonder about my co-workers who lived over 60 miles away from work. What time did they leave their homes??? I was living to work instead of working to live. I kept asking for more time. Now in prison, I have nothing but time. I feel like the farmer who prayed for rain and got a flood instead. Sometimes you just have to slow down and put things in their proper places. Maybe God is telling our farmer the same thing: Take a break from all that hard work and go fishing instead.

I cry no more

I cry no more. There was a time when I was “soft”. I’d cry when hit hard. I would even cry when abused. My time in prison hardened my heart and dried out my tear ducts. Prison increased my tolerance to endure hardship and pain tearlessly. When abused I now don’t cry. Being disrespected is something expected and, therefore, it doesn’t shock the tears out of my eyes. When I miss my family, who I haven’t seen in over 20 years, I think of my last family gatherings and the love we shared. I don’t cry. I smile. I even face torture as a challenge to my endurance. When tortured, I think of my coach and recall his encouragement and shouts for me to not give up. To never let them see me sweat. I don’t cry even when it is hard because I know that letting my coach down is even harder. I spent many consecutive months in solitary confinement. I had neither reading nor writing material. I did not cry. I “entertained” myself by counting and recounting the bricks on my cell walls. I did not cry. Many times I came up with different brick totals. I did not cry. Other times, I counted the cracks on the walls for you never know when that knowledge can be put to a better use. I spent countless days reflecting on subjects that are beyond my intellect and other topics that are on my level. I wondered on the reason(s) for our existence and I also wondered why a bathroom tissue would be named “Heavenly” or “Sweet”. I had no sorrow nor grief but pain was part of me. I had so much pain that I felt it no more. I did not cry. I prayed and called upon my Creator to help me. No voice, no thunder, no lightning, no visions came about. I did not cry. Silence was all around me. I did not cry. I heard the usual cries and shouts of prisoners far away from my solitary cell. I did not cry. I heard the bangs of steel on steel as gates open and close. I did not cry. I wasn’t the only living creature, yet I was alone. I did not cry. I continued my worship and considered my cell a cave in a high mountain. I looked at my solitary confinement to be a religious seclusion and an opportunity to be alone with my Maker. A retreat. I felt peace, safety and great calmness. I even started telling myself a few jokes and found them to be quite funny. I laughed at myself and at my situation. There was a time when I needed to know what time it was. I don’t know why that was important then. However, by my second Christmas under those conditions, hours or days or weeks did not make a difference. All the days and the weeks were the same. I started using months as my time measurement. I now understand why a friend of mine who spent many years in prison used to respond to those who ask him what time it is by saying “2007″ instead of the hour. Hours have no meaning when you are doing decades in prison. I spent hours, days, weeks and months in the exact same place. Literally the same cell. I was allowed to get one hour every 24 hours for recreation inside an iron cage. I did not participate in that program. Why? I did not like to be disturbed, I refused to interrupt my worship, and I hated (and still hate) prison jewelry (i.e. handcuffs, leg irons, and waist chains). I have been in prison for a long time. Some of the prisoners I now meet were just born when I first set foot into prison. I am a different person now. Not so soft. Not so innocent. Not easily tricked. I no longer care what others think. I speak my mind without concern if the truth hurts or not. No sugar coating in my conversations. Many prisoners were stabbed, killed, had their heads cracked by locks-in-socks right beside me and I just kept watching my TV program or reading my book or walking as if nothing happened. I, too, was attacked. I had my nose and front tooth broken but I did not cry. This past Friday I received a letter telling me that my friend Russell had passed away. I read it more than once. I read the newspaper obituary and looked at the photo of my friend Russell smiling… I cried so much.
A path of patience taken by choice is much more comfortable than that forced upon me by circumstances. For the cold chills that my problems bring become warmth and a cool breeze when they face my coat of patience. To smile against all odds requires redefining the odds. I only love roses because someone told me that roses represent love. I never challenged that notion or definition. A sunflower is just as beautiful and its living characteristics are easily observed as it follows its lover (sun). If I were to express my love to my sweetheart, I’d rather use the example of sunflowers than that of roses …

The young prisoner’s letter

This week, one of the youg guys gave me an envelope. In it was a “letter”. Here is what he wrote…
If God Loved the world… … Why are blacks singled out, profiled, neglected, abused, falsely convicted, oppressed, hated, murdered, and suffering? But regardless of those facts, others (i.e. non-blacks) wanna be black, that is hypocrisy. Don’t they see how hard it is to be black? We are dying by the thousands in Africa. We are killing each other off by the thousands in America. We are the devil’s most valuable players on the chess board. The devil has divided and conquered us. With these materialsitic gadgets such as cards, rims, glasses, diamonds (which are stolen from Africa), clothes, shoes, etc. They have divided and conquered us through drugs and gangs. It is called modern day slavery, only difference, they use us to enslave each other. But non-blacks still wanna act black. That is crazy! Why do they admire us, we are hopeless. We are dying from Aids, drugs, gangs. Black women are in poverty. Black men are leaving their kids behind to run the streets. Black men make up the majority of the prison population. Black women are on welfare, turning to prostitution and drugs. Black men are becoming homosexuals. Black men are becoming endangered. We are losing our children to foster homes, juvenile detentions, the streets, gangs. Black people have surpassed whites in suicides. If God so much loved the world, why is my skin my sin????? …. If God so much loved the world…. why are kids starving? Living in the most inhumane conditions, no mother, no father, nothing. Kids running around sick, their parents have died in a meaningless war and simply labeled a casulty. If a person dies in war, nobody cares unless they were American soldiers. And what are they fighting for? Why are these crooked politicians running the country, fuelled by greed, lies, and murder. The prisident has committed genocide. Murder. Rape. Extortion. Blackmail. Why hasn’t there been a black or Asian or Mexican president? God, do you see what is going on? Satan is full court pressing us. Are you giving up? We are suffering down here man. Especially the minorities, the poor, the women, the kids, the old folks, send us an angel. It is hell on earth and satan just announced checkmate. Does it have to do with us being poor, black, or uneducated???? They are not rebuilding the projects. They are tearing them down. Running the poor out of their havens. They stopped welfare. They are bringing back the draft. They are targeting Muslims, Arabs, Blacks, Mexicans, Ex-Felons, The Poor Communities. Please do something….