Meet H.A.

J.J. has been about my life and my views on life behind this fence.  I write about my friends – the guys I do my time with.  We have each other.

Everyone who comes by J.J. has become a part of my life as well.  Yes, that would be you.  I figured it was time for you to meet the guys.  The dudes I do time with.  My brothers and the real Hooligans.

Last week you met my brother Scottie.  This week you will meet H.A.  I wrote about the birthday party some time ago.  This is the same guy. 

I need to mention one thing.  When you come to prison, you are a nobody.  The day you are given a nickname, you have friends, and have reached some sort of status on the compound.  You wear that name with pride.  It’s like a badge.

H.A. blew my cover and tells you my compound name.  It’s OPRAH.

Even my sister Ester didn’t know that.  Now you all do.  Laugh if you want, but when H.A. addresses me by that name, I know it is with hard love and brotherly respect.  H.A. is big and bad, and I am proud to have him in my corner.  Meet my friend H.A.

My name is H.A.

Life is school, we are here to learn.  Prison is my classroom.  When you come here you learn the rules real quick – outside life is no longer. 

This is literally the school of hard knocks.  You either fail or you toughen up and move on to the next subject – coping with your time.  Prison is a hard place to learn ‘cause everyone is against you - Inmates and guards alike… then the free world (we’re all scum, gonna-burn-in-hell-bitches). 

You have to make a decision: Am I going to make it, or am I going to fall apart?  Time can weigh on you heavy.  Some of these guys are never going home.  I am a lucky one.  I have a release date and I have three beautiful kids pulling for me, wanting to see their daddy again (I love when they say daddy with their little munchkin voices).

I’ve been in for a while now.  I started out a hard-ass - the fuck-you type – but that is how I was able to navigate my way through an evil mix.  If you want 12 rounds of throw-down, well, I’m your guy.

That choice got me no closer to my family.  I learned to move forward with my studies instead. 

Everyone walks around with their chest puffed out (I’m one of them).  It’s a survival tactic.

I’ve met some good bros in here, a lot of serious dudes doing serious time.  We have each other’s backs, not just for fights, but for friendship, guidance, and most important, someone who will listen and not judge.

You don’t show emotions in public (or the yard), but at the end of another routine day, time gets to you.  The loneliness, your family, and we all shed a tear.  Time sucks, and night-time is even worse.  If you have a good support group to fall back on it helps.  I have a few good bros in my corner.

It’s funny, the people you meet in here.  Not ha-ha funny, but people you probably wouldn’t meet outside.  I’ve met some good motherfuckers in here, some stand-up dudes I would go to battle beside (and have). 

Oprah – or J.J., as you know him – is one of those good dudes.  He’s my workout partner.  We have no weights in prison, so we use each other’s body weight.  He’s one of the few guys I discuss my family with.  He cracks me up with this project (J.J.), but I’m proud of him for going all the way with it.  It’s what helps him get through his day.  It gives him a personal goal.  It’s his fucked-up way to have mental freedom.  He has a great family and a beautiful lady (I’ve seen her – she’s hot).  But they’re pulling for him.  A lot of guys don’t have that. 

…Just like learning to shit and shower with dozens of men, you learn your own way to think outside these walls.  It’s not fun wondering if today you will have a few holes punched in your throat, or if some iron will be added to your diet, or – worse – if your family forgets you.  …Out of sight, out of mind.  I hope all the J.J. supporters keep it up, ‘cause for my buddy, you’re his family now.  You’re his mental freedom.

H.A.