J.J. Moves On

So, I'm standing in a line the other day. Waiting to transfer from one prison to another.  The big question...."Where am I going?"

I'm looking around at all these groups of prisoners.  Everyone is headed to some 'unknown destination' and they are wondering the same thing.  Wait....wait!  Here come the guards.  They are handing group 'A' a bag lunch and a shank.  So, that's the bus to Santa Rosa.  Yeah....glad I'm not in that group. 

About four hours later I'm on a bus headed out of the Florida pan-handle. 

 No more inbred rednecks telling me he's gonna put his foot up my ass.

Truth is, I'm learning how to do time.  Yeah...I'm learning how to be a convict.  No.  I know you think I'm referring to the whole 'respect' thing.  Becoming a real 'convict' and all.... no....being a convict isn't all that hard.  What's hard is calling my little lady and asking for another $20 on my canteen.  The trick is to ask without asking.  Like dropping hints.  Thank God my lady is smart.  Keeps me from needing to beg.  I drop a hint or two and she picks up on it.  Then she says..."Oh, Michael....do you need some money on your canteen?"  And I'll be like...."Oh!  Well now that you mention it, a 20 would be nice.  Thanks honey!"  She could play the game back, I suppose.  Make me come right out and ask.  But, my lady is a sweetheart.  She's cool.

So, really I was surprised that I transferred so quickly.  Many guys wait a year or more than I did.  Again, I think my lady helped me there too. My last prison kept sending me to the box.  Nearly every month.  And every day they had me in confinement, my lady calls the prison to ask if I'm out yet.  Finally, classification staff began to come back and tell me..."Your lady called again.  She wants to know if you are "OK".....Are you OK, Mr. Smith?"  I'll be like, "Yeah!  I'm fine....just hanging out back here!"

After this last time in confinement and all the calls my lady made to the prison, I imagine the Warden probably just said, "Get that mother fucker off this compound!!!"

It's exciting when transferring to a new compound.  The whole 'unknown' and 'unexpected' thing.  When I got off the bus at Gulf C.I. a few years back the guards said, "Welcome to hell boys."  I knew that wasn't a good sign.  The other day when I got off the bus at my new camp the guards said, "Welcome to the country club."

Now, they don't actually have an 18-hole golf course, but they do have shuffle board, bocci ball, and air hockey.  Perhaps there is a putt-putt green around and I just haven't found it yet.  The compound is so big that you would need a golf cart to tour it.

I play guitar, but have not held one in my hands in nearly five years.  There is a full band program here.  Civilian musicians come once a week and teach music lessons.  There are band try-outs later tonight, and then talent shows scheduled throughout the year.  A battle-of-the-bands is held.  Now, I know better than to carry on about all these new found freedoms.  You will all quickly quit feeling sorry for me.  **I say that with a smile.**

I am still too far from my loved ones.  A tall fence still divides me in person from my family. 

I will be able to do my time much easier here, but my goal will always be to go home.

Much love to all my brothers at Wakulla C.I.  To the people who have become a part of my life, while doing my time.  As you read this, you know who you are.  Much love.  I will see you on the other side.  Stay young, my friend.  Hold fast to what you believe in.  If life has anything to do with a race, I'm one step closer to the finish line.  Right now, I'm on cruise control.  The top is down, and I'm off to find the putt-putt green.

PEACE OUT!