THE DEMONS THAT LURK IN THE NIGHT

Perhaps you've seen the TV  drama Orange is the New Black?  Some of my family watch it to get a better idea of what my world is like on this side of the fence.  In your world you punch a guy over an argument and chances are it was captured on someone's cell phone camera.  The police are called and you likely catch an assault charge.

Where I live, someone turns a straightened piece of fence into an ice-poker.   They sharpen the end on a piece of concrete until it's a fine point.  Then they wait until you're asleep, sit on you chest and drive that metal over and over into your gut until they are pulled off you by either the police or another inmate.  They are then cuffed and taken to confinement.  Chances are they will get 30 days in the box. Usually they transfer one of the dudes out.  Other times they don't care and release both back to the compound.

My first prison was called Gulf CI.  It has a reputation just as bad as Florida State Penitentiary.  The day my bus arrived at the Gulf the guard informed us that when we stepped off there would be two lines.  One line would take you back to the compound.  The other would be for check-ins.  "Check-ins" are inmates who are in fear for their life and are scared to be in general population.  Both lines began to fill.  I chose the compound.

Prison is full of these choices every day.  You may be headed to chow and see three dudes creeping along the side of the line.  Each one has a hand inside his pant leg.  That concealed hand holds a lock in a sock, a razor melted into a toothbrush handle, or an icepick.  You learn to watch the road in here.

Out there you wait for the light to turn green, check the intersection, then proceed.  In here, we look for the dudes going against the main flow.  It may be the man bent over tying his shoe.  He stopped so he can fall back  and let the man he's supposed to attack begin to pass him.  Then  he quickly stands up and jumps behind the man while slicing his throat.  You learn to watch for the thing that doesn't make sense.

We have a saying here..."like a cat".  Meaning to stay on point with cat like senses at all times.  When you see your buddy with his head down you reach out and smack him in the nuts.  The idea is to keep your friends on point so they don't get slit.

When your buddy runs to chow and leaves his radio on his bunk or his locker unlocked, you go take his radio and clean out his locker.  When he comes back you let him think all his shit was stolen. After he trips for a minute you give him his shit back.  Again...the idea is to condition him for the real thing.

You leave your car unlocked out there, or your home, chances are they'll be ok when you get back.  In here?  That's not the case.  Everyone in here is criminal minded.  They look for the angle.  Like a con-man.  They see targets.

You go to canteen and come back with a full bag.  Everyone sees that.  They now know your house is full of goodies.  So then they watch you.  It may take a couple days, but they wait for you to slip.

You grab your toilet paper and head to take a shit.  When you get back to your locker, it's been cleaned out.

You go take a shower.  Leave your radio on the bunk and in that 10 minutes you were gone, so is your radio.

Blessings don't wait around the corner for you in here.  An evil man does.  Waiting to harm you.

Welcome to my life!!!

I may have thought I was tough before prison...that notion makes me laugh now.

After 8 years in here these walls have changed me.  I see every angle.  Anything out of place could be a trap.  It fucks with my head.  This place has tried to take everything good away from me.

I get on the phone and put on another face for my family.  You don't want them to see this.

But, in the end, the house sometimes wins.  It causes me to be too hard to the people who love me.  I have to back pedal almost daily.

Sometimes my life here carries out to my people.  It's hard to live this life when you get your head out there on the free side of the fence.

Prison gets worse and worse.  Watch the news.  Where do you think all those bad people go?  They come here...to be my Bunkie.  They stand in the line beside me at chow.  They work out by me on the rec field.

Please stop to consider this if you have a loved one incarcerated.  This isn't a TV show.  Nobody walks off the set here at 5 PM.

We get to stay right here with all the demons that lurk in the night.

Happy Hollidays

 "I've fallen and I can't get up" is something I hope to never say.  I have established myself as a solid, upright business man even among a world of greedy bastards.  My entire time in prison I have made my way.  I learned how to tread lightly around both guards and inmates.  I have been solid in every arrangement and people understand they can rely on me.  I went from an all-out crack head to being that dude.  My word is golden...you can put it in the bank.  I can give you my word, dap your fist and you can walk away knowing it's as good as done.

Your word and what you do are all you have in prison.  Doing someone wrong in here could lead to you trying to digest two feet of iron through your stomach.

I find myself begging my daughter to please answer me when I call.  Please take and hang with me for 15 minutes.  Seriously, I literally beg her to chill with me.  So, I think somewhere along the line she thinks her daddy is some soft push-over.  My motto here is..."If I know you I fuck with you.  If I don't know you, then fuck you."  But my daughter doesn't see that.  She sees her dad bugging her for her time.  I probably annoy her more than anything.  This is funny.

I watch these gangsters in here.  I watch them beat people up.  Fight and all that other stuff.  But you better never talk about their Momma or their kids.  Even the nastiest dude still has a Mom and his little girl will bring out his soft side.

I'm getting ready to call it quits and go home.  This is nearly over for me.  And...I'm blessed my daughter sees none of this and I'm still a dork that bugs her.

My mom and sisters talk to me about their jobs, their men, and their a-hole boss.  I hear about their children, their bills and I'm just a big brother.  My mom simply sees her oldest son.  I call my daughter's mother and we laugh about the kids.  I hear about what's for dinner and sometimes, just sometimes, I forget that I am a convicted felon serving 12 years in prison.

Sometimes it slips my mind that I broke all the rules and at one time actually wanted to be the baddest kid on the block.  Today I probably am one of the biggest dogs on the street but that doesn't matter no more.  I'm just a dorky Dad and somebody's big brother.

Happy Holidays.  Don't give up on the people you love.   Time changes things.

THANKSGIVING

Hello November!
Could be just another month, but not for me.  November is the month I was born.  And, ironically, it is the month I'll be free...in just two more years.  It's a chance to be reborn a free man.  The second time I will make my way into the world.

Eight years ago I was doing a hundred in a fifty-five zone.  I woke up, crushed two oxycodone on my dresser and snorted them with a twenty dollar bill.  I  then slid two more into my pocket and kissed the stripper, naked in my bed, goodbye.  I walked out the door for court not realizing it would be the last time I saw freedom for 10 years.

I stood in court on a probation violation and when the judge sentenced me to 12 years in the Department of Corrections, I said "OH SHIT!"

I quickly reached into my pocket and retrieved the last two pills I had stashed.  Having just enough time to swallow them before the officers cuffed me and led me out of the courtroom.

Looking back now, I see how fast I was going.  Speeding down the highway-to-hell.  When you come to prison you're angry.  You reflect!  Looking back and wishing I would have taken their offer.  Had I not come to prison, I would probable be dead!    So sitting here today I realize this place saved my life.

Shamefully, I probably wouldn't be the Dad to my little girl I have had the chance now to become.  I was a self-centered drug addict.

Safe to say,  I'm no longer angry.  Nor am I a drug addict or a dead-beat Dad.  I called my little girl the other day and was going through an emotional time.  I really needed her and when she answered, I asked her, "Taylor...who's your daddy?"  She comes off with some slick shit about how it's up in the air.  Could it be the milkman or the mailman...

I stopped her there and said, "Tell me it's me Taylor!"  So, she slowed down and said, "You're my father."  She's such a boob.  And she's totally my kid all day.  I would have said the same answer she did and it made me laugh.

What she didn't know is my friend Kimmy overdosed shortly after I came to prison.  Kimmy left behind a young daughter.  A young daughter who, at 20 years old, overdosed last month...just like her momma did.  And I had just received that news.

So I look back today, in this month of November:  Eight years ago all I could think about was taking those last two pills before I went to a prison cell.  Today, all I care about is that my little girl knows I am her dad and that I love her.

This is also the month of Thanksgiving.  I'm thankful to be free.  I am still behind this fence but you can't kill my spirit.  My spirit is free and my little girl carries it with her.

Taylor, you are my inspiration.  I quit smoking cigarettes so I could tell you never to smoke  and I  wouldn't be a hypocrite.  Every forward step I take is so you can watch me and see what you can do.
You can do anything you set your mind to.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!!!!

**USE BENEDRYL**

Screw the bees that sting.  Try some Benadryl.  I'm not leaving some sad song up any longer, it's time for some fresh ear-wax!

I've done some patchwork on the "Trump" wall in my life, and it's standing tall once again.  Seems the cart gets in front of the horse at times and I don't know why.  I sweat what comes next.   The point is--I'll be free!  What comes after that?

Who knows, who cares.  It's the adventure called life.  Sometimes us people worry too much about planning the thing, then forget to enjoy the experience.

I remember the weeks leading up to my wedding to my ex.  We wanted to cancel the wedding and kill each other.  Instead we got married, then tried to kill each other.  It's the details and all the planning that stresses you out so bad.  Your half through your vacation before you finally relax.

So, no more weddings and no more stressing.  Two years down the road, I'm just showing up, then finding out what happens.

That's difficult being in prison.  You want desperately to reach out and find something beautiful too grasp onto.  Some sort of hope.  A light.  A beacon that can guide you through this tough time.  So I'm reading my Bible a lot more these days.  I'm actually doing a devotional every morning.

Perhaps you find yourself up against some obstacle that is nearly crushing you.  We've all been there. Maybe the person you have always leaned on is the very thing that leaves you troubled.

Sometimes two people get so much on their own plate, there is nothing left to give the other!  Did I just describe 80% of relationships?

You could try a morning devotion.  Try something!  Happiness is priceless!!

Don't just stand there and get stung by the bees.  That's a dumb thing to do.

THE STING

I remember being a boy in northern Michigan.  We had these massive bee-hives that hung from tree branches and abandoned buildings.  The bees  that made these paper nests were called bald-faced hornets.

I'd say they pack the same punch as a rattle-snake, you just catch a lower dose.  Their sting will literally paralyze you and they will chase  you for miles.  Our stupid asses would throw rocks at them and then run like hell.  They always got you, and it felt like someone jabbed a dart into your skin. Then came the burning site sensation that would swell, fester and last for hours.

That boy grew into a man.  I chuckle to think back at that silly boy, then realize us adults still do the same dumb shit.  I still throw some rocks then run like hell.  The sting we feel hurts more and lasts longer than the bees ever did.

That boy never stopped to consider that was the bee's home.  They were just in there, chillin', doin' what bees do.  We came along and knocked their happy  homestead on the ground.  No wonder they got so upset.  The boys grew into men and still forgot to consider what happens when you fire shots at unsuspecting targets.

I'm not talking about bees anymore.  I refer to lives and feelings and someone's heart.  I married a woman when I was 19.  When we divorced eight years later, she told me that one day she hoped someone would come along and crush me the way I did her!  I've managed to avoid that because I've installed a "Trump" size wall around my heart.  I've always been the one throwing rocks, and never had anyone get inside enough to knock down my happy place.

I've been doing this prison thing for eight years.  This place starts to get under your skin.

If you use the same washer at the laundromat every week on Tuesday and one day you come in and someone else is using that washer, what happens?   What about that parking space you like so much in front of your job?  You park there every day but today someone else parked there.  One person just moves to the next washer, or just uses another parking spot.  But that likely affects yet another person.

What if you parked in that spot for eight years?  What if you used that washer on the same day for 8 years?  It's not your washer anymore than it's your parking spot.  We somehow get all in our emotions over this shit.  I use this reference because I'm trying to ask you to understand my mind.

Lately I have been asking a woman to understand.  I don't think she does.  It frustrates me and even more so, when I had to realize I let someone scale the "Trump" wall.  Instead of simply walking away like I usually do, or run, for that matter,  I;m just standing here and the bees are coming and the sting hurts like hell.

I feel a loss of direction.  What's up?  What's down?  It's a lot to sort out.  Someone has been here for a long time and now they're leaving.  I've been sleeping in the same house for eight years, ten when I am done and then I'm moving back to someones else's house.  It's unfair for me to ask people to sit around and wait for me to see the end picture.  My end zone comes into play in two years.  I can't call that two years from now any more than I can call it today.

To any woman who ever wished some dude would one day feel their pain, don't worry---he will!!
Somewhere, someplace, sometime.

Once  upon a time there was a boy without a care in the world.  Throwing rocks at a beehive.......

FREEDOM

The rotation of earth with the moon creates the tides. The tides change as water rushes out to sea. There, the process is reversed and you experience the high-tide as once again the water rushes back in. Thus creating the circle of life.

The laws I've  broken over a decade ago set things into motion that would change the man I am today.  If time indeed heals the broken heart, I pray it can bring peace to the people I have hurt in my life.

They sentence people to prison in an attempt to remove them from society and punish them.  Hoping that in the end if the punishment fits the crime, the offense will not be repeated.   There are other things that consequently can happen to that person as well. Things that make silly boys into hard men.

If you ask a prisoner what their biggest dream is, nine times out of ten, they will tell you freedom. Freedom for me is:  sitting with my family together at a Thanksgiving meal, taking my daughter to a concert, watching my nieces and nephews play in the yard while the adults grill out, or blasting down the road on my Harley.

Being free once again consumes me.  I feel like the benched player that raises his hand to the coach, begging to be put in the game.

I have trained my mind that I am no longer an addict.  I have worked out five days a week for nearly a decade to stay in shape.

Some people think 40 is cresting some hill as though your life has neared the end, For me, "40" is my starting line.

I don't want to have my car drive itself, I want control of the wheel. I want to take back the wheel of my life as well.  I want the opportunity to wake up and choose what I want to eat for breakfast.

Prison has caused me to learn to cut the strings.  I don't live by my heart, I live by my gut and cat senses.  I have to remind myself to show heart to people because prison has made me a cold man in many cases. That's the side effect of living in a very cold world for 10 years.

I thought I could completely beat this place.  Unfortunately while doing this amount of time, it's now inside me.  I remind myself that if time can heal a broken heart, then time may also reverse the effects of this place on me.

Prison knows heartbreak.  It doesn't know emotion.  It will chew you up and spit you out over and over.  In prison you live by a code.  Respect!  You prove your respect and loyalty to the men here. When your friend gets his shit stolen and his ass kicked, will you stand in the paint beside him?  If you do, then he owes you the same.  Thus a bond is created.

I have family back here that isn't my blood, and I have blood out there that isn't my family.

I call home every week to ask my mom to tell me the newest news on each of my brothers and sisters because I care.  I live a life where I'm out of sight, and out of mind.  Nobody owes me anything, but I've been watching.......

Those people who have stayed at arms length from me while I was gone can expect the same, once I'm released.  "You" didn't stand in the paint beside me.  When my life was taken and I was left standing beside a cold concrete wall on the wrong side of the fence, I felt alone.

If your just reading these words, you have somehow cared more than most and I feel you standing beside me.

Thank you,

Tunnel Vision

Watching my daughter turn 19, wishing I could turn 40 already and seeing the light at the end of this tunnel finally.  The finish line begins to come into focus and I'm realizing it's time for me to begin to shift gears

I've lived here with the attitude of "when in Rome, do as the Romans"...  It's saved my life and carried me through a dime in D.O.C. - Prison lingo- for ten years is a "dime" since it's worth 10 cents...

A soldier goes off to battle for 5 or 6 years and comes home diagnosed with PTSD and a multitude of other ticks and misfires..I've seen dudes cut, stabbed, beat near to death and hung.  You learn to simply walk past these scenarios if they don't involve you, so that they don't BEGIN to involve you.  I've seen racial hatred grow 10 fold over the past few years.  Then you have the gang wars and retaliation.  You learn to pick your battles since you may die in the process.  So was it REALLY worth it?  You ask yourself that everyday.

I find myself reading a chapter in my Bible every morning just to make certain my guardian angel has had her coffee and is read to tackle another day beside me.  I'm also pretty certain I'm going to obtain my medical-marijuana card once I'm home, so I can enjoy prescribed mental satisfaction.

I have enjoyed writing for this blog as it's a means to vent and stay connected.  Many of my friends and even family seldom write me, so this has become my message board to keep you informed that I'm still alive and half-sane.

I've learned a lot about myself in here.  I found how far I can bend without breaking.  People grow when they get pushed down.  A divorce, the loss of a loved one, a miscarriage.  Whatever the ordeal, it's these situations that create well rounded people who can stand tall when any kind of push comes to shove.  If you haven't been through much, good for you.  But you should probably seek out someone who has had their shit-hit-the-fan, as your go-too.

My little girl is 19.  She's finding her groove and walking out her own path.  I'm proud, she has one hell of a Daddy who has been there and done that.  I'm blessed she's OK with that, embraces it, and loves and respects me.

A special thanks to you readers who have followed my life on the jail-bird.  I intend to write more in an attempt to begin the transition back into society.

Until next time...

Taylor Made

I sit here in prison and look back over my life.  The wild and crazy ride my life has been.  I have stated before that my daughter is by far the greatest accomplishment I have ever taken part in.  When I see her take her journey through life it's like watching a smaller, younger version of me.  I take pride knowing my blood pumps through her veins.  No one can take that away from me.

My little girl graduated this month.  I didn't do that.  My mother wasn't able to see me walk because I was expelled my senior year.  I'm now in prison and wasn't able to see my daughter graduate, but my mom did.  Mom say and saw her granddaughter walk in her cap and gown. This is one of those times that is indeed priceless.  Whether she knows it or not, my little girl just gave my mom and special memory.  I asked my mom to be my eyes and ears and to take pictures and bring me as close to the action as she could.

I have a great relationship with my daughter.  She knows I love her and that I'm proud of her.  The thing that scares me most is that I have two and half years here.  I told her the other day on the phone that I worry some boy will come along and steal her time away from me.  She laughed.

I have this dream she will still want to spend time with me when I get home.  That I can somehow take back all the lost years.  Perhaps I can give her back all those years I wasn't there in her life.  One thing is certain.... I'll spend the rest of my life cheering her on and being her biggest fan.

Being your daddy is the greatest gift God ever gave to me, Taylor.  You move me to be the best man I can be.  To never do wrong and to never have to leave again.  I love you from the bottom of my heart and always will.  Congratulations little lady!  You make me proud.

Your biggest fan,
Your dad