Guest Post by Mack

“I’m still trying to bring new stuff in to the line-up here on the project.  Scottie goes home soon and will continue from the comfort of his home – you lucky bastard!

H.A. went to outside court and goes home very soon as well. Time to bring in a new voice.  Not just anyone, as I am picky.  …Only because I want you to enjoy and always get something from this.  Well, here he is: My friend Mack.  He can talk about certain aspects of life back here that I think you will enjoy.  Dig it!”

Hey J.J.’s family, friends, associates, fans, and others who don’t fit into any of those categories.  My name is Mack, who so happens to be black.  I guess I’m a poet now.  Actually, that phrase I plagiarized from J.J.  That’s how he explained to his sister who I was.  So I thought about it.  Hmmm… “Mack who is black.”  It became like a little mantra in my mind. LOL.  Anyway, this is strange because I’m having a difficult time introducing myself.  I have written probably 600-800 letters since I’ve been down, so being pen-shy isn’t one of my traits. 

So who am I?

Being black isn’t important, even though in prison it is very relevant.  Since I am “well-spoken” and not from here, being black can actually be a crutch.  I guess I’m black enough to be accepted (not that I really care about being accepted), and independent enough that I’m not perceived as a fake.  I’m not from “da ‘hood,” especially these ‘hoods, so my pretending to be would be sniffed out quicker than having an open bag of dope during a shake-down with the dogs.  I did live in da ‘hood back in Oklahoma City for a period of time, but my mom got a better job and moved us to a more multi-cultural ‘hood, so to speak.  I still attended predominantly black schools until the middle of 6^th grade, however.  Then, without warning, I went from a pretty much all-black middle school (6^th, 7^th, and 8^th grades) to an all-white elementary.  Ahh!  OMG!  Talk about an extreme culture clash in the blink of an eye!  It was like going from Queens, NY to Overland Park, KS. 

I lasted only 3 days. 

When my mom picked me up from school, I distinctly remember crying and laying on my mom’s leg.  She asked me, “Baby, what’s going on?

I said in a sobbing voice, “Mom, it’s too many white people and they all hate me!”  LOL!  Looking back at it now, it’s quite hilarious actually.  Thanks to my home-room teacher’s intervention, I integrated after that with ease.  That move ended up being a tremendous asset throughout my life.  Between that, the military, attending a black church, and travelling to Kansas City, Missouri pretty much every summer (where my grandparents lived in an all-black, non-ghetto neighborhood), I was able to get along with everybody.

…And yes, I did mention the military.  I served my country for a total of 8 years; 6 years Army and 2 years Navy.  How did I manage that, you ask?  Well, that’s another story for another day.  What’s funny is this one dude who is an ex-PN (personnel man) in the Navy calls me “squid-dog.”  What isn’t so funny is that I still came to prison.

So who am I?

I often consider myself the stupidest guy in captivity.  I’m 37 years old, been down 7 years, have 2 kids, and I’m sitting in prison away from them like a jackass!  If that sounds like self-pity, then I apologize as it is unintentional.  So how does that make me the stupidest guy in captivity?  I’m quite sure I am NOT the stupidest, but pretty silly nonetheless.  Let’s just say I wasn’t out there throwing rocks at the chain-gang.

Since I’ve been down, my mom has died.  Rest in Peace, Mom.  She passed away December 29, 2009 at the ripe old age of 55, which I found out through the mail on January 20, 2010.  Yep, that REALLY SUPER SUCKED.  I was the only child and she was my only parent.  What also sucked was she was finally going to come see me in early 2010.  Her finances, health, and state of mind were issues that prevented her from coming that long way to see me, but she had just gotten her back-pay from S.S.I.  You talk about ecstatic!  Man, she was very stoked about seeing her son.  Well, that’s life, I suppose.

I am not too religious, but I am convinced that God doesn’t allow anything to happen that we aren’t able to bear.  Just 5 months prior to that, a girl I dated a little while in high school just popped up out of nowhere.  We dated some while I was in the Army, but lost contact back in 1994.  She said she had been looking for me for 10 years.  We instantly connected, and that November I was able to get her on my phone list.  Just 2 months later, when I found out my mom passed, what saved me from snapping was the ability to mourn through her.  The night I received the news, I couldn’t sleep and every song that came on the radio reminded me of her.  I couldn’t do anything but write a poem.  Not a poem, per se, but some expressions of thought.  The next day I stayed in for chow to use the phone, as my appetite was shit.  I ended up reading that to her on the phone and inadvertently started crying.  …Not just tears, but from-the-soul cries where you hiccup and snot.  Luckily, they had something good for chow because I was virtually alone.  That helped me in a way I never thought it would.

But you know, life goes on and you make the best out of a shitty situation.  Some people may enjoy prison, but I am definitely not one of them.  I hate it with every fiber of my being.  However, I am trying not to let it consume me.  …By moving forward in a place that has no forward motion but a calendar.