I was recently talking to another guy about things we never did until we came to prison. Why? Because you think about stuff like that while you’re in prison and when you’re finished talking about the bad food, the a—hole guard, or the guy down the hall who annoys everyone, you look for something different to talk about.

Now to paint the full picture, we were outside standing in our groups waiting to go to work. You see, in prison you go everywhere as a group and you always walk in a line. But before you walk in your line, you wait. This particular morning it was 32 degrees and we had been waiting for about 40 minutes for our group to be called to walk to work. Freezing and looking for something to take our minds off the cold, this typical morning discussion went off the beaten path.

As we stood looking up at the morning sky, I looked over to the guy next to me, angled my chin towards the south and said, “Do you realize that next week the sun will start to make its way back?” He looked at me funny and asked for an explanation. I explained how I had started to notice where the sun was in the sky every morning because I get up early and often find myself staring out the windows. The sun is on a natural path to the south as you get closer to winter, but it begins on a path back north after the winter equinox on December 21^st. I told him that I never noticed it before coming into prison. He shakes his head and say, “Man, you do anything in here you never did on the street?”

I continued, “Well, yeah. I used an entire tube of Chapstick, start to finish.” He starts laughing and shaking his head. He then says, “Shoot I always found mine in coat pockets, in the back of kitchen drawers, and the console of my car but I can’t ever remember using a whole tube.” After a minute passed, I chuckled and said, “I used a whole ink pen too. I never did that. Ever.” He just kept shaking his head and said, “The things we took for granted, huh? Kinda f—ked up.”

I hate those moments of remembering. Man, it sucks.

 

So, what the take away from my morning conversation? Simple…don’t miss anything. Don’t be too wrapped up in seemingly big things to miss the important, little things. Live in the moment and don let the moments just pass by. Don’t worry about the Chapstick or the pen, they don’t really matter like these other things do:

A good hug from someone you love.

Getting a phone call from someone who wants to say “hi.”

The smell of food in the oven

Sitting on a comfortable chair and listening to the silence…yeah, silence.

Going for a drive, just to drive.

Laying in the grass and staring at the beauty of a night sky.

I could go on, but I am really beginning to depress myself. Just remember that when life is moving along at a break-neck pace, I would recommend you slow down just long enough to breathe. Take a breath, look around, and take it all in. It could be worse. You could be huddled in a group waiting to walk in a line to go to work.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year -MB

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the initial challenges I faced upon entry into “the system.” Looking back on these days seems almost dreamlike, and not in a good way because it was damned scary. Being locked up is everything you hear about in the movies. I knew I had to find a way to survive, and looking back, I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it.

I had my first fight a week into my incarceration. I say it was a fight, but in reality, it lasted all of ten seconds, but I learned a very valuable lesson. Back in 2015 when all this happened, the internet was full of kids playing a game called “knockout.” If you remember, young punks would run up to unsuspecting people and punch them for no reason only to see if they could knock the person out. This was the basis of my welcoming party into the system.

I spent my first week in a block that contained three-manned cells where you were let out in alternating two-hour blocks, typical of most jails.  I was then moved to an open-bay block where you were not locked up into a cell. It was set up to be one open room where you moved about freely. This open cell block is a reward for the inmates who are modeling good behavior, or so I thought.

I don’t know what actually set it up, but while walking back to my bunk, I was confronted by a guy who just unloaded on me. It was very surreal. I saw the punch coming, but it seemed to take forever but even then, I didn’t move. I took the punch full force to the right side of my face. But the amazing thing was, I didn’t feel pain. The look of shock on the guys face still is etched in my mind. The look of disbelief when I didn’t go down. Then I did what only came from instinct. I hit him back, twice.

As happens, people came out of nowhere to break up the fight since no one wants the officers to come in for any reason, especially for fights. Officers tend to discipline the entire group for this type of “rules infraction.” After the adrenaline rush diminished, I started to feel my jaw throbbing, and immediately checked my teeth. All were accounted for, but then I finally realized that I survived my first fight in jail. Then I wondered if there would be retaliation.

Long story short, I found that I not only passed my first (and important) test, I gained a quick reputation as someone who could fight. Inmates tend not to threaten other inmates able to, or most importantly, willing to fight. Being able to handle yourself in prison is paramount to your survival. It’s either that or leave yourself open to unwanted negative treatment which can get bad.

I’ve seen a lot in my time in here, from people using locks and homemade knives as weapons, to group beatdowns for someone that “disrespected” the group. I was at a camp where the statewide riots of 2016 began, and I witnessed first-hand how concussion grenades and tear gas are used by the prisons Rapid Response Team to take control of a situation. I’ve seen other inmates become victims of the system too. I won’t go into detail, but inmates are not only “handled” by other inmates in a negative way. I mean, this is prison.

I think my greatest lesson learned, however, was how not to get into bad situations. I have learned to taper my anger and have more patient. I have polished up my people skills and have had plenty of opportunities to use non-competitive confrontation tactics. Mostly, it is remembering that everyone here is going through difficulties of some type. Empathy was not really my nature, but I’m learning.

Maybe we can all take that one thing away. Take a minute to walk in the other guy’s shows. They may not fit, and you may not like them, but you will appreciate your own shoes when you put them back on. Until next week. -MB

As I write this, I am struggling to get going. Today, Florida has felt its first freeze of the year and I am “frozen” with several topics on my mind. In the last few weeks, it’s been easier than I expected to write about some of my experiences. But today I am struggling with “analysis paralysis” of the many topics I can dive into. But I think I will just back up a little and give some insight to why I’m writing in the first place.

After having my initial appeal denied by the court, I fell into a depression. I entered the holiday season with a sense of dread that I was stuck in a world I did not belong in. I knew I still had several legal options to consider, but also felt that I was fighting a system stacked against me.

As always happens, once a legal decision is made public you begin to receive solicitations from legal firms promising the expertise you need. Some mailings actually contained informative details of the process I would be facing. For whatever reason, I kept the letters and filed them away.

It took a few months, but I slowly found the urge to reread my trial transcripts and dig back in the issues that still haunted me nightly. “What happened to my defense?” “Why didn’t my attorney say this?” “Why did the judge do this?” Soon, I started to ask other people the same questions. After becoming frustrated with the range of answers from other inmates, I had the idea to make use of the free call offered in the solicitations. With the help of my son, I began to set up phone calls to speak to the attorneys.

Fast forward to May 2018. After more than a dozen phone “interviews” with different attorneys and hours spent researching case law, I found that my case riddled with critical errors. Good for me, right? Well, not really. I needed an attorney, but I did not have money to hire one. This is when I started to kick around the idea of using crowd funding. The idea was not well received by some. Bottom line? No one likes to ask for money. Inspired by my research, I prepared to put myself out there and trust God.

Until next week. MB

If I were asked to name the hardest thing to deal with in prison, hands down it’s the loneliness. I mean, there is a lot more to deal with in here. Picture putting a massive group of alpha-males who don’t think the rules apply to them and who handle confrontations initially by fighting into close community with each other. Then throw them into the mix, guards who have control issues and a system focused on punishment and custody versus rehabilitation. It is a lot for small-town boy to deal with initially.

Psychologist, author, and holocaust survivor, Victor Frankl once wrote, “We need new types of leisure which allows for contemplation and meditation. To this end, man needs the courage to be lonely.” I think most people would read this and think of finding solitude from a busy world or getting away from everyday stresses. But he was writing of the very loneliness that is rampant in prison. The worst kind of loneliness comes from not belonging. Living it firsthand, having people walk away from you is devastating.

The loss of connection is insidious. Like a lot of prisons, the camp I am in is located far from any major population center; it’s over 1 ½ hours’ drive from Jacksonville or Orlando. The cost and time required for family to visit is prohibitive. Phone calls are limited to 15 minutes, barely enough time to catch up on the weekly life events let alone express emotions required in a relationship. And forget about letters. People just don’t write letters anymore. Without the current technology of cell phones, inmates are excluded from the worldly habit of electronic communication. Life here can be summed up like the old moniker – sit down, shut up, and hold on.

If I were to select one characteristic of the lost men in prison, it is the hopelessness. Don’t get me wrong, some have done it all to themselves and they continue to do the same things in prison. However, some are good people who made a mistake and understand what they have to do. Regardless, nothing in life prepares you to be surrounded and fell alone. Nothing.

So how do I do it? Well, to quote Mr. Frankl again, “The last of out human freedoms is to choose our attitudes in any given circumstances.” I embrace the Stockdale paradox that author Jim Collins made popular in his book, Good To Great. Paraphrasing his writing, we have to deal with the harsh realities that we are dealt, but never lost hope that things will work out. I struggle every day, but I stay focused. I continue to be lifted by the few who remain supportive to me.

One thing is for sure, what I am enduring I am not going to wish on anyone. Nobody I know is a bad enough person.

Hug your loved ones. Happy Thanksgiving -MB

Can you look back on your life and see God’s hand? Coming to prison certainly opened my eyes. The first weekend in county jail, I slept in the common arear because all the cells were full. Weekends can be quite busy for the jails, I guess. But at 5:00 Monday morning I was awakened by an officer and told to find a cell. This was not easy since I did not spend the weekend networking, I was lost, trying to find an open bunk with compatible roommates. This was no easy task, especially at this time of the morning.

I tried two cells I remembered two decent looking guys living in, only to find them full already. Prodded by the guard to get in a cell, I was forced into the last open cell. As soon I as I walked in, a very angry and large black man shouted, “AWWW, HELL NO!” greeted me. I did not need intuition to know that he was not happy with a white guy coming into his cell. All I could muster in reply was, “There’s nowhere else to go man.”

As I stood staring out the small window of the door, I knew it was about to get real for me very quickly. Then my new cellmate asks me, “Do you know Jesus?” When I said “yes”, he sounded relieved and explained that he had been praying to be surrounded by positive Christian men, so he could stay focused. He apologized for his outburst and introduced himself as Nico. Nico proved to be my guardian angel of sorts, guiding me through the “rules” and providing protection needed in that environment.

There were too many instances over the last three years to give credit to coincidence. From how and when I was moved, who I lived next to or worked with, to the move that put my wife and I less than an hour apart after spending most of a year over 9 hours apart. I believe that God is still working here.

I think of the stories I will tell my grandchildren about prison and have to laugh…some of this stuff you just can’t make up. As the movie stated…”God is NOT dead.”

“I believe in Christianity like I believe the sun has risen. Not only because I see it, but by it I see everything else.” -CS Lewis

So how do you prepare yourself for prison? Well to be honest, I didn’t prepare so I wouldn’t be the best person to ask. I didn’t think I would lose my trial. Arrogance? Ignorance? Confidence? Probably a mix of all three it’s just how I’m wired. But the reality is I made a huge mistake taking the system for granted.

I remember standing in the elevator getting ready to go to the cellar of the courthouse to get processed for jail saying to myself, “What now? What the hell do I do now?” For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a plan. It was coming fast and hard.
I was processed and placed in a holding cell with five other guys. Not too bad when it is built to hold twenty. But over the next eighteen hours, thirty six other guys filled the room…or overfilled I should say. Most were brought in overnight either still riding high or crashing from a long bender. There was only one toilet for the whole room and no food was served until six in the morning. Guys were rummaging through the garbage eating leftovers and scraps for that day’s dinner. I was stunned to say the least.

There was one phone in the room but I didn’t know how to dial out from jail and I wasn’t looking to start a conversation with anyone in the room. So I just sat on the cement ledge that was supposed to be a seat and tried not to fall asleep. At that time, the only thing you want close to you is God. Although I really wasn’t ready to talk to him just yet. I was really pissed off at him.

But God did show his hand. It took him a while. On Monday morning, he reminded me that he wasn’t far from me.

More to come next week. Thanks for reading. God bless. -MB