120. Earning Freedom (4.1) with Michael Santos
I\u2019m reading from chapter 4 of my book, Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term.
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Chapter Four: 1990-1992 / Months 37-57Contractors complete the remodel of B cellblock and I join the 600 prisoners who were confined with me in A cellblock for our relocation. It\u2019s not far from the old housing block to the new one, just across the polished corridor. I climb the zigzagging metal staircase to the top unit, B-3 carrying all of my possessions. I have sneakers, t-shirts, sweats, khakis and toiletries bundled up and tied inside my blankets and sheets that I carry over my shoulder, like a hobo. The move lifts my spirits. It\u2019s a fresh start in a clean, new environment. Although I\u2019m still in the same prison, the remodel replaces the hundred-year-old decaying building with modern plumbing, working lights, and air conditioning. The remodeled B cellblock brings an upgraded quality of life, much better than I\u2019ve known for several years, and I\u2019m learning to appreciate these incremental improvements.
In place of the old-style cages, the new housing unit features a different design. Solid steel doors enclose rooms, side-by-side, along the outer walls of the building. Community areas include an open rectangular area the size of a basketball court that prisoners call \u201cthe flats,\u201d located in the center, and a second-tier, mezzanine level. I smell freshly painted walls, but with costs and utility in mind, the builders left the bare concrete floors unfinished. Six single-stall showers at the far end of the unit offer an illusion of privacy. An annoying fire alarm blasts repeatedly, suggesting that contractors still haven\u2019t finished their work. Even so, I already like B cellblock better, which is good because I expect to remain here for several more years.
Prison counselors may have additional duties but, from a prisoner\u2019s point of view, their scope of responsibility is limited primarily to assigning work details, approving visiting lists, and assigning living quarters. I don\u2019t expect any counseling on how to cope with the inevitability of living for multiple decades in prison. I have to adjust on my own, and from the counselor\u2019s list, I see that my next adjustment will take place in cell 616, on the top tier.\xa0 I\u2019m assigned to share that cell with a man in his late 30s who goes by the nickname Windward. The proper term is \u201croom\u201d rather than cell, as it has the steel door instead of bars. But since we\u2019re locked in, it\u2019s still a cell to me.
Windward is a native of Georgia and his speech has that slow southern twang, peppered with lots of \u201cy\u2019all\u2019s,\u201d that I\u2019ve become familiar with over the past two years. Windward likes to say he is American by birth but Southern by the grace of God. He takes pride in his appearance, wearing his hair in a mullet\u2013long in the back, feathered on top, and cut short above the ears\u2013with long, sloping sideburns that he calls the \u201cGeorgia slant.\u201d His mustache curves down around his mouth, and he has a habit of twirling the long ends with his fingers when he talks.
Windward served a previous prison term for drug trafficking in a Georgia State prison. With that criminal conviction on his record he couldn\u2019t find a job, so he reverted to smuggling drugs. The Coast Guard intercepted his boat\u2013which was loaded with 300 kilograms of cocaine\u2013as he cruised through a channel somewhere in the Caribbean known as the Windward Passage. He pleaded guilty to an importation charge and his judge imposed a 20-year term. The name Windward became his handle. I won\u2019t mind sharing the cell with him, as he\u2019s not dangerous, and he\u2019s entertaining with his tall tales about thousands of female conquests.
Coordinating a schedule in our two-man room is easier than it was in the larger cell I previously shared with five men in A cellblock. I continue to work in the factory business office, attend school, volunteer on suicide watch whenever possible, and exercise. Windward\u2019s schedule is more relaxed. He\u2019s a unit orderly and he works the night shift, sweeping and mopping the floors while all other prisoners in the block are locked in their cells. Except for lockdown periods, Windward and I don\u2019t crowd each other in the tightly confined space of our closet-sized room. I have time alone to think, which is how I like it. But not everyone feels the same way.
Whenever violence erupts in the penitentiary the warden orders a lockdown and the claustrophobia drives Windward stir-crazy. Sometimes the lockdowns last for a day, sometimes for weeks. Although I miss the yard, I relieve stress with pushups or running in place when I\u2019m not working on my independent studies. We don\u2019t have enough space for both of us to be on the floor at the same time, so while I read on my rack Windward paces four steps toward the door, peers out the window, turns, paces four steps toward the bunk, turns, and repeats this pattern over and over.
\u201cCan\u2019t you relax?\u201d I ask him.
\u201cI hate being cooped up in here.\u201d Windward snaps as he continues to pace.
\u201cYou know what you need? A goal. Some self-direction, something to work toward, to fill your time.\u201d
\u201cWhat I need is a woman, a fifth of Jack Daniels, and an ounce of good weed.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s what you want,\u201d I point out, \u201cnot what you need.\xa0 There\u2019s a difference.\u201d
\u201cDamn straight, and I know what I want,\u201d he tells me.\xa0 \u201cI want a woman, some good booze, and an ounce of good weed.\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s better to focus on something to work toward, something they can\u2019t take away or stop.\u201d\xa0 I\u2019m no longer a novice at serving time, but I haven\u2019t yet learned how to restrain myself from dispensing unsolicited advice.
\u201cNot again with all that dime-store psychobabble bullshit,\u201d Windward waves his hand at me, swatting away my suggestion as he would an annoying fly. \u201cI told you once and I\u2019m tellin\u2019 you one more time.\xa0 All that schoolin\u2019 ain\u2019t fixin\u2019 to help you none. A convict once, Michael, a convict forever.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s giving up.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s reality, Son. Ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 matter here but time. Y\u2019all can read all the books you want, but in the end ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 gonna matter. I done been there. You ain\u2019t tellin\u2019 me nothin\u2019 I don\u2019t know.\u201d
Windward expresses only two possibilities for his future. Either he will seduce and marry a rich woman, or he will earn a living with drugs again after release. He thinks I\u2019m fooling myself with my aspirations of joining society. He\u2019s convinced that a prison record extinguishes all possibility for a legitimate life. It\u2019s like an echo, this recurring message of hopelessness, reverberating throughout the penitentiary. I refuse to buy it, refuse to accept that I can\u2019t create new opportunities and new directions for my life.\xa0 Every day I renew my commitment to work toward something better. I\u2019m planting seeds, knowing that those seeds will take many years before they take root and blossom.\xa0 When they do, however, they\u2019ll provide for a better life than I\u2019ve known and a better life than what others tell me I can expect.
I prefer not to have contraband in the cell, but I don\u2019t live here alone.\xa0 The best I can do is get a promise from Windward that if guards find his stash during a shakedown, he\u2019ll take the heat. Still, I\u2019m not deceived about the value of such promises and I worry. He assures me that he\u2019ll never keep home-brewed wine in the cell, or drugs, but I know he conceals a plastic shank inside a hole he hollowed in his mattress that he insists is necessary for protection. I have different perceptions on how to protect myself: I stay out of people\u2019s way and I mind my own business. I can control my decisions, but I can\u2019t tell anyone else how to live and I won\u2019t go sniveling to the counselor with a request to move because I don\u2019t like what Windward keeps in the cell. I have to roll with the realities of living inside a high-security prison.
\u201cRolling with it,\u201d however, is stressful because of the personal commitments I\u2019ve made. I constantly visualize how I\u2019ll return to the outside world, and I\u2019m not convinced that society as a whole would agree with my prosecutor\u2019s statement that 300 years of good deeds would not suffice to atone for my two years of trafficking in cocaine. Redemption may be as elusive as the Fountain of Youth, but I\u2019m determined to minimize my exposure to problems that can block my efforts to find it.
I\u2019m familiar with executive clemency, a power vested in the presidency by the Constitution. With the stroke of a pen, a president can commute a federal prison term. It\u2019s rare, as presidents build legacies by signing international treaties, or pursuing world peace, not by releasing prisoners. Still, striving to build a record that proves worthy of consideration for clemency gives me a purpose, something to work toward.
\u201cWhat\u2019re you gonna do, walk on egg shells through your whole sentence?\u201d Windward taunts, laughing at my aspirations. \u201cDon\u2019t you get it? No one cares what you do or what happens in here.\u201d
\u201cMaybe not. But what do I have to lose by trying? Even if the president doesn\u2019t commute my sentence, if I earn real credentials, don\u2019t you think I\u2019ll have a better shot at success when I do get out?\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s just no way to serve time. You\u2019ll see.\u201d
Windward is right. It\u2019s the reason I never think of myself as serving time. I\u2019m in a hole, a pit that is deep and dark, and I\u2019m doing what I can to build a ladder that will allow me to climb out. I don\u2019t know how long it\u2019s going to take but I know that every rung I ascend to will make a difference in my future.
That\u2019s why I pay close attention to Mark as I sit in those Mercer University classes. He\u2019s in his mid-30s with an athletic build that is suited to his chosen sport of tennis; I never see him working out on the weight pile where I exercise every morning. He doesn\u2019t have tattoos and he\u2019s one of the few prisoners in here who keeps a clean-shaven face.
Mark may sit at the small desks in the same classrooms with other prisoners and me, but his vocabulary, eloquence, and knowledge distinguish him. It doesn\u2019t matter what course we\u2019re studying, whether it\u2019s literature, history, or economics, Mark articulates his thoughts with confidence. It\u2019s obvious our studies at Mercer are not his first university experience.
\u201cIn what ways does Jane Austen use irony in Pride and Prejudice?\u201d Professor Higgins asks the class, but only Mark has answers. I don\u2019t even know what \u201cirony\u201d means.
\u201cWho can help us understand the connection between the Treaty of Versailles and World War II?\u201d Dr. Davis, our professor of history asks, looking for a class discussion. Mark is the only student capable of discussing the treaty\u2019s influence on the morale of the German people and the subsequent rise to power of Adolf Hitler.
\u201cHow does the economic system of Marxism differ from capitalism?\u201d While the other prisoners and I shift in our seats and stare blankly at Dr. Watkins, our economics professor, Mark\u2019s hand shoots up. He offers an elaborate contrast between the theories of Adam Smith and Karl Marx, emphasizing the essential influences private property, competition, and free markets have had on advancing Western civilization, particularly that of the United States.
I want to express myself like Mark, intelligently, and with a style that shows I\u2019m a man who understands the world and how it works. Knowing that I can learn from him, I introduce myself after class one day.
\u201cYou must\u2019ve gone to college before,\u201d I observe.
\u201cNo, only in prison. Been taking classes here and there for the past seven years,\u201d Mark answers.
\u201cSeven years? And you haven\u2019t graduated?\u201d
\u201cI hardly ever finish. A year hasn\u2019t passed when I haven\u2019t been hauled off to the hole for something or other. Sometimes I just drop the classes, bored with it all.\u201d
\u201cDon\u2019t you want to earn a degree?\u201d Seeing an obviously bright guy with such little ambition puzzles me.
\u201cIt\u2019s not that I don\u2019t want one. I just get caught up with the day-to-day living. Can\u2019t do much about it when I catch a shot for a dirty urine or get caught with a mug of pruno.\u201d
\u201cWhy don\u2019t you quit using drugs?\u201d
\u201cYou sound like my ol\u2019 lady,\u201d he laughs.
\u201cYeah, I don\u2019t get that,\u201d I tell him.\xa0 \u201cIt seems to me that someone as smart as you would understand the importance of having a college degree.\u201d
\u201cIf I get it, fine. If not, it doesn\u2019t make much difference.\u201d
\u201cHow is it that when you\u2019re in class you sound like a lawyer, but out here you sound like you don\u2019t care about anything?\u201d
\u201cWhen in Rome, do as the Romans,\u201d he laughs. \u201cTruth is, I don\u2019t care. But in class I get tired of all those professors coming in here thinking we\u2019re all worthless.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s not how they see us. Most of us probably aren\u2019t as advanced as the students they teach on campus.\u201d
\u201cI like letting \u2019em know I speak their language.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019ve noticed. Someday I hope to know as much as you.\u201d
\u201cNone of it\u2019s new. This stuff was drilled into me night after night at the dinner table growing up. Got turned off of education when the parents beat me over the head with it, telling me how crucial school was to my future. Fuck it. Started getting high instead, rockin\u2019 out with Led Zeppelin and Hendrix and the Stones.\u201d
\u201cI wish I knew so much that I could simply turn my educational level on and off at will. It takes everything I have just to keep up with the class.\u201d I explain to Mark that I consider an education essential to my future and describe how I\u2019ve structured my time inside to avoid the obstacles that block so many others.
\u201cDoesn\u2019t that get old?\u201d he asks.
\u201cWhat?\u201d
\u201cAll that goody-two-shoes bullshit, the rigidity, that structure.\xa0 I mean, Dude, we\u2019ve got enough people telling us how to live in here. I can\u2019t see how you\u2019d want to put those kinds of demands on your time. I mean, let\u2019s be real. You\u2019ve got enough time.\xa0 It wouldn\u2019t hurt nothin\u2019 to let up a little.\u201d
\u201cYeah, I don\u2019t see it that way. I\u2019ve got an opportunity to earn a degree right now. Who knows whether I\u2019ll have it tomorrow?\xa0 I\u2019ve got to seize the moment, then create something from it.\u201d
\u201cBig deal. Let\u2019s say you finish all your classes and get your degree. What\u2019s next? You\u2019ve still got more than 20 years to go.\u201d
\u201cOne step at a time. With a degree, I know I\u2019ll be able to open new opportunities. Maybe I can go to law school. I\u2019ll find something and I know the degree will help, especially if I can learn how to express myself as well as you. How did you build such an extensive vocabulary?\u201d
Mark laughs. \u201cYou mean my \u2018grown up talk?\u2019 All you need to know in here is \u2018motherfucker.\u2019 Learn how to use that word as an adjective, noun, and verb.\xa0 Drop as many motherfuckers as you can into every sentence, drop it into the middle of words, and you\u2019ll fit right in. Like I fuckin\u2019 said, when in Rome, fuck everyone else.\xa0 Do as the motherfuckin\u2019 Romans.\u201d\xa0 He laughs.
\u201cI\u2019m not trying to fit in here. This isn\u2019t my life and it\u2019ll never be my life. I\u2019m serious. How did you develop such an impressive vocabulary?\u201d
\u201cI don\u2019t know. How did you learn the word window?\u201d
\u201cReally, I\u2019m serious.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m serious too. I learned the language that was spoken in my house. When I write home or to people outside, I communicate one way.\xa0 When I\u2019m in here I use the language of the pen.\u201d
From my pocket I pull a stack of index cards I carry with me. On one side I\u2019ve written a word that I came across in a book, on the other side, the definition, the part of speech, and an example of the word in a sentence. \u201cThis is how I train myself to learn new words,\u201d I tell him.\xa0 \u201cIt\u2019s a strategy I picked up after reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Whenever I\u2019m waiting in line or whenever I have down time, I work through the flash cards. Test me.\u201d I toss Mark the stack.
\u201cYou\u2019re kidding. Man, you\u2019re fuckin\u2019 obsessed, intense!\u201d He starts shuffling through the cards, looking at the words. \u201cImmutable?\u201d
\u201cImmutable.\u201d I spell it. \u201cNot capable of being moved or changed.\u201d
\u201cOkay, that\u2019s pretty close. How about truculent?\u201d
\u201cMean, a bad attitude, a truculent person is one who always wants to fight or battle.\u201d
\u201cA lot of that in here. I don\u2019t even know this one. Tenebrous.\u201d
\u201cDark and gloomy.\u201d
\u201cSee, your vocabulary\u2019s good, just as good as mine.\u201d He passes the stack back to me. \u201cJust keep reading.\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s not the same. I\u2019m learning the words and I\u2019m able to use them in writing when I concentrate, but they don\u2019t come to me easily, or roll off my tongue naturally when I\u2019m trying to express myself. That\u2019s what I want to learn.\u201d
\u201cWell you need to reach out, to communicate with more people. All work and no play makes for a dull guy. You can\u2019t just live as a hermit in here. There\u2019s a word for you, hermitage.\u201d
\u201cI already know how to speak the language of this place. I\u2019m trying to transcend this place, to leave here without everyone I meet knowing that I\u2019ve spent my whole life in prison.\u201d
Mark considers me for a second, then he offers a suggestion.\xa0 \u201cI\u2019ve got a friend you should write. He\u2019s a professor. My sister\u2019s always trying to straighten out my life and she introduced me to him.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re kidding! You have a friend who\u2019s a professor?\u201d I can\u2019t believe this good fortune Mark offers so casually. I\u2019ve been living in prison for three years, but books and learning have transported me out of here, at least in my mind. A university campus is like a mythical setting to me. Although I\u2019ve been studying, accumulating credits, and building my transcript, I can\u2019t imagine a more personal connection to the university than communicating with an actual professor.
\u201cHe\u2019s from Chicago, but for now he\u2019s in Chapel Hill, at the University of North Carolina. We write every week.\u201d
\u201cIs your sister a professor?\u201d
\u201cShe\u2019s not a professor, but she\u2019s affiliated with the university. Bruce, my friend, heads the program she\u2019s with, some kind of renewal center for educators. Do you want to write him?\u201d
\u201cDo I! This is the best news I\u2019ve had since I\u2019ve come in. I\u2019ll write him tonight.\u201d
\u201cFine. Give me the letter tomorrow and I\u2019ll send it off with an introduction.\u201d
The next morning I give Mark the lengthy letter I want him to pass along to Dr. R. Bruce McPherson. It describes who I am, what I\u2019m doing in prison, and how hard I\u2019m working to educate myself. I try to express how grateful I\u2019d be to learn from him through correspondence.