I received a phone call from the state prison work camp, I already knew who was on the other side. I can picture him leaning up against a dirty sea green cinder block wall, hoping that his phone call gets connected, because sometimes I don't answer. He must be lacking funds for a phone card because the name that is trying to connect with me is someone else's other them my dads. When the call is connected, I hear my dad say hello. He began to tell me that they have set a date for him to be released. Shit. I couldn't be more happier, considering this go 'round lasted three years. I'm sure its no thing for him. We talked, he gave me the rundown of his plan. Mental health will be supplying him with medications while on the outside, and he has a place paid for a few months until he can get on his feet.
I wonder what goes through is mind in these last few days leading up to his release. Is he worried about how he is going to survive? Does he give a shit about me and my family? His actions and incarceration lifestyle has affected me my whole life. He has devoted more time behind bars then he has with his kids. I am the only child he keeps in touch with on the outside. His oldest is following his footsteps in a prison in California somewhere, and the other that is close to me in age lives in Colorado. I have talked to him a few times and his interests are having multiple kids, making rap videos, and talking about bitches and hoes.
****
Growing up my grandma used to take me to the county jail in her small town to see my dad. This is when visits consisted of going outside in the sunshine and having supervised security allow my dad to hug me and twirl me around. I remember this visit vaguely, only because their were pictures that I have stored in a box somewhere. I also remember being scared of him. I didn't know this man and I was just so young. He had been in prison/jail when I was born. Over the years growing up, he went back to prison and I received letters from him and each had a drawing either on the outside envelope or a folded picture that wrapped his scribble writing. Those letters and drawings would be how I came to know my dad until I was well in my early twenties. Off and on after that, we would hang out and get to know each other. He became close with my kids, but now like me they are having to endure the process of him coming back into their lives after being locked up for some time.
****
His release date is in the next few days and he will not be released here in my hometown due to the fact that the parole board will not take him in. My dad has a LONG history of authority issues when it comes to parole officers telling him what to do. He only seems to do well when the Law has him cagged up and stripped of his rights. When he is walking the outside word and has to check in, stay sober, and make choices for himself, that is when he starts running into problems. I give him credit for trying, and wanting to make it work but I have said several times that it will only be a matter of time before he goes back. I lost hope a long time ago. Over the course of these last few years he has told me through our phone calls that his outlook on prison has changed. I think he has always said something to that extent. He said he is getting too old for this shit. I agree. But who am I to judge?
Listening to:
Buddy Guy "One Room Country Shack"
I wonder what goes through is mind in these last few days leading up to his release. Is he worried about how he is going to survive? Does he give a shit about me and my family? His actions and incarceration lifestyle has affected me my whole life. He has devoted more time behind bars then he has with his kids. I am the only child he keeps in touch with on the outside. His oldest is following his footsteps in a prison in California somewhere, and the other that is close to me in age lives in Colorado. I have talked to him a few times and his interests are having multiple kids, making rap videos, and talking about bitches and hoes.
****
Growing up my grandma used to take me to the county jail in her small town to see my dad. This is when visits consisted of going outside in the sunshine and having supervised security allow my dad to hug me and twirl me around. I remember this visit vaguely, only because their were pictures that I have stored in a box somewhere. I also remember being scared of him. I didn't know this man and I was just so young. He had been in prison/jail when I was born. Over the years growing up, he went back to prison and I received letters from him and each had a drawing either on the outside envelope or a folded picture that wrapped his scribble writing. Those letters and drawings would be how I came to know my dad until I was well in my early twenties. Off and on after that, we would hang out and get to know each other. He became close with my kids, but now like me they are having to endure the process of him coming back into their lives after being locked up for some time.
****
His release date is in the next few days and he will not be released here in my hometown due to the fact that the parole board will not take him in. My dad has a LONG history of authority issues when it comes to parole officers telling him what to do. He only seems to do well when the Law has him cagged up and stripped of his rights. When he is walking the outside word and has to check in, stay sober, and make choices for himself, that is when he starts running into problems. I give him credit for trying, and wanting to make it work but I have said several times that it will only be a matter of time before he goes back. I lost hope a long time ago. Over the course of these last few years he has told me through our phone calls that his outlook on prison has changed. I think he has always said something to that extent. He said he is getting too old for this shit. I agree. But who am I to judge?
Listening to:
Buddy Guy "One Room Country Shack"