Tales From The Lion's Den: Alumni Authors Circle 2019

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Until the lion learns to write his own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are at risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high-quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive self-projection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities.

In collaboration with

TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction.................................................................................... 1 The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 3 Jose S.

Windows......................................................................................... 4 Justin "King" Payne

I Got An A........................................................................................ 7 Terrell L. Smith

The Things I've Lost And Found................................................. 8 Julius Jones

Life's Rough.................................................................................... 11 Julius Francellno

Sometimes..................................................................................... 12 Donald "Beast" Arrington

No Show.......................................................................................... 14 Crandall Williams

Liquefied......................................................................................... 15 M. Jorgensen

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 18 A. Duckins

If Only.............................................................................................. 20 "Cowboy" D.D. Smith

Dream.............................................................................................. 21 Trevor Robinson

The Things I've Lost And Found................................................. 22 Jonathan Rodriguez

La Eterna Primavera..................................................................... 24 Benigno Escobar

Guardian Angel.............................................................................. 31 Naquan T. Richardson

Memory Lane................................................................................. 32 Everardo Garnica

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 36 Justin Hamilton

ER..................................................................................................... 38 Justin "King" Payne

Road To Greatness........................................................................ 39 La'Voy Brown

My Aunt........................................................................................... 40 Rehomore Romello Lee Spivy

Had It All......................................................................................... 41 A. Duckins

Scandalous..................................................................................... 42 Yam D. Ibanez

Jail Folks Ain't Crazy...................................................................... 43 Fatboy “Z”

Hey Beautiful................................................................................. 44 Julius Francellno

A Note To The Real Purpose....................................................... 46 Trevor Robinson

Outside............................................................................................ 47 "Cowboy" D.D. Smith

Campbell......................................................................................... 48 D'Angelo Garcia

Trevo Obinson................................................................................ 49 Trevor Robinson

Bike Ride......................................................................................... 50 La'Voy Brown

The Things I Wish I'd Lost............................................................ 51 Fatboy “Z”

Two Dreams.................................................................................... 53 Chris Villegas

15 And 1............................................................................................ 55 "Cowboy" D.D. Smith

Catching The Vapors..................................................................... 56 Brandon Young

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 57 Victor R.

The Day I Fell In Love................................................................... 58 Daryl E. Williams

Slowlie & Crazy: After Every Call............................................... 59 Trevor Robinson

Lost World...................................................................................... 60 Yam D. Ibanez

Bullpen............................................................................................ 61 Fatboy “Z”

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 63 Rome Cox

For My Kids..................................................................................... 66 Codeon Ingram

All The Same.................................................................................. 67 Robert Hill

Lifeline............................................................................................. 68 Daryl E. Williams

Life Here.......................................................................................... 69 Naquan T. Richardson

My Last Backflip............................................................................ 70 Terrell L. Smith

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 71 Daniel Aguilar

Green Eyes...................................................................................... 72 Yam D. Ibanez

The Accidental Right Answer...................................................... 73 Fatboy “Z”

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 74 Tykari B.

Surprise!.......................................................................................... 76 "Cowboy" D.D. Smith

Corporal Punishment................................................................... 78 M. Jorgensen

Chicken Soup................................................................................. 79 Yam D. Ibanez

The Things I've Lost...................................................................... 80 Alonzo Redditt

INTRODUCTION When ConTextos first launched Authors Circles in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections in February 2017, each participant took risks—as humans, as colleagues and as writers pioneering new possibilities. Together we entered the unknown to co-create a space where we each revealed our complex humanity through intense dialogue, radical vulnerability, deep reflection and authentic collaboration. In Authors Circle, the path toward publishing one’s personal memoir is both a singular and collective journey. The Authors’ first Publication Celebration, when they hold their published memoirs in their hands for the first time and present them to family, friends and the world, is a powerful pivot point.

A publishing event has a conclusion, but the desire to connect as humans and as writers will persist and strengthen. As many Authors remain in CCDOC after publishing their memoirs, we have again come together to create a different space, an Alumni Authors Circle, where we build upon our shared self-knowledge and continue the journey inward, outward and onward. The Alumni Authors Circle represents the desire to continue connecting as human beings, sharing stories, discovering and offering layers of life—past, present and future. This compilation of writing reflects the desires of Authors to experiment in various styles of memoir writing while focusing on shared common denominators of humanity.

It is our hope that the reader values these works as much as the Alumni Authors Circle values their ongoing journey of staying engaged and connected as they author the future.

Peace & Purpose, Johnny Page & Lissa Kenner ConTextos Authors Circle Facilitators

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The Things I’ve Lost Jose S.

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he watch that my father bought me in LA on one of his few trips around the country.

My remote control car that I forgot on the seat of an old bus when I was visiting my grandma.

The opportunity to get into the military academy, because of my bad physical condition.

My grandma, when she lost her battle to cervical cancer.

My parakeets. They were a present from my mother’s aunt.

My Polish girlfriend after the summer and beginning of fall, because she went back to her country.

The Christmases, birthdays, Mother’s Days with my family because I am here.

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Windows Justin “King” Payne

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ay son, let me take a minute to tell you about my best friend. When I first met him, I seen him through a window. The moment I saw him, I knew how powerful he was, because in that moment my eyes filled with tears.

Then that window was gone, and I held him in my arms for the first time. I was so scared but excited. Now, I’ve done my share of raising hell, even birthing children. But the feeling this little person gave me was like no other.

Fast forward a couple of years, now in the “terrible twos”: I just started working again, after a couple months off. I pull up the driveway and park in front of the garage. When I get out of the car and look at the house, I see the excitement and love pouring from the face of this little angel peering out the window at me. As soon as I get in the house, he runs into my arms, yelling in his gibberish, “Um ba! Um ba!” Like a fresh battery, he renews my very soul. All the stress and vexes of the day flee from this mighty little soldier! Every day after that, he runs from the living room to the den when he hears my car rumble up the driveway, and every day he stands in that window watching over me as I get out the car, yelling and screaming, jumping up and down. His Uncle Buddaz is home.

Now let's fast forward again: my mighty little monster, my best friend, is now going on 6! It’s 2018, and again we see each other through a window. But this window is different;

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it doesn't open and the doors are forever locked around them.

Hardly any sound escapes it. The tears in both our eyes are filled with the same love, but something else is there, too... pain.

He stares blankly through this filthy window, lost, confused, hurt. “Mom!” he says, “I want to hug my uncle, why can’t I hug my uncle?”

Shame, anger and despair swell up in me, but I do my best to encourage him and try and make him smile. After several unsuccessful attempts, my niece—totally unaware of the situation—jumps in with an assist and gives her big brother a huge wet toddler kiss. I finally get a smile.

Something sparks in me. What’s that? Feels familiar—oh, it’s hope!

As I shift the conversation from my OG to my sister, to A’Joi, the mood settles. He tells me about school—he’s so intelligent!

He talks about his favorite game, which is now Minecraft on Xbox. He shows me his shoes that light up around the sole, and tells me how much he loves being a big brother.

Then the hard part comes. After 30 minutes of holding the floodgates back, they burst open at the sound of the door lock releasing, signaling the end of the visit. I put a fist to the window—the universal “pound it”—and with tear-stained eyes he reluctantly returns it.

Through a window, I watched my best friend leave. God, I wish I was leaving with them. It’s crazy how windows were a sign, a portal, that brought so much joy. Now stuck behind these walls, windows hold back the things and the ones we love.

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I don't know how to end this because it's not over. But what I do wanna say is, to my best friend and favorite nephew: I’ll always be there for you, in spirit and in truth. Walls can't hold me forever. Everything created has an end. Put family first.

Always listen to your mom; she was my sister first, then your mom. Take time and smell the flowers; don’t speed through life at 100 miles an hour. Life is short, so love long, and take knowledge from it—experiences both right and wrong.

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TERRELL L. SMITH

I GOT AN A Me and the mother of my children attended Ivy Tech Community College together. She was pregnant with my youngest at the time. We attended a reading class together.

We would always debate on who was the smartest. There was a book report due in the last week of the class; with me running the streets, somehow she ended up doing both of our reports. She got a B+ on her paper, and an A on mines. I smiled and said, “See, I told you I was smarter.�

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The Things I've Lost And Found Julius Jones

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y freedom, inside of a group home in 1993, after getting punished by the judge at court. Respect for my mom, because I was awarded to the state due to her drug use. The $2.50 I stole but the police had caught me. The ability to control myself, because of the powerful effect from the drugs and alcohol I consumed. A diploma I never got because of my incarceration 11 days before graduation, and part of my heart because my first girlfriend dumped me.

Around 2002, my wardrobe, because my friend got evicted from his home. My childhood, because I was jail’s best friend, and he always sent me off. The soul I tried to keep secret from negative energy and the one thing we all call The Streets. The TV camera job at Harpo Studios, known as The Oprah Winfrey Show. In 2004, the two times my girlfriend had miscarriages, that left me flabbergasted as well as deflated. My innocence in 1997, a couple weeks after summer school let out, I believe I was about 15 years old: the pain, shock and horror I felt when these grown men beat down this lady and her male friend so viciously that the guy’s eye popped out and later on, the woman died.

In 2007, the battle to avoid the advances of a married woman, Rachel, who I stayed with, and I kicked it with her husband, James, on a daily basis. The ability to be around someone’s girl and not try to have sex with them. Like my ex, Ansherica, where we both got each other’s names tattooed on our arms, but my faith in her had slowly deceased. In 2010,

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eight pounds of weed and $14,000 dollars because this chick I was with let her negative-minded brother get into her head. In 2011, it was twofor-one because my homie/big brother had died bleeding to death while drunk-arguing with his girl. He had put $10,000 of my drug money up for me, but that died along with him because I never knew where he put it at.

November 7, 2016, the feeling in my face caused by nerve damage, due to having metal plates to fix a broken jaw.

• • • • • In the early ’90s, the ability to be athletic and strong in school, especially because of the fact that I was the runt of the family. In 1993, the importance of my being allergic to dandelions and a lot of different seafood. In ’93, the fact that I was an honor roll student and I loved school; actually, it was the learning, the girls, and the way that I dressed.

In ’94, the fact that I was a smart troublemaker: the intelligent kid who always stayed in trouble. The respect for my elders, because of the way I was raised and from being in The Streets.

At home, a hundred dollar bill inside a pair of my favorite colored jeans, along with my favorite Jordans, sitting there together in the attic. In ’97, a duffle bag half-filled with money, and two months later who it belonged to. In ’03, the approbation and appreciation of redbones but mostly Caucasian chicks. And in ’06, at home on the side of the entertainment center, under the sofa in the corner, was a pile of my things, keys, rings, blunts, change, and a couple broken Newports, because of the pet ferrets I had. In ’09, the ambition I had to sell drugs and save money, and then in 2011, my car keys, in the gutter on the roof, that belonged to the Crown Victoria I sold because I’d lost the keys.

In 2014, the inside of Cook County Jail, for a case I did not commit, and still here three years later where Debra, Lisa, and Jennifer—my teachers

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who taught me how to actually write memoirs and books, who took me under their wings and transformed me into one of the many Authors in ConTextos—opened up another door in my life that changed my world impeccably.

The respect for my mom, because I truly understand it’s not her fault that she couldn’t control the magnitude of sickness from using crack cocaine.

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Life’s Rough Julius Francellno

At 18, he told me it was an accident, but that’s far from the truth.

When I was 7, I knew a few things about drugs. I used to watch the “junkies” outside my window buy this white substance, and a couple of hours later come back looking like zombies, asking for more.

The junkies would pay for this white stuff with coins, electronics, car sounds, and whatever else they could. I learned early on that they would do anything for the white stuff they wanted.

One day I hustled up enough money to go to the store and buy a boatload of candy, chips, and whatever else I desired. As I was walking to the store, I seen a man behind me, hiding his face from me every time I looked back.

I knew this wasn’t normal.

As I got closer to the store, the man started running towards me.

I ran. He caught me. The man slammed me on my back, took my money out of my pockets, and said, “Life’s rough.” The man looked familiar, but I couldn’t place his face.

When I returned home, I told my mom. She asked me what the man looked like, as I sobbed in her arms.

When I was done describing the man, she pulled out a scrapbook of a man holding me as a baby and said, “Is this him?” I nodded my head yes, and she replied, “That’s your dad.”

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Sometimes Donald "Beast" Arrington

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’ve gone back for a second, thinking about her face.

It takes a minute for reality to re-materialize around me. The bleak roughness of my surroundings phasing through the imagined landscape of my consciousness. I’m washing my clothes in a toilet. Washing something in the same place where I put my waste and filth. Makes about as much sense as the rest of my choices in life. Though for all the backwardness of it, there is still that feeling of suitability, that air of its correctness for this act. Once you get past the colorful misconceptions, it’s just a hygienic appliance. Properly maintained and manipulated, it is good for more than just one use. Someone that didn’t need it wouldn’t know that though; to them it would just be a toilet.

Resourcefulness seems to be the real enemy of the world.

Finding a way around the way things are done gets or can get you in a lot of trouble, even when you’re not hurting anyone by it. For me, being resourceful was always the line between life and death. I came from having a mindset of “maybe I shouldn’t” to an outlook of “why not,” and for good reason. The streets don’t favor the gentle and timid, but the bold and ambitious. This knowledge was fed to me every day I went hungry, and preached to me from every magazine, TV, and billboard I ever saw as an adult. So I guess it’s no surprise that I find myself in jail, where your creativity

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dictates your comfort. This is all a product of my cavalier attitude, but I wonder if I could, would I change it.

They say time gives you a chance to think about what you’ve done, but more often than not I find myself lost in the things I didn’t do. The things and experiences I might never have due to one bad decision that made the same type of backward sense that washing my clothes in a toilet does.

They say right before you die, your life flashes in front of your eyes. So what does it mean that behind bars, my life flashes in front of my eyes every day?

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CRANDALL WILLIAMS 14

NO SHOW In Menard, we dress up nice to go on visits. Fresh haircuts, blues tucked in neatly, and shoes tied up perfectly. Nobody could tell us that we couldn’t look presentable. When our families drove for miles to see us, we always made it worth their time. This day I was expecting to see my 10-year-old daughter. My mom was bringing her there. When they arrived at the visiting area, I saw no one but Mom. My daughter had to wait in the car with my father, because her mom forgot to sign the papers that allow small children to enter prisons.

Liquefied

P

M. Jorgensen

anic set in as I wondered if today was going to be the day I died.

Saturday started like any other for our family when I was a kid: Dad screaming at the top of his lungs to get my brother, my sister, and I out of bed for breakfast. With a foot of snow on the ground and the temperature below zero, I knew the day was going to be bitter. I didn’t want to leave from underneath the warmth and safety of my navy blue comforter.

The second scream and threat from him to come upstairs to pull us out of bed by our feet more than encouraged us to embrace the cold.

We knew not to test him ever. I sprung from bed and rushed down the stairs first. My brother and sister followed. We arrived in the kitchen to the glorious aroma of maple syrup and fried bacon. We all took our respective seats along the sides of the six-person burnt-orange oak table. We knew to be on our best behavior in front of our father. He was setting the table with plates and silverware while I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

I opened them to my mother at the kitchen island near the stove, removing grease from the bacon by patting each piece that left the pan with paper towels. As my father filled each of our plates with bacon and pancakes, I asked him if I could pass on the scrambled eggs because my stomach turned at the smell of them. He didn’t acknowledge my request and piled on the eggs, looked at me, and told me I needed the protein for my health. I begged him not to force me to eat the eggs, and again he refused my request, telling me to eat up.

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I looked at the eggs on my plate with disgrace. How would I rid myself of these horrible eggs? My father’s rule was that you have to eat everything on your plate before you could leave the table. When I looked into these eggs, I knew I couldn’t consume them, and decided right then and there I wasn’t going to eat them. But how was I to get them off my plate?

We didn’t have a dog to feed them to, and Buster, my cat, wouldn’t touch them. The garbage can was just past my father, under the pearl-white phone that hung from the wall. I plotted a foolproof plan: I would act as if I was eating the eggs, and when my father looked away, I would spit them into a napkin, and place the napkin in my pocket to discard of later.

As soon as I assumed “mission accomplished,” I could feel my father's eyes piercing through me. I was caught, I sensed it. I tilted my head up and sure enough there he was like a rabid dog, veins bulging from his neck. I knew I was dead! Just like the climax of a roller coaster, my heart sank back to my stomach.

He told me to pull the napkin out of my pocket. Everyone was silent, everyone had fear in their eyes, and then my father said. “Everyone finish your breakfast and leave the kitchen except Michael.” He said this so calm and collected that it put a chill down the back of my spine. Everyone else finished breakfast in silence.

I hoped he was bluffing. My mother cleared the table while my brother and sister knew better than to be around when the shit hit the fan.

Everyone exited the kitchen except my father and I. I dared not move, even holding my breath because of the fear my father instilled in us all. I couldn’t eat the eggs, I tried to but my gag reflex kicked in and I almost threw up.

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I begged him to not make me eat them. He didn’t believe me when I told him I almost puked. He said he was done playing games and turned to the fridge, opened the door, and pulled out the carton of eggs. He moved to the island and bent down. When he came back, he had the blender.

I had no clue what was to come next. He cracked two raw eggs and dropped them into the blender. He grabbed my plate, and dropped the scrambled eggs in with the raw eggs.

I was shocked. Was he joking? I would soon find out. He forced the lid on the blender and looked at me and said, “It’s time to act like a man.”

Then he hit the liquify button on our blender. I cringed at the sight of that yellow liquid tornado swirling ’round and ’round inside the blender.

He stopped the blender and opened the top, unscrewed the pitcher, and poured all the contents into a bourbon glass he had nearby.

I thought maybe he would call it off at the last second to instill that fear into me. He was as serious as a heart attack and I nearly had one. I sat there while he was hovered over me with the bourbon glass filled with liquified scrambled and raw egg in hand. After what felt like another eternity, I finally broke. The only way off this cliff was to jump, so I did. I plugged my nose and tipped the glass against my lips into my mouth.

I chugged that disgusting liquid and kept my nose closed during the aftermath. I slammed the glass down. I was so glad it was all over but it wasn’t. I couldn't eat or even stand the smell of eggs cooking for 10 more years after that. Not until I enlisted in the army was I ever able to be around eggs without getting nervous, sweating with flashbacks, and sometimes even throwing up.

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The Things I've Lost A. Duckins

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n 1985, I lost my dad when I was four, even though he died when I was 12. One of the things I liked about him was he loved dogs. And I lost a dog named Monroe, a German shepherd mixed with a pit who got his name from the street I lived on. When we left to move to Mississippi, I had to give him to the pound. I was 16 at the time; that’s when I got my first car, a 1980 BMW, a stick shift. I lost it because we had to sell it for $400 to help get back to Chicago.

At 17, I can never forget my momma’s husband’s truck broke down and I lost all my clothes. I had just what I had on my back. Staying with my mom’s friend, I got clothes from the Goodwill. That was when I lost a bird that I bought from the store next to Goodwill. When I took it home, I was afraid of it and let it fly out the window.

In 1999, a year later, I was 18; I got my own one-bedroom apartment and a security job that helped get me a car, a 1980 Pontiac Sunbird, for $600. I lost my apartment because I quit my job because I wanted to be outside with my friends. So I moved back with my momma, feeling down I was back home and had to go by her rules.

At 21 years old, I found a girl who had an apartment and I had a baby with her. I’d keep her in the house while I was out with other women. I lost her when she put me out.

Then I stayed with my right-hand man, Debo. I was 23 and working security at Mount Sinai, fell in love with a girl and had a baby boy.

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Moved in with her and she let everybody move in with us. I lost her.

Moved out because I kept arguing with her mom and sisters.

At 29 years old, I lost my job, my car, and my apartment because I did not put oil in my car. That’s when I met my wife. Moved in with her; we had a son and we fought a lot, and so I moved out three months later.

She lied and got me in jail.

I’ve lost two years of my kids’ birthdays. I lost two years of Mother’s and Father’s Days. I lost being around people that love me. I lost a year and a half of good night’s sleep. I lost three days of writing classes. I lost eating my favorite foods and the ability to be happy every day. I lost the feeling to be lost because I’m already gone.

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If Only “C owb oy ” D. D. S m ith

A

lways thinking back. The past... Why is it so hard to let it go? Sometimes it makes you full of joy, and other times it brings you pain.

I sit waiting to be judged. I say to myself, Self, if you would have just been selfish and took the career opportunity, that second chance in life...

I was only 27 years old when, out of the blue, I get a letter from my first wife with my two kids, letting me know that the Chicago Fire Department had hired me as a firefighter. I took the test in 1984 before I left Chicago. Now it’s 1987 and I’d just moved to Atlanta. I was doing okay with two jobs as a forklift operator at a warehouse from 8am-5pm and a sorter/ unloader at UPS from 11pm-3am.

The letter said I had only four days left to make it back there. I had to talk to my friend and soon-to-be wife about the move, which I thought was the right thing to do. We had just moved into a new apartment, and had a one-year lease and rent was due. I said, “We can move to Chicago,” but she said, “That’s too far.”

She always had my back, and she knew that I wanted that job. I had told her my plans two years ago and she was down with it (because she didn’t think I would get it). Now she’s looking at me with tears in her eyes. My heart hit the floor as I said, “I got you, I love you and we’re going to make it.” I became her husband instead of a fireman.

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TREVOR ROBINSON

DREAM I remember having a dream I was in jail. It seemed so real until I woke up, and I remember saying to myself, “I never want to have that dream again.”

A couple of months later I got locked up, and the same thing that happened in my dream was happening again.

It seemed so fake until I didn’t wake up. I went to sleep.

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The Things I’ve Lost and Found Jonathan Rodriguez

M

y dog Max when I was 7, on New Year's Day, while on my way back from school to feed him. Going around the back of the house because my mom was allergic to him. Seeing him hanging from the rope of the gate.

My best friend at 12 when we moved from the house in Chicago.

The love for my dad when he beat my brother for sneaking out of the house. Respect for my parents when they sent my brother to stay in Texas as a kid.

Half of myself when I got the call on September 21, 2006, that my brother was killed. My freedom when they said I committed murder.

• • • • • A new dog from my brother named Blue, because he said that's how I looked when he saw me the day after Max died.

Love for my mom because she never gave up on me when I gave up on myself.

Love for my sister and brother for always having my back when things look bad.

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That right or wrong, my little brother is there with me to hell and back.

That I have a beautiful baby girl who I love to the moon and back.

That even through down times, there are still people who care in this world, and that if you look hard enough, their love will help you through all of this.

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La Eterna Primavera

H

Benigno Escobar

ola, mi nombre es Benigno Escobar. Soy de Guatemala. Es un país muy lindo y hermoso, con sus ríos, lagos, montañas y volcanes. Allí nací yo, en la eterna primavera.

Quiero relatarles la historia que he vivido. Yo vengo de una familia pobre pero muy humilde. Soy muy afortunado, gracias a dios, por ser el número cinco de mis hermanos y hermanas.

Tengo tres hermanos (conmigo somos cuatro) y seis hermanas.

Mi vida no ha sido fácil pero tampoco imposible de vivir, aunque he batallado. He podido salir adelante gracias a mi dios. Ya que siempre ha cuidado de mi.

Yo quedé huérfano desde muy pequeño. Crecí con mis abuelos. Mis padres se separaron por cosas del destino. Mi padre que nunca lo conocí. Cuentan mis abuelos que desapareció sin saber nada de él. Yo estaba muy pequeño y no me di cuenta de nada. Apenas tenía un año de haber nacido.

Dice mi familia que mi madre, que en paz descanse, me dejó con los padres de ella. Mi abuela es como mi madre, porque ella me crió sola.

Dios sabe que lucha que tuvo para hacer que yo creciera. Mi madre, la que me trajo a este mundo, se fué del lugar de donde vivíamos para poder trabajar y poder ayudarles a mis abuelos a criarme.

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Gracias a dios yo iba creciendo. Cuenta mi abuela que un día estuve a punto de morirme porque me pego una infección en el estómago. Mi abuela lloraba por miedo a que no lo lograra y muriera pero gracias a dios pude sanar de esa enfermedad.

Cuando tenía seis o siete años empecé a ir a la escuela. Mis abuelos hicieron todo lo posible para comprar mis útiles. Mi abuelo trabajaba al máximo cuidando los ganados de un señor llamado Jorge y mi abuela Juana cuidaba la casa.

Mis tíos también trabajaban la tierra. Todos vivíamos muy unidos y feliz. Mi abuelo Máximo tenía una vaca lechera que cada mañana ordeñaba. Yo me iba con él antes de irme para la escuela.

Pasado el tiempo, sufrí mucho por mi abuelo porque otra vez me había quedado sin padre. Y mis tíos Benito y Marino tomaron la responsabilidad de la casa. Ellos me enseñaron a trabajar la tierra.

No me gustó mucho ir a la escuela. No más estudié tres años en a la primaria. Me gustó más trabajar la tierra que ir a estudiar.

Apenas tenía diez años. Casi nunca jugué. En mi tiempo libre trabajaba. Cuando quise jugar ya era grande.

En mi país es muy triste y muy pobre. Apenas ganas para tus alimentos del día, por eso muchos niños como yo no tienen niñez ni estudian. Yo cuando tenía doce años me salí de la casa de mis abuelos, pues necesitaba vestir y no tenía dinero.

Necesitaba un par de zapatos nuevos y no tenía como comprarlos. Me fui a buscar trabajo a otra parte y me encontré con un hermano de mi padre y él me ofreció trabajo. Trabajé tres o cuatro meses con él y luego vino Raimundo, un hijo de mi tío Antonio, y platicamos y dijo, “Qué haces aquí primo? Vamonos para la ciudad. Allá tengo trabajo para ti.”

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Y le contesté, “De verdad, Primo?” Me dijo, “De verdad, no te preocupes. Tu eres de los nuestros. Tu y yo somos primos somos familia. Yo no sabía qué tío Victoriano tenía hijo,” dijo él, pues Victoriano es el nombre del que fue mi padre.

Fue el fin de año, era navidad. Él había bajado de la ciudad a visitar sus padres en el rancho y ahí nos conocimos. Él tardó tres días con sus padres y bien recuerdo el 26 de diciembre, no recuerdo en qué año fue pero ese día me sentí feliz porque sabía que iba a tener dinero en mis propias manos como nunca lo había tenido. Ese 26 de diciembre me sentí motivado de poder viajar a la ciudad. Pero también no sabía qué hacer porque no conocía; nunca había salido a lugares grandes.

Yo nací en el rancho y allí iba creciendo pero ese dia me decidí irme y me fui sin saber nada de nadie, ni mis tíos donde crecí sabían de mi, ni mi abuela menos.

Mi madre, pues, ella ya tenía otro esposo y a vernos cada fin de año iba acompañada de su esposo y sus hijas. Yo no más lo veía cuando me salí de la casa de mi abuela. Nadie se dio cuenta, ni les dije nada, porque nadie estaba en casa.

Cuando regresaron, ya no me encontraron. Yo me desaparecí; seis o siete años y todo ese tiempo nunca me comunique con mi familia en eso entonces ni teléfono existía y si ya existía pero no había dinero para comprarlo.

Todo pasó muy rápido yo trabajaba allá en la ciudad con mis primos cuando un día llegó la esposa de mi tío Antonio, la mamá de mis primos. Yo trabajaba de seis de la mañana hasta las nueve o diez de la noche dependiendo de los clientes porque mi trabajo ya no era de cultivar la tierra sino trabajaba en una venta de pollo rostizados y por eso trabajaba todo el día. Salía un poco cansado pero ya después de 26

treinta a cuarenta minutos ya no sentía el cansancio. Para esa época estaba entre mis catorce o dieciséis años. Para mi no era cansado el trabajo. Ya cuando estábamos descansando, después de un buen baño, nos íbamos a jugar fútbol en la cancha con los primos y los demás que trabajaban ahí.

Todo era feliz para mi, yo viviendo mi vida alegre con dinero en mi bolsa. No me faltaba nada, todo lo tenía. Trabajaba solo para mi, no tenia pena de comprar comida o de lavar la ropa. Todo lo tenía. Mi primo compraba la comida, mi primo pagaba la lavada de ropa. Toda era vida para mi.

Luego, en el transcurso de tiempo, apareció la mamá de mi primo. Yo estaba trabajando y la saludé cuando la vi y ella se quedó mirando y me dijo, “¿Cómo has estado por aquí? ¿Cómo te ha ido?” “Pues, bien, gracias a dios,” le respondí. “Que bien,” dijo ella, con una mirada como con ganas de llorar. “Cómo has crecido tan rápido,” dijo. Le dije, “ya pasó casi siete años desde que nos vimos.” “Eso sí,” dijo ella y se decidió de mi. “Entonces,” me dijo, “Hablamos allá en la casa.

Tengo algo que contarte,” con una mirada triste. “Está todo bien?” le pregunté. “Sí, todo bien. No te preocupes,” me dijo.

Yo vivía en la casa de mi primo, pues él era mi patrón porque yo trabajaba para él. Cuando llegué a la casa de mi primo, después de bañarme, fui a la cocina de la casa y allí estaba mi tía, la esposa de mi tío, y me dijo, “¿Vas a, señor?” “Sí, claro, gracias,” le dije, pero me miraba así, con unos ojos muy preocupados, y le dije, “Tía, ¿usted está bien?” Me dijo, “Sí, estoy bien, gracias.” Luego le pregunté de mis abuelas de mi mamá de mi papá y la mama de mi mama. “Ellos están bien. Sí todo bien.” “Que bueno,” le dije. “Hace ya mucho tiempo sin saber de ellos.” “Sí,” me dijo. Entonces, me dijo, “Te traigo una mala noticia...Tu mama, la Juana…”

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Aunque yo no había crecido con ella pero me sentí preocupado por ella. “Está bien, ¿verdad?” le dije. “Sí,” me dijo. “No más que ella ya se quedó sola otra vez... y está preocupado por ti, pues no saben nada.

Ya te tienen como muerto porque no han sabido nada de ti.”

Y en eso entró mi primo a la cocina y dijo, “¿Qué piensas primo?” No quise recordar el pasado, pero le dije, “Mi familia me necesita.” Yo tenía casi diecisiete años. “Creo que me voy a ir a verlos. “Entonces, ¿te vas a ir?” “Yo creo que sí,” le respondí. “Entonces, te voy a pagar lo que yo te debo.” Y esa noche me pagó y le dijo la mamá de él, “Yo regreso mañana para el rancho. Nos vamos juntos y yo te dejo donde tu puedes agarrar el autobús.”

Yo no salía a la ciudad cuando estaba en el rancho y cuando salí ya no regresé hasta un largo tiempo, pues no conocía porque cuando me fui yo estaba muy pequeño, por eso no sabía cómo regresar.

El día siguiente por la mañana me dijo mi tía, “Nos vamos a las ocho de la mañana para que podamos a llegar a tiempo.” “’Ta bien,” le dije. Empaqué mi ropa en una mochila y salimos para la estacion del autobus. Nos subimos, caminamos en el bus unas cinco horas y luego bajamos porque teníamos que cambiar de transporte. Entonces me dijo mi tía, “Cuando nos bajamos te vas a ir tú en este bus porque va para el lugar donde tu mamá vive. Yo me voy en otro.” “’Tá bien,” le dije. “Aquí más o menos conozco.” Me recordé cuando apenas tenía siete ocho años salíamos a vender productos con mi abuela. Se me vino a la mente mi ninez otra vez. Me subía al autobús y le dije al conductor, “¿Este es el bus que va para Chiquirines?” Me dijo si. “Que bien. Yo voy para Valle Lirio.” “Dentro de treinta minutos salimos,” me dijo.

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Me acomode en un asiento y luego se puso en marcha. Para llegar a mi lugar eran dos a tres horas de camino. A llegar a mi destino me bajé y luego me fui caminando en busca de la casa de mi mamá.

Ya tenia mucho tiempo de que había estaba en ese lugar. Era difícil de encontrar porque había ido desde que era niño. Poco después encontré a unas personas y las pregunté que si me podía dar la dirección de la casa de mi mamá. Le pregunté por su nombre y me dijeron: “Vete derecho en esta calle y luego encontrarás una iglesia adventista; ahi preguntas y te van a decir donde ella vive.”

Seguí tal como la informaron ya casi llegaba a la iglesia cuando iba alguien en una bicicleta y cada vez que se iba acercando como que se me había parecido. Por fin nos encontramos con esa persona y le pregunté, “Discúlpame. ¿Tú conoces a una señora que se llama Juana Escobar?” y se me quedó mirando. “Sí. ¿Por qué? Y quién lo busca?” dijo. “Pues, ella es mi mamá y hace mucho tiempo que no la veo y la ando buscando.” En seguida, esa persona se bajó de la bicicleta y se puso a llorar.

Me abrazó y dijo, “¡Hermanito! Cuanto tiempo sin saber de tí. Soy Manuel, tu hermano.” Nos abrazamos y nos fuimos para la casa de mi mamá y cuando entró él a la casa todos estaban allí, mi mamá, mis hermanas y toda la familia porque ya se acercaba el velorio de mi padrastro.

Cuando me vieron me reconocieron y nos dimos muchos abrazos y besos. Lloramos de alegría y felicidad. Nos pusimos a platicar y todos felices porque había aparecido él que según ellos estaba muerto. Les conté donde me había ido y por donde estaba y lo que había pasado y cuál era mi trabajo. Todo pasó de repente.

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A los dos o tres años los volví a dejar otra vez. Esta vez porque me enamoré de una mujer muy hermosa, la que se convirtió en mi esposa. Con ella formé un hogar y tuvimos dos lindos niños y una niña muy hermosa mi: primer hijo se llama Sebastián, el segundo es Angel y mi linda y hermosa Karelin ella es la niña de mis ojos. Amo mucho a estas tres criaturas le doy gracias a dios por ese regalo tan hermoso que me a dado.

Aunque hoy me encuentro lejos de ellos siempre están en mi mente y en mi corazón. Me encuentro lejos por cosas del destino, solo mi dios lo sabe la razón y el motivo, pero estoy agradecido con mi dios por la oportunidad que me ha dado de ser papá. Que dios, padre y nuestro señor Jesucristo bendiga a cada uno que lee este libro.

La vida no está fácil, pero tampoco imposible cuando pones a dios por delante. Porque dios dice en su palabra vení a mi todo los que estan cansado y yo los daré descanso.

También dice cuando ustedes me buscan de todo corazón y me obedecen y los bendeciré en todo lo que hacen pero que sean cosa buena.

Pero si no lo obedecemos y no lo buscamos con todo el corazón y nuestra alma él nos destruirá por completo. Yo hoy en dia busco a dios con amor y necesidad para poder recibir bendición y no maldición, porque dios padre puede hacer lo que él quiere con nosotros. Somos creación de él porque polvo éramos desde la creación y polvo seremos.

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NAQUAN T. RICHARDSON

GUARDIAN ANGEL Living in California as a child growing up, I was blessed.

Whenever my dad tried to whoop me, our dog Precious would swoop in and save me. She protected me always when I got in trouble. My dad got so used to it, he used to pretend to whoop me just to get a reaction out of Precious. She never failed me; no matter how much trouble I got into, I always got saved. She was my protector.

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Memory Lane Everardo Garnica

W

hat can I really say about my life other than it wasn’t good or bad.

I am the oldest, the firstborn, and as they say when you do more bad than good, you become the “black sheep” of the family—that was me—but I was never like that.

I came from a struggling, strong-hearted, loving family that looked up to God and his son Jehovah. My father and mother both came to the “land of opportunity” for a better life for me, my brother Genaro, and my sister Janet.

I remember back in 2015. When on parole, I stayed with my Dad. He lived in a basement apartment by himself. My parents were no longer together, but that’s another story to tell.

I remember going to the storage room to get some blankets to sleep on the couch. There was a lot of clutter, folded tables, chairs, boxes, and etc. It’s crazy what I found. I was just in the storage room going through shit.

I stumbled upon my family’s albums. I thought that my mom had lost them and to my amazement I saw both albums on the shelves. I pulled up a chair and started to go through my family’s pictures, which I haven’t seen in IDK how long... years.

Just seeing the very first page really brought emotions I haven’t felt in a long time, but I felt heartbroken. The first pics was my mom holding me on her lap, it seemed like I was a year old, then seeing my brother and sister as kids.

I really felt some type of way. There was so much love back then. We were a happy family.

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I started to reminisce about the good ol’ times as a child. I couldn’t contain the tears from falling anymore. Growing up, we didn’t have the best of things in life. We only had each other. Every pic I came across had me and my family with the biggest smiles on God’s green earth.

We lived upstairs in a 2nd story apartment, like any other family that was just starting. My parents were hard workers. They worked day and night faithfully, because they wanted to move forward and give their children a better chance in life.

They were working a 9-5 at the minimum wage, which at the time was $5.00 an hour. I was happy with how they treated us. A true mom and dad which were dedicated in raising their kids.

The only real time I looked up to them, when they took us to the beach or to the movies, money for field trips. At the time I didn’t appreciate all they did for us.

And going to the park... yea, the good ol’ times when I was 10 years old. My family and I took a trip to Mexico. I can’t tell you how excited I was. It felt like an intense rush going through my body. Going somewhere where I’ve never been before. I was ready and so were my brother and sister. The experience of meeting our relatives and to know our culture was unforgettable.

This is the place where my mom and dad came from and by the look of it, it’s very poor. I see why they moved to the US and left their families behind, so one day they can return but to only visit and show how great they were doing. When we first arrived, we went to my grandma’s house on my dad’s side, where we met our cousins, uncles, and aunts for the first time, ever.

I can say they were really nice people. They showed us love and compassion, even prepared food for us when we first came, one of my favorite dishes, tamales, and tacos. After all the hugs and getting to know our family, when

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night fell, we took the bus to go visit my grandma’s house on my mom’s side.

Once we left the bus, we walked up a block and turned right. There were many people waiting for us, people I’ve never seen, cheering for my mom, saying, “Marisela, Marisela!”

It was my mom’s brothers and sisters and their kids. At the time I didn’t fully understand the full extent of the nature of someone not seeing their loved one in ten years. As we were walking up, my mom was the one leading us to the crowd of people. The first person she made contact with was her mother. They hugged, and what seemed like forever actually only lasted a minute. I’ve never seen my mom cry like that before, ever.

It wasn’t a visit anymore, it was a reunion of daughter and mother. After, my mom and dad introduced us. Me, my brother, and sister got a lot of hugs and kisses by our grandma. They made us feel special. They had so much love to share. I felt their hearts and it didn’t skip a beat.

As I went through both albums, I felt more anger than happiness. My body felt numb. I couldn’t believe myself. My parents fought hard to establish a family. They sacrificed everything for me! And this is how I repay them.

I thought about when I had started to change. It started to happen when I began to hit 8th grade, and high school didn’t make it any better. I was introduced to the gate of self-destruction, marijuana, the road of never going back. I started to stay out late, talking back to my parents, being disrespectful, always swearing, stealing.

WTF was wrong with me? They tried so hard to help me, but I just pushed them away. I didn’t realize how lucky I was for having both my parents in my life, caring for me, in the things I do, in where I go and who I hang with. I thought they were being too protective, too nosy. They started to feel more like cops than parents, always questioning me of my whereabouts. My mom was always the lead detective. What drugs I was on.

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Now I see my errors. I don’t want to blame the demons, I want to blame myself for allowing the demons to enter my life and giving them the upper hand, to control my thoughts. But in reality, I know it was all my fault.

The Devil has been misguiding people for thousands of years, and he is really good at what he does, at bringing me down. I quickly fell into his trap without even putting up a fight because I wanted to be a Bad Guy, but in the end it’s never worth it.

I’ve been told by many that I have heart and can go the distance, and no one can tell me otherwise. I fear none but God himself. He is the most merciful and if he wanted it, I’d be dead already. But I’m not, because he picked me to be his instrument for my kids, to bear witness to the words of God through me. But I first need to save my MFing self. My time is limited.

Who else to show them the righteous path, and know the downfall of being misled by others and time is running out? Who else, but me! Their father who already lived it. ...and these are the bits and parts of my life, the best part, it continues.

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The Things I've Lost M

Just in Hamilton

y childhood happiness in elementary school when every day I was bullied by the same guy.

My boyhood macho-ness when my cousin Joanna, who is an autistic female my age, beat up my bully in front of the whole school.

My successful future life when I joined a Latino gang.

My fear and respect for the law when I stood in a gangway with a .22 automatic rifle because I was so-called protecting my neighborhood and friends on the corner.

My grandfather’s respect when he got the call that his favorite star grandchild was arrested for having a gun in his van, which was impounded.

Almost my sanity when so many of my friends fell victim to the streets.

My hope and college scholarships when I was kicked out a few weeks before graduating. My school was on a HBCU college tour and my three roommates thought it would be funny and cool to buy BB guns to shoot people across the street from our hotel.

Faith in the justice system when the Chicago Heights gang unit charged me with a gun months later after hearing that I was joining the army.

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Love in myself and a career in the military when I took Adderall to pass my college finals, and went to Military Entrance Processing and it was found in my system.

My suicidal thoughts when Erica told me she was pregnant with our second child a few months after our first one passed away.

The feeling that I was alone when after multiple tries on multiple occasions, I put that gun to my head and pulled the trigger but nothing ever happened.

My self-worth and pride when I saw my perfect GPA slowly drop and I ended up dropping out of school because I could not balance being a scholar, father and working man.

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JUSTIN "KING" PAYNE

ER A hot Nashville summer night. It was unusually quiet. The normal hustle and bustle of Vandy Hospital was now a second home to me, but tonight was eerily quiet. As I make my rounds and tend to the few patients in the ER, the whole building comes alive! “Three inbound: one adult male, unresponsive; one adult female, stable; one toddler, also unresponsive; ETA 3 minutes,” the speaker blares out.

Everyone scatters like roaches. I take up post at the dock as the front bus arrives: the toddler. In an instant I’m on the gurney, trying to keep blood flowing into the little body: “Get me a fib! Get me a fib!” Thirty grueling minutes later, I had the joy of seeing a tiny body that was just so lifeless, seemingly empty, become so full, so vibrant, refusing to sit still for even the slightest moment.

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Road To Greatness La'Voy Brown

O

n my road to greatness, I think the GPS was broke. I’ve had plenty of mishaps. I like to think of them as vehicle breakdowns.

I’ve had flats, windshield cracks, and spin outs, but I always get back on the road. No matter what, I keep going.

Now as I sit in Cook County Jail, I feel I’ve blown my engine. The only thing that means is I’m off the road for a little time.

But I’ll be back on my way to greatness.

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My Aunt

N

Rehomore Romello Lee Spivey

ow I know I got to live life without you.

Every Sunday I came to see you, and you told me why you love me so much: “Everything I do for you is out of love.”

I ask myself, why you ain’t tell me, out all people, that you was sick?

Now I get it. Because you knew it would hurt me so much, knowing you was about to leave me. I think you was right for not telling me, because I would’ve been fucked up if you told me. I’m in here and can’t do nothing about it. I love you so much, Aunt. If it was up to me, I would go for you.

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Had It All A. Duckins

Y

ou always will have wants: rims, cars, music, and outfits. One of the things I found out is that I did have everything—good kids, a nice truck, a nice job, and a nice apartment. I had it all and didn’t even know it.

People: the people I know and friends I hang out with don’t think like me.

Some good; they have nice jobs and take care of their families. I’m with them most of the time because I don’t have to worry about the police. Some are bad, with guns and sell drugs; we all meet up in parks to BBQ or smoke or sometimes at each other’s house to watch the football game or play NBA 2K for money. We don’t always see eye to eye, but I love them anyway.

Love: I should not be a sucker for love. I hate I love easy, and gave women a chance, and they used me for money or a place to stay. Believe it or not, some just wanted to be with me only for lust. I found that you can’t just look for a good mother or because they have a good job, that it could work and they can still be crazy; you have to look for compatibility.

Myself: I have to love myself first. I didn’t know that would be so hard because I was busy loving someone or something else—my family, my job, and my friends. I always put them first and put me second or third; I just want to be a better me.

Life: it’s harder than hard. You have to play the cards you are given. I lost my job, my apartment, and my truck, but I will rise above this and still smile when I get my new job or my old one back. Buy me a house and get my lawsuit, because payback is a bitch and I’m always a winner.

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YAM D. IBANEZ

SCANDALOUS It was a Saturday night. Looking for something to do, remembering I had passes for two to an event. Calling my friend Arturo, I convinced him to make the trip. Entering this building as lights shined onto it, looking as if it was a movie theater inside and out. We walked up to the cashier. I gave her my brother’s military ID and Arturo hands his, along with the two passes. You could hear the music from the entrance.

As we walked through the hallway, it got louder. At the end of the hallway, our eyes widened, both looking at each other: we made it.

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Jail Folks Ain't Crazy Fa t b o y “ Z ”

J

ail folks ain’t crazy

They’re just as smart as the COs They put on the best facade They create, they survive They’re powerful, emotionally and mentally They’re persuasive and manipulative They know, they learn, they grow Jail folks ain’t crazy They’re just as smart as the COs

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Hey Beautiful Julius Francellno

H

ey beautiful,

It’s Daddy. I’m writing you this letter to let you know that I love you.

Don’t ever let anybody tell you different. You are the apple of my eye, my motivation, and my heartbeat forever and always. I got some things I want to teach you, in case I never get to. Listen closely.

1. When you grow up, you can be anything you want to be. If you put your mind to it, you can do it, you just have to believe. Everybody won’t believe in you though, so you have to believe in yourself.

2. Pick your friends wisely, these girls will envy you because you’re pretty. They will smile in your face and stab you in the back when you’re gone.

3. You can always tell if a person is lying by their change in behaviour and their avoidance of running into you. Pay it no mind, keep shining bright like the diamond you are.

4. Don’t ever let anyone (man, woman, Mom, Dad, etc.) call you a bitch.

5. Never accept a man putting his hands on you, no matter how much you love him.

6. Love hard and genuine, but love smart to protect your heart, ’cause Daddy would hate to have to beat up your boyfriend.

7. Always keep your word. Don’t do things for people to receive things in return. Do it out of love, or the kindness of you.

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8. Remember these 5 principles for life: Love, Truth, Peace, Freedom, and Justice. They will get you far.

9. Please get your degree. Focus on your future and not your present situation.

10. Always keep your hygiene up.

11. Keep feminine wipes with you always. (Nini will explain that to you.)

12. Never sit on a public toilet. We’ve got sensitive skin, you’ll break out down there... lol.

13. Last but not least: Allow God to lead the way. He is your protector, guidance, and salvation by night and by day, through his son, Jesus Christ.

14. Oh, and pray every day. It keeps the stress away.

Daddy loves you always and forever, mama. I’m away now, but no matter how far I am, I will always be there with you every step of the way.

Sincerely, Daddy

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A Note To The Real Purpose

W

Tr e v o r Ro b i n s o n

hat up my boy? I ain’t seen you since I was a shorty, and I ain't thought about you since 2009 when my friends started dying. That's when I started to lose my way, living day to day. It took for me to be sitting in the Cook County Jail fighting firstdegree murder to remember you was the reason I jumped in the street life.

You were my motivation to want better, but I got sidetracked by BS, and the messed-up part is that the younger generation jumping into the street life will never know you exist. They will never know about doing what it takes to get their family out of the hood, because they pick up a gun before they make some money. But that's not their fault, it's mine and the people before me.

I forgot about you and forgot to teach them about you, and now they will never know the real purpose. But I’m back on track. I put the BS to the side and I’m focused on my family, my mother, my father, little brother, big brother, my kids, and nieces and nephews. My real purpose. The people I love the most.

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“COWBOY” D.D. SMITH

OUTSIDE Being locked up makes you see outside totally different. Just to smell the sunlight, cut grass, to feel the sunlight making your face hurt.

To hear cars, trucks, and buses on the streets. Looking in the sun as the cloud blocks it out. Seeing the seed in the air from the cotton trees.

I really miss outside. I know I’ll never be locked up again.

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Campbell D'Angelo Garcia

I

love dogs, but I wasn’t trying to have one. I didn’t want to clean up after it. But then my girl’s cousin gave me 5 puppies. I sold 4 but kept the biggest one, the light gold one. He was the only one a different color.

As a puppy, Campbell always did weird stuff—climbing on the bed, peeing on the blanket. So I ended up trying to sell him. I took him to my brother’s house. I rode the CTA from Kedzie to Halsted. I put Campbell in my Timberland bookbag. I had a stack of money and a gun, because I had to go through a lot of neighborhoods to get to his house.

My brother asked me where the dog was. I opened the bag and the puppy popped out. Then my brother saw the money was wet. The dog threw up in my bag. I waited around all day while my sister-in-law washed the bag. My brother decided he didn’t want the dog. So I put him back in the bag and got back on the bus.

Two years later he was no longer a puppy. I was in my truck with the door open. He knocked my girl down jumping over me to sit down next to me in the front seat. Ready to ride.

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A Note To The Real Purpose Trevor Robinson

I

always wanted to change my name, but I never knew to what. I always knew it was going to be different, something that stands out and represents my alter ego. The person I am when I’m in my mode. You know, when I’m feeling myself. The person the normal me hates, because I do stupid shit that makes the normal me tell people: “If you have a problem with me because of something I did when I was feeling myself, take it up with me when I’m in my mode. At this time I’m not him, and I can’t be held responsible for his actions. Thank you.”

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LA'VOY BROWN

BIKE RIDE As kids, we were riding bikes to the beauty supply on a hot summer day, me and my friend, to get white tees. As I watch the bikes, the police keep riding past. So we take off toward the house, and as we come off the trail, we hear: “Freeze! Put the bikes down.”

Cops stopped us and said we fit the description of guys who robbed a payday loan store. They took us to the police station, where we stayed all day into the night, until they finally accepted we were just kids, much younger than the description given. We didn’t get our new t-shirts that day, or any apology.

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The Things I Wish I'd Lost W

Fa t b o y “ Z �

ish I lost

These memories Being put in that police Tahoe in 2015 The processing into Juvenile The wicked smile my lead detective Had on his face The first cell I slept in For my first two weeks The day I got indicted The look on my lawyer face

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When she found out my age The transfer to the County The jailhouse attempt I caught The days in the hole The holidays I missed The birthdays I missed So I guess the last 4 years of my life

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Two Dreams Chris Villegas

C

an’t sleep, woke up, is this a dream? Feels real, could feel everything, that makes it real. Can’t sleep, wake up, bad dream. Can’t say what it was, but am going to say this: trying to respect people that are older than me, but can’t ’cause they don’t respect back. This is a cold world, some people are lost, some are almost there to figuring shit out. I turned my head to the Bible, God says, “Feed your enemies and God will come your way.”

Trying to make this money, got niggas hating on me. All I’m trying to do is stay positive, but all this negativity around me, making me think of letting myself go and getting lost to this system. But can’t, been here too long. No problems, they lookin’ for me tho. Am I dreaming?

Been gone so long, so long trying to find my way back home, can’t sleep, wake up. Still dreaming, this is a bad nightmare, can’t wake myself up. Got a fucking demon inside me, he don’t want to come out. I’m fucking dreaming, am I stuck in this bad dream? Need God to wake me up, but wait, I can’t sleep, wake up, wake up. My dreams are starting to change, I see it now, smiling now, see my two baby girls playing with each other in the front yard of our new house. We’re a happy family, I see it now. This dream is changing again, still dreaming I feel like a cold chill, everything just went black. I see the fucking demon coming for me, can’t have a good look at the demon, trying to stay on God’s path. Wait, can’t walk no more, something holding me back, looking back now, the fucking demon holding me back.

I start to free fall, I see the ground, BOOM! Am I still dreaming? Wake up, wake up, wake up.

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• • • • • Can't sleep, woke up in this dream, I could see a white light. Should I walk to it or not? Sleep, wake up, bad dream. Can’t say it, but I’ma say this: trying to respect this world, the young and the old, can’t though ’cause they don’t respect back. This world don’t got respect no more, so this world need some saving. We all got to turn our heads to the Bible, in Revelation 22:6-21, Jesus is coming soon, brothers and sisters, so save yourself. Trying to help the youth but I’m locked up. Trying to make this money, this society got me locked up though. All this negativity, can't stay positive. Want to take the death penalty? No, don't want to ’cause I got two beautiful girls waiting for me to come home. Problems around, don’t care about those problems, got God with me. Can't sleep, wake up, still dreaming, this is a bad nightmare.

Can’t sleep, wake up, wake up, can't wake myself up. Demons hiding inside me. Just like the Imagine Dragons song “Demons”...

He’s hidden, and can't find him to get him out. I’m fucking dreaming, am I stuck in this bad dream? Need God to get this demon out and wake me up, but wait, I can't sleep! Wake up, wake up, wake up. My dreams are changing.

I see Aliyah, she’s happy, calling me Dad. She's about to be three years old, I don't want her to see cry but it makes me human. My dreams are changing. I see the demon now, could get a closer look. Wait, it’s got white wings, it's an angel to look over me and guide me in God’s path. Wait, can’t walk no more, someone holding me, it’s my baby girl, Aliyah. I am holding her now, crying happy tears now to be with her. Don't want to wake up, but I can’t sleep, am I still dreaming? I see nothing but white around me, now I hear a loud BOOM! Wake up, wake up, wake up.

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“COWBOY� D.D. SMITH

15 AND 1 I remember the year the Bears won the Super Bowl, 1985. I watched every game but one. I remember feeling bad and thinking to myself: If I had watched the whole game they

wouldn't have lost it. But, I had to help my cousin move into her new store on the Northside of Chicago. Me and my cousin had to keep running back to the corner store to see the score. One minute the Bears were up; the next, they were down. In the end we lost to Miami. Chicago only lost one game that season, because I missed watching one game.

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Catching The Vapors B r a n d o n Yo u n g

B

ack in the day, I was frowned upon by the neighbors because I was a little boy who ran around in the prairie catching snakes and shooting possums, raccoons, and jackrabbits. One in particular lived next door and wouldn’t let her daughters and son play with me, and called me a dirty little monster. Then one day I came home from school to see that lady’s daughters and son outside scared to death, I mean literally terrified, because a possum had somehow gotten inside their home.

So I went into our house and retrieved my BB gun, a baseball bat, and a laundry bag, and went into their house unafraid. I pumped my BB gun up 20 times, located the possum, trapped it behind a sofa, moved the sofa, then shot the possum and beat it unconscious with the bat. I came out with the dead possum in a bag as their mother was pulling up in her car. While her daughters were thanking me for rescuing them, their mother told me how grateful she was for helping her kids. She allowed them to socialize with me after that and bought me a bow-and-arrow set for Christmas that year. I am grateful that I was in a position to help them, but I never thought I would be rewarded with presents and, more importantly, friendship.

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The Things I've Lost

M

Victor R.

ost of my memories, naturally as time, passed by. My favorite Iron Man toy, which made me realize how emotional I can get. My little yellow book of trading cards. I never really knew what happened to it. A dollar at the age of 7 or 8 that I had won from my cousin for drinking half a bowl of hot sauce, that left my throat burning. My mom for the first time, when she left for Mexico after her father died, leaving us to ourselves. She left without properly figuring out in what condition we were going to be.

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The Day I Fell In Love Daryl E. Williams

I

t was a hot summer day. I was riding in my two-door Cutlass Supreme that I got from my Uncle Dee. The police had me pulled over on 51st between Carpenter and Aberdeen. I remember it like it was yesterday.

You was riding past in a four-door white Grand Prix.

I looked up and seen you. I had been dropping my guy Molly off at home so many nights, and I always told him to get your number for me, but you know how he plays. So that day when you were riding past, I told you to meet me on the block, they finna let me go and I need to talk to you.

It had been almost nine years since the last time we seen each other.

The last time I remember seeing you was at my Uncle Dee’s crib. We were young, but I still had the same feeling that I have for you now. So when you met me on Carpenter and we talked, I fell in love with you all over.

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TREVOR ROBINSON

SLOWIE & CRAZY: AFTER EVERY CALL Let me make a mental note so I can win next time: Even doe I know she not gone go for none of that, I won’t be me if I still don’t try. I guess I’m like this because I hate to lose.

If I really think about it, I ne’er really lose if I let her win. I just feel stupid at the end, but that’s OK. If I let her win, I still win because hopefully she is happy after her victory. As long as she is happy, I get what I want. So I still win times ten.

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Lost World I

Ya m D . I b a n e z walk into the strip club “Hey want a dance?”

I walk into the liquor store

“Hey buddy! Back again.”

I walk into the bar

“What’s up? The usual.”

I walk in late at home

“Where the hell you been?!”

I walk in late to work

“You’re fired!”

I walk the dog

Who’s walking who?

I walk into the party

“Corona or Modelo?”

I walk past hell

“Come back.”

I walk into church

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I ask God for forgiveness

Bullpen Fa t b o y “ Z ”

T

he steel sliding doors jerk when they’re all the way open. I can already smell the bologna-and-piss mixture coming from the bullpen. As I walk to the back, I take notice of everyone: Damn, that's a lot of old men in here. I put my back to the wall in the back of the bullpen.

I wonder: How can these men sleep on these cold-ass benches? Why are all these dumbass flies in here? Hmm, are they the same ones from last month?

“Division 11, listen up! Juves! Vasquez, Wilson, Perez, let’s go!”

Damn, I wish I was in 11. I can’t wait to get back on deck. I’m tired as fuck of being in Division 8.

“Listen up! Williams, Gonzalez, Allen, Zamora!”

What the fuck?! Zamora is me but they’re talking to someone in Division 11. This man on the bench looks familiar. I don't know why I’m so fascinated by him but I can't find a word to say. I wonder: Why did they put me on the Division 8 list?

The man leaves the bullpen and I see my brother’s name tattooed on his neck: Oh shit.

When my dad get so short?

• • • • • 61

I talked to my mom the other day. I ain't tell her we ain’t recognize each other from a can of paint. It would’ve broke her heart if she learned we just went our separate ways, but I’m going to keep it 100.

I ain’t really have shit to say and I still got that broken promise. It's patched up with tape. Here comes a Division 10 CO, so I better be on my way. Oh yeah, before I go... my nigga, Happy Father’s Day.

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The Things I've Lost Rome Cox

M

y birth certificate and Social Security card in ’99, while on my way to get a summer job, moving too fast, eagerly wanting to have extra money for my vacation. Put me in a state of worrying who would be the lucky person to have a new identity to do whatever with.

Five dollars in ’93 that I accused my older cousin of stealing, until I found it in my secret Paper Boy cartridge hiding spot. The dog that I found two hours later, after I claimed it to be mine, once my sister noticed it in our backyard.

The authority to cook at home after almost burning our apartment up twice. My ’84 Monte Carlo Luxury Sport, that I must admit damn near brought me to tears as I watched the person who stole it drive off down the street, which led to a nice amount of self-pride due to relying on public transportation to get back home.

Most memories of my early childhood since the moment we moved to the South Side, claiming our newfound territory as home. The previous and innocent kisses from the girl next door due to being so far away, along with the ability to enjoy my long walks home with my older brother and sister, a journey I considered to be adventurous since I was able to fully listen in on their daily activities that were intriguing because of our age difference.

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The sense of being a teenager at the age of sixteen in 2001, when I unexpectedly found out I’d be a father before my eighteenth birthday.

My freedom two months later, for the next seven months. The outcome of buying a truck without a title, the true definition of being thirsty to ride in style.

In the winter of ’97, a Reebok sports bag while at basketball practice.

An injustice resulting from jealousy that left me coatless, with no proper clothes to get home in until my father came to my rescue. My naiveté as well, once I realized envy actually existed in the world on all levels.

My temper in 2004: it was behind my being too egotistical in the harsh inner-city streets of what’s now typically known as Chi-Raq. Making me involuntarily void half my twenties in confinement, a mishap that ruined my love and respect for the streets.

The notion to become a professional basketball player when I dropped out of high school, which is around the same time I became slightly demoralized. Characteristics I quickly outgrew the instant I became a man.

Oh yeah... the fight with Jason, who lived across the street from me in ’94, which was crazy because he never actually threw or landed a punch.

But I considered it a win on his behalf since he left me drenched in my own blood by biting a nice chunk of skin out of my face.

The chance to properly tell my father I loved, honored and cherished his worth dearly before he parted ways with this Earth in 2009, along

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with the chance to tell my mother the same before she parted ways in 2014. Two people who devoted themselves to me beyond all circumstances.

A sense of pride and patriotism for this country due to what it has become. Or shall I say, the invisible veil that shielded me from the reality of this land that rightfully belongs to its Natives.

Last and most important, my heart, devotion and complete existence, which I lost to Laryia, Larry and Larriel the instant I looked at each of them in their eyes. Something that’s overall worth losing to me.

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CODEON INGRAM

FOR MY KIDS On the West side of Chicago 290 shit, Humboldt Park. Fresh out of the penitentiary off a bid of 23 months. Gotta get to it fast, seeing that I only got the clothes on my back and my children’s birthdays are next month, August and September.

I say a prayer to God before I get my feet wet, asking him to watch over me and keep safe on my journey. A month later, God answered my prayers. I’ve survived through throwing rocks at the penitentiary, helping me give my baby boy the birthday he wants. September comes and God still has kept me safe, answering my prayers for my daughter, Patricia, to have a beautiful birthday as well.

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All The Same A

Robert Hill

re they all the same?

From someone who is disrespectful, confused, self-centered, lost, badgered, and misunderstood... I would always say, because of the letdowns, disappointments in them all, even family: “They’re all the same, don’t let your guard down, don’t trust them.

They’ll hurt you.”

I hurt her though very bad, cheated, misused, and disrespected her.

Took advantage of her, then I collect call her for years. She visits me every week. The sound of her voice makes me happy. To hear the words “I love you, I’ll never leave you baby, forever is forever” has me questioning myself, my understanding, my heart.

They can’t all be the same.

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Lifeline Daryl E. Williams

I

t’s crazy. I call this 312 number almost every day after 5pm because you work a lot. I feel like sometimes I have to let you know how much I love and appreciate you, but also to put money on my books to buy this highass food!

You don’t know it, but your words are like a daily prayer that uplifts me and lets me know I have a purpose on this earth. You’re so strong; you carry me and my family, Lucy and her family, and Brittany on your back, and don’t even show it.

I know how stressful it is, but your baby brother is here to let you know that I love you. Your family loves and needs you. Thanks for being our lifeline.

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Life Here Naquan T. Richardson

I

was never one for words

I could never finish a sentence without a curse The fucks I gave have all been given I’ll always remember the smell of this Division Industrial grey with a helping of “no one cares” Never showing your emotions While we’re all alone in this ocean of hope and despair Working out your about-face While you watch others go to waste Afraid of becoming another statistic Fuck, this place is sadistic I don’t know how long I can stick it Man, I miss shit!

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TERRELL L. SMITH

MY LAST BACKFLIP 1996 NBA Championship game: Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls defeated the Utah Jazz. I was living with my Aunt Ada on Central and Potomac. I must have been about 10 years old at the time. Me and my first cousins Tim and RuRu ran outside to cheer and celebrate with the rest of the city. Me and my older brother David were known for tumbling, and we often performed back and front somersaults when compelled. Excited, I attempted a backward somersault and landed on my head. My cousins still haven’t stopped laughing and I’m 32 years old today.

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The Things I've Lost Daniel Aguilar

M

y house, when I was just at a young age, because my parents couldn’t keep up with the bills to pay, and then we had to go to a hotel until we got back on our feet. My wallet at a liquor store when going to get some items, and I was holding my mom’s money in the wallet.

A basketball game at the park that I was playing with a handful of my friends. One of my friends that was caught up in the streets and let it get the best of him, and got booked for a mistake but will be out soon in 2020.

Hopes of me coming home, because I really don’t know what these people have in store for me, but I keep my head held high and keep my faith. The chance to finish high school, but I was being lazy and not showing up, so they dropped me out. My kids, because I’m locked up and now I can’t be there for them like I should be, and it breaks my heart. My bike on a nice summer night, while riding to one of my friends’ house to give him his CD back that he had let me use during the day. The mother of my kids, because I wasn’t there for her how I should’ve been there, when she really needed me.

Childhood memories, like back when my father used to tell me the story about the man with the golden arm. A baseball game that I was playing when I was younger, but you can’t win them all—you win some and you lose some. Most important thing that I’ve lost, and means so much to me, is my little baby sister that passed away 11 years ago, but I know she is in a better place called heaven. I’ll never forget about her; she will always be in my heart ’til the day I die.

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Green Eyes

D

Ya m D . I b a n e z

riving through the desert night, I see the full moon and the stars shining bright. My brother and dad sleeping, music playing quietly. Drinking my Coke and eating my sunflower seeds.

Watching the road closely, passing sign after sign: Caution Elk Ahead.

I take off cruise control to take full control of the car. I’ve never seen an elk on the road and would hate to see one now. Driving through the mountains, I notice something from a distance. Releasing the gas pedal, I turn on my high beams to get a clear look, for I only see a glare of green eyes, as if they’re trying to make eye contact with me.

Whatever it is, it’s showing no fear as it calmly, fearlessly crosses the road. The closer I get, I assure myself it's no elk, it’s smaller in size. I try to imagine what it could be, but by the time I reach it and pass it, it stands at the edge of the opposite lane. Brown, short, stocky-headed, it turns and looks at me. I look into my rearview mirror at its green eyes—still reflecting off the lights—in surprise of what I had just seen.

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FATBOY “Z”

THE ACCIDENTAL RIGHT ANSWER One day I was walking home with my girlfriend. We were having a conversation about what we were gonna do later when we chill. At the time I was a freshman in high school, so obviously I wanted her to come to my house. I had been trying to convince her for a while to go over so we could get wild. She wasn’t trying to hear it until she accidentally misheard me, and she thought I said, “I love you.” She wind up going home with me, and every day after she came home with me when I asked.

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The Things I've Lost Ty k a r i B .

M

emories, as time passes by, not ’cause I’m careless, but most memories don’t last. Names of ex-girlfriends that I used to have, not that they didn’t matter; it’s ’cause time passed and I forget names. My mother in 2013, when the doctors pulled the plug.

Multi-colored diamond earrings over at a girl’s house after a one-night stand.

The smoke-gray ’89 Grand Prix for speeding and driving with no license, and a white ’92 Bonneville for no license. That was 18 years ago and I still got no license. Money from being naïve enough to give it to older family members for their drug habits. Pain and also security when I was old enough to know I would never have my parents in my life; I was 18 when I finally realized that.

The magic of love when the woman I loved left me in 2013 with no explanation and no closure. A peaceful life when I was forced to provide for myself and become a man before my adolescence, exposed to the street life of pimping hos, drug dealing, and gang affiliation. My daughter when she was twelve and her mom took her away. Self-worth since as far as I can remember.

The chance to become a rapper in 2003, when I didn’t make any money doing music. My first mixtape and recorded songs on a CD called the Camp Click Mixtape Vol. 1. My gold chain with the globe charm that

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said, “The world is mine,” when I was jacked one night when two cars full of guys was looking for their enemies to kill.

My freedom when I was put in a situation when I became a victim of circumstance, when I had to defend myself to prevent a man from taking my life. Some friends and family since I’ve been locked away.

Contact with the outside world because of incarceration.

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Surprise!

“C owb oy ” D. D. S m ith

S

itting here locked up, reminiscing about things from my past... One time my cousin from Cleveland told me about his girlfriend he’d met from Montgomery, the same place where I was living. Telling me her nickname, and asking if I knew her. I told him, “No, I don't know her.” I was 15 at the time.

Two years later my cousin moved to Montgomery. He asked me about looking up his girlfriend. This time he used her real name. I recognized it but I was thinking, This can’t be. I said, “Ok Cuz, I’ll come get you.”

After picking him up, he started telling me about her, and asked me if I knew her. In my mind, I was like, Do I? I said, “Yes! Yeah, she lives on the west side by me.” He said, “That's great, Cuz. I want to surprise her.” I didn’t say anything but yeah, it was going to be a big surprise.

So when we pulled up to the house, I told him to stay in the car so that she couldn’t see him, because I had tinted windows. I rang the bell. She opened the door, and I asked her to come outside to meet my cousin. She said, “Okay, let me fix my hair,” and closed the door.

I told my cousin to hurry and come to the door.

My cousin was standing next to me when she opened the door, and I said to her, “I’d like you to meet my cousin!”

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He said, “Surprise!” She took one look at him and slammed the door in both of our faces.

Come to find out, my cousin’s girlfriend had ended up being my girlfriend.

Small world, huh?!

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M. JORGENSEN

CORPORAL PUNISHMENT Crack! Crack! The shell shattered in half against the glass, and with a sinister look flushed red against his face, he searched with a hand to discover another, plucked it out of the carton, and poured its raw contents into the tumbler. Time stood still while sweat poured over me. Panic set in as I watched the milky entrails enter that abyss with such proficiency, blinded by the brightness of the vibrant orange yolk as it flowed out of the shell and lay dormant at the bottom.

One of the scariest moments of my life. Eleven years old and petrified to face my father after not finishing my breakfast.

I would cringe at even the sight of eggs for the next twenty years.

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Chicken Soup

I

Yam D. Ibanez

was only a year and a half old when I lost my first fight. Sadly it wasn't to a human.

Thing is, I loved to go outside and play with the animals that we owned. I would chase them all over the place, especially the baby chickens. I felt tough being able to pick up the baby goats and carry them around.

But, there came a day when I really pissed one of the chickens off. I never expected the little bastard to retaliate, catching me off guard, and whoop my ass.

That day I was outside playing, running around chasing the baby chickens. All of a sudden, whack, down on the ground I go. Panicking, crying for help. I got back up slowly. My mom came out to find me being chased, getting attacked. She grabbed me, making sure I’m ok.

I felt bad that we got rid of my feathered friends, because my mom was worried “El Gallo” would attack me again. I guess you could say El Gallo won the battle but lost the war.

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The Things I've Lost

T

Alonzo Redditt

he blue Mongoose bike that was taken from our garage, which left me to ride my sister’s pink Barbie bike, back when I was 11. The game-winning shot I didn’t make, that left my hands like my sixth-grade teammates leaving the gym with their heads low.

The blue-and-black Jordans that my mom forced me to stop wearing.

My first basketball that rolled in the street and got rolled over in 2007. The gold chain my father bought me that led to a thousand questions from him and my mother. The keys to my house when I didn’t want to wear the keychain around my neck in 2001. In 2010, when my mother took all my Christmas presents back because of my progress report. Back in 2013, when the love of my life passed away, my granny. The plastic crate on the light pole, back in 2007, that upgraded to the perfect rim. My football cards that was stolen from my locker in fourth grade from me trying to be a show-off. My temper when my sister came home crying, saying that she had gotten into a fight. In 2015, when my GS Regal was taken by the police for speeding through a stop sign without no license. In 2016, when I wrecked my G20 van from dozing off behind the wheel and hit a parked car. My right-hand man in 2017, passed away from a bullet to the head and chest, which left me cold inside. My great-grandparents, which ripped our family apart in 2012.

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