Writers’ Workshop Essays

Editor’s Note: Each Friday morning at 10 a.m., The Stewpot hosts a Writers’ Workshop. During the sessions, participants address selected topics through prose or poetry. In this edition of STREETZine, we feature the essays of writers that explore the effects of incarceration.

The Night That Changed My Life Forevermore

By Larry Jackson

In my senior year of high school, my life was about to take a major turn. My grandmother told me later that she was troubled and praying that night. On this late Saturday night, I was in full party mode. The Class of 1979 was in the Brick House Nightclub. The DJ was playing one hit after another. The dance floor was packed to standing room only. The ladies were dancing and showing a great deal of fun. Truly, we were all in the mix.

After a short break in the action, I decided where my next dance would come from in the nightclub — right in front of me at the next table. I had no knowledge that the young lady had just finished an argument with her boyfriend. Just about this time, the DJ played the dance song Atomic Dog. My favorite dance song was blasting in the place. It was my time to make a move.

Boys are going to be boys, so I asked her for the next dance. My answer came from an angry boyfriend. Now I was having words with this guy. Girls and guys, music and fun, what more could happen? Quickly arrangements were made to fight it out.

Now I had started down the fast lane that would lead to the Mississippi Department of Correction. This thing escalated so fast.

Now I had started down the fast lane that would lead to the Mississippi Department of Correction. This thing escalated so fast. A person could end up losing his life in return. My next date would be the county jail. From there to the courthouse. Next in line, Parchman Mississippi State Prison. Restitution had to be paid by this new resident.

A future with promise changed

Wait! Pump the brake! This has to be a dream! A future with so much promise had changed. The jail stay and court appearance had come and gone. The sentence the judge gave was real: 15 years. The voice of my grandfather echoed in my ear, “Stop the crying. You have to be a man.”

Three weeks later, I woke up in the middle of the night. I walked to the jail cell door and felt the nine pounds of steel. Yes, only one tear fell from my eye. The truth of the matter, it wasn’t a dream.

Now I started the preparations for the journey ahead of me. My daily routine would seriously change. My everyday lifestyle had to modify. My physical presence had to be addressed with more exercise and pushups. My physical strength had to be key on a daily basis. Also very much important was my spiritual health and standing, drawing from my values in life. The first book I read cover to cover was the Holy Bible.

Self-preservation was the law of this land. A good work habit would power the engine. After a few months with everything in place, surviving the prison system of the Mississippi Department of Correction was my challenge.

Self-preservation was the law of this land. A good work habit would power the engine.

Parchman, my new state of residence, brought a new lifestyle change. Trouble here would come a lot easier. Things could go wrong very fast. Keeping busy would have to play its part through work and volunteering. These two alone would create good opportunities. At any given time, a person’s manhood could be challenged. The crisis of life at any prison was always waiting. Settling your problem has to be dealt with immediately. Fighting your own battle was always on display.

My work spoke for itself. Again, my work habit carried me all over camp. My many work tasks and volunteer efforts caught the eyes of the prison staff. Favor was my best friend. I found pleasure in working in camp support, gardening duties, clean-up, and the basic upkeep of my camp.

Surely, prison life is filled with drawbacks. Your legacy is based on your action.

Surely, prison life is filled with drawbacks. Your legacy is based on your action. The first is the inmate: He follows the rules and works his own way out. Second is the seasoned con: He makes life hard for everybody around him. Then there is the career criminal: Institutionalized, he’s the revolving door, in and out of prison.

Working my way home

Through it all, I was on my way home. My every effort was about to pay off. The lieutenant called me to the front desk, calling me by my prison name, Jack. The lieutenant asked me a question. He went on, “I have noticed your work in and around this camp. But you’ve never asked me for nothing. What do you want, Jack?” I said, “Lieutenant, I want to be on the other side of those tracks without those dogs being behind me.” The lieutenant smiled and went about his work.

Shortly after that, my work duties changed. Now I was working outside the front gate, around the guard shack and in the camp garden. I had a free run of the camp. I was placed apart of the four-man groundskeeping team. I was called out. It was time to cut the lieutenant’s lawn. Guess what? The lieutenant lived outside of those tracks without the dogs.

I was amazed after finishing my task for the day when the lieutenant pulled me to the side and handed me some work-release papers. He instructed me to have my family get me a job in the free world.

My path that went through prison life was a lesson I would never forget.

About a month later, my journey to get back home was in full progress. My path that went through prison life was a lesson I would never forget. Also, this experience in prison life added respect and character to my life. Truly, this was a life-changing experience.

The Suprise I Found in Prison

By Mike McCall

The world is constantly changing and we must change as well to survive. For humans, change is not easy and often painful.

Those of us who cross the line into illegal activity experience a forced change once we are caught. Individuals lose friends, family, finances, and freedom. They are left with one critical choice: Use your time incarcerated as an opportunity to change.

When my deviant activity finally caught up to me, I was a shadow of a man. Having stepped over the line, I wasn’t in control of my own life. My addictions and criminal activity dictated my every move. There were only two ways to alter my course and I am extremely grateful it was handcuffs instead of a hearse.

You lose everything when you get locked up. The only choice left is how you do your time. Ironically, getting locked up can be your first taste of personal freedom. Your basic needs are taken care of so you are free to do some exploration of self. During this time, your opportunity to change unveils itself and your environment allows you to build on this foundation.

I used my time in prison to read and stay out of the way. Before my incarceration, I hated reading. Viewing my time as an opportunity to change, I started reading every day. Upon my release, I was reading around 300 pages a day — and loved it.

Developing that skill has now made going to college something I can achieve. I am a straight-A student and on my way to a degree thanks to the positive change I embraced behind bars. Being incarcerated turned out to be a blessing for me.

I was so caught up in the streets and that method of surviving that I had lost all hope. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that hope was in a book behind concrete walls.

Taking away my freedom allowed me to build a life worth living and opened my eyes to the man I could be.

Mike McCall is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Transition from Incarceration

By Jason Turner

The day I was released from Harris County jail on probation for a forgery felony, I had no idea that Houston authorities had no intention of taking the conviction off my record. Little did I know that my record would make it so hard to get a job. I was even walked out of janitors’ offices and forced to do temporary labor for the next seven years.

The transition for me has been a lower class of citizenship, tougher jobs, and shelters and slums. I had to keep a clean record with no trouble for seven years. I did so and now the conviction does not appear when I apply for a job.

Overall, I am no longer upset because I know so many standup people who have beat transitioning out of incarceration. I have the tools I need and plenty of time to focus and stay out of trouble. I must keep on trying.

Jason Turner is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

What Prison Taught Me

By Darin Thomas

Going into prison was something else, a whole other world. When I heard the gates lock behind me, I knew I had lost my freedom. Living behind bars in a cell with another man, avoiding violence in the prison, and complying with the authorities’ rules was a complete loss of freedom.

I had to get up and shower at all different times. Eating occurred when the prison guards told us when to eat. That meant breakfast was served at four in the morning, lunch at 11 a.m., and dinner by 5 p.m. Officers would wake you up at any time and you had to do what they said. They might ask you to do a chore or task at any time they chose. You also had to strip down when going to the gym and coming out of the gym.

My time in prison was a learning experience. It taught me to stay out of trouble. I was very glad when I got out from state prison on parole and had a date to return to my hometown, Dallas. It made me want to live a different life, to live right and do better. Listening to guards is not something I want to do the rest of my life.

Now, after being out of prison for about a year, I am taking life one day at a time, living to the fullest. I have my own apartment, a job, and am living a normal life. I stay out of trouble, enjoy freedom of movement, choose my own food, and even go grocery shopping. None of those things could I do in prison.

Every year that I was incarcerated for something was every day that I was locked up instead of being free. It feels good to live to the best of my ability.

Darin Thomas is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

The Tree Reaching for Jesus Christ

By James Varas

I can see a tree reaching for heaven. I see it stretch its branches for heaven. It reaches for the Heavenly Father like a child reaching for someone who loves them.

I can sometimes feel like I am being held captive in this life we live in. I feel like a tree with its roots planted firmly in God.

Jesus Christ is my anchor. He holds me firm and strong through all my trials and tribulations.

I feel sometimes like a newborn bird. They flap their wings knowing they were born to fly. It is imprinted in their identity. When God created them, they knew they could fly. Their parents cheer them on as they flap their wings with every desperate stroke, as they watch from the treetops.

Their stories are much like ours. We learn how to fly or we die. We learn in this life that we must fight for life or we die. Sad truth.

We learn if no one does anything about a problem, it will never get solved, it will only get worse. We learn to face our fears and fight our battles.

Then we learn we were not alone. Our Heavenly Father, our Holy Lord Jesus Christ, our Holy Spirit were there the whole time helping us defeat the enemy. We sometimes are blind to this.

For so many years I was blind to the fact that Jesus Christ was there with me the whole time. I often thought Jesus Christ watched from the Heavenly Throne. I never knew He lived inside me and could feel me, know me. Before I could think a thought, He would answer me. That’s pretty scary to be answered before you think of the answer.

He gave me a gift. A gift greater than all the treasure on all the earth. A gift with great responsibility. With great Authority.

Great trust in God and love for Jesus Christ is the way I found the Greatest Gift in life. I was given wisdom in more ways any mind can ever comprehend, except for the Trinity of God.

What does that mean?

You are forgiven in Jesus Mighty Name. Amen. I know!

The door is open to Christ and I am here to keep that accessible.

James Varas is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.

Incarceration Molded My Character

By David Yisrael

I have had two particularly traumatizing experiences dealing with incarceration. Coincidentally, both episodes took place right here in Texas, in the Fort Worth area to be specific.

I was arrested for sleeping on a sidewalk outside a public library the first time and for arguing with an officer about the right to sleep under a bridge in the second incident.

During my first visit to Tarrant County jail, I got into a violent altercation with two inmates that had me seeing double for a while. During my second stay, I was stripped naked and forced to redress.

During both my stays I was denied several food trays while in solitary confinement. I believe that I may have suffered some form of PTSD from my experiences while incarcerated.

It was only after looking into a regular mirror (jail mirrors are metallic and horrible reflectors) after both my imprisonments that I saw how skinny I had become. My weight loss was thanks in part to the inadequate meals I was served. The experience was disconcerting, to say the least.

I had been incarcerated for almost two years with both of my imprisonments combined. They were for relatively minor infractions, if you wish to call them that.

I try not to let myself get overly bitter when I recall these incidents. I know that God used my incarcerations to strengthen me and mold my character into the man He ultimately wants me to become. Also, I was hit with an inventive streak while incarcerated. I came up with everything from songs to product ideas!

After my two incarcerations, all charges were dropped, and I am still dealing with the after-effects. But thanks to the Most High God I am getting better everyday. I am steadily becoming the man God intended for me to be.

David Yisrael is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.