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My Story
(1/10/01)
I was born in Waynesville, North Carolina near the Cherokee Indian Reservation in the Blue Ridge Mountains, what we call "western Carolina." It is bordered by Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee. I am the oldest of nine children. I grew up in a dysfunctional family. My father was a chronic violent alcoholic. He was away most of the time. When he had employment, he worked on the tunnel crews of the Blue Ridge National Parkway. When he was home, there was a lot of violent abuse to my mother. I was abused more than the other kids because of being the oldest, and being the most responsible. We had an old country mountain home with no electricity, and no indoor plumbing. We carried water in buckets from a spring a few hundred yards away. All heating and cooking was done by woodstoves for which we chopped wood. Laundry was done by hand. Most clothing was hand-me-downs. We hunted and canned out own vegetables from my mother's garden. In the mountains there were bear, deer, black panther, raccoon, groundhog, rabbits and trout fishing. We cured skins by wood ash and water to remove animal hair from the skin. And hung them out to dry. We used them for leggings, sandals, and shoes. My mother took care of us the best she knew how. She got seasonal jobs, working in the tobacco and tomato fields from daylight to dark. I was responsible for my younger brothers and sister.
My first drink of alcohol was before I went to school. From the age of 16 I was a chronic alcoholic. I feel that my alcoholism was inherited. My behavior was taught by my abusive home environment. I became very angry, violent and self-destructive. I had a lot of hate towards my parents, to my Dad for whipping me and for my Mom for putting up with him for so many years. I left home when I was 17. Over the years I held jobs in construction as a heavy equipment operator, truck driver, laborer, sawmill worker, and other varieties of jobs. At 21 I married. This marriage lasted 5 years. We had 2 children, one girl and one boy. I have not seen them in 24 years.
My alcoholism got more and more serious with frequent blackouts. I became violent during a blackout and received a mandatory ten year sentence at the age of 40. I was also involved with drugs. I considered myself a lone wolf.
Upon entering prison in 1990 the first institution I was in was nicknamed "The Rock." There were the most violent, hardened criminals. I witnessed stabbings, and people being hit with pipes in the head and hip. I was involved in two riots. It was a very violent atmosphere. Adding to this, we regularly received verbal and mental abuse from the guards, and occasionally physical abuse. They treated us like robots, like animals, like scum, like we were sub human. It was very dehumanizing. If the institutional power is used in an abusive way, it turns us away from rehabilitation. Rehabilitation is an inside job. The prisoner has to want to rehabilitate. But it requires the administration to be compassionate and caring, to support us in this effort to make a life change inside prison.
You can take an animal and lock it up in a cage, and gouge at it everyday. When the cage doors open, that animal will attack. The same is true for prisoners. Day after day of dehumanizing treatment, we built up rage that lies just under the surface. We have to suppress our rage to expedite our release. But our rage is never dealt with. When we are released, the rage we feel against the prison system we feel towards society.
If we were treated like human beings with more compassion from caring officials, there would be less men relapsing and re-entering to the system after release. Trust is very hard for us in the prison system because of the things we see and experience in prison, and in our lives. Prisoners distinguish between "inmates" who follow the institution rules, and "convicts" who follow a "convict code of honor." It is a subculture within prison with its own language. It is against the society, the prison authority and the guards and anything that does not agree with it.
In 1994, I was at Avon Park Correctional Institution. There my duties were to maintain 2 steam boilers for the kitchen and laundry. I was alone, sitting in a 20 by 30-foot yard in front of the boiler room. I had made a couple of flowerbeds in the yard. I was looking at the flowers, listening to the birds, and looking at the trees beyond the fences. The yard was enclosed by 15-foot chain link fence topped by barbed wire and curled razor wire to prevent escapes. For the first time in my life, I took a real good look at my life, as it had become.
I can't say whether this was a spiritual experience, or if I suddenly woke up. I asked myself how did I end up where I was and what was life all about. What was I? I never wanted to return to prison again. I knew I had to change my life. I did not have a spiritual upbringing. At this time I started looking for some meaning in life. I went to the institutional library, and researched world religions. In Buddhism I found a more down to earth, self-focused, non-dogmatic teaching. I requested the administration to change my religious affiliation to Buddhist. I wrote to Tokyo, Japan and received a book on The Teachings of Buddha. As a Buddhist, I was able to receive books on different schools of Buddhist meditation.
From these readings I began to practice meditation and to change my behavior. I stopped participating in illegal activities, and became a model inmate. Some of my fellow "convicts" rejected me, some didn't. Some mockingly called me "Grasshopper" after the Kung Fu monk TV show. They taunted me with loud "OOOOOMMMMMMM"s when we passed in the halls. But my meditation practice centered me, so that I could turn their taunts into encouragement.
I volunteered for all programs within the Department of Corrections such as: Anger Management, Victim Awareness, Family Development, Life Skills and the "Tier Program" (12 Step Recovery). The Tier inmates were separated from the rest of the prison population. There were about 40 of us.
The program is for one year. But after the year, I did not feel I had all the tools I needed to stay clean and sober. I approached the Clinical Director and asked to become a Peer Facilitator. I was afraid to stand up and give lectures in front of the men. The Clinical Director told me to get up there and open my mouth if I wanted the job. I was a liaison between the prisoners and the staff. I was able to work directly with other recovering addicts. This strengthened my recovery. An addict is most helped by another recovering addict.
I was discharged from the Florida Department of Correction on 12/22/2000 after ten years of incarceration. There are no words to express the internal fear that I was feeling when I walk out of the gate. All the way to Gainesville, I could not get away from feeling alone and lost. When the bus pulled into the bus station in Gainesville, I looked and there was K.C. from The Gateless Gate Zen Center. The relief form all these feeling when I saw him was so powerful, Him being there for me and taking care of my needs. On 12-28-2000 I went to the Gateless Gate Zen Center for a 5day retreat I was able to put down a lot of my fears, pain, anger and loneliness. There are so many I want to thank. Keith Smith for opening his home to me, All the donations and support that was given. The Kwan Um School of Zen who has really been supportive, Zen Master Seung Sahn wonderful book The Compass of Zen that gave me a better understanding of the Buddha’s teaching and practice and most of all, my Dharma Teacher K.C. Walpole of The Gateless Gate Zen Center that I’ve come to trust and Love. One can only imagine the many adjustments you must have to make, and the many places where you realize that you are free. Just sleeping a little later, eating when you want, meditating in a quiet space. Its all so wonderful. Thank you all for your compassion and caring.
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