HIS ONLY ATTRIBUTE: DOING TIME

I met Micky J on Augusta Correctional Center, a man who spent 40 years incarcerated in a Virginia prison. He reminded me of the pimp from the classic Superfly movie. His salt and pepper afro was always well-maintained, as was his sculpted body for a 60-year-old man. He worked out all the time and bragged about being in better shape than the younger men around him. What made him most proud was how he kept the tiled floor in the dayroom polished like glass. That was Micky J, nothing more.

We had a falling out when I was in a shower stall, discussing my life in prison with a friend in the stall next to me. My friend asked me what one thing I never desired to become in prison was. A simple question, but complexity arrived with my response: "I don't want to be like Micky J, spending 40 years in a cage. That scares me." Unbeknownst to me, Micky J was outside the stall reading the flyers on the bulletin board. Well, Micky J responded, "I don't want to be like you either." That shocked me, but it also caused a rift in our relationship...then we were all shipped to Nottoway Correction Center.

Being new to the facility, we--those who transferred in--became a unit. We walked the yard together, worked out and watched each other's backs. Even Micky J and I became social again, thanks to our working our in-grounds job together, mowing grass, disposing of the compound's trash, and shoveling snow. This was how we began talking again.

As I listened to this 60-year-old man talk about life, everything centered around working out, our job, and prison stories. When he did this, I began to see how uneducated he was. This became apparent when I learned he hadn't attained his General Education Diploma (GED). Forty years in prison, wasting away. I took a step back and started recognizing that he chose to squander his time. This came when I watched him congregate with these young thugs who chased on Paper Crack (K-2).

One day we're working with lawnmowers, and weed-eaters, cutting grass. Our crew and I were in our sections, taking care of our task. As we were, someone called my attention to Micky J. He was inebriated, falling into the fences, and chewing up patches of earth with his weed eater. The men covered for him, and me, I just felt sad. Why? Forty years in a cage and this was his reality...a miserable one.

One day, I was with a few associates, talking about a book I was reading. As I did, Micky J showed up with a coloring book for adults. He wanted to impress us with his talent for coloring a picture of a dragon. I did admire it, and that was when he rushed into his cell and retrieved more coloring books. So many that one of my friends shook his head and excused himself.

The life of those incarcerated is that of growing beyond one's worst, and developing into something better. Not Micky J, who has his mind on getting high on Paper Crack. This became so well known that we were forced to help him off the floor when he passed out from getting too high. The sad moment arrived when he began heading out to work like this, daily. The running joke was how many times he would stumble into a fence before falling to the ground.

The wild part was that he was parole eligible. Something that all of us desired, but it became a reality that he would never get free. When he mentioned he had a parole hearing, we all said good luck, but a turn down would arrive a week after he went up.

This is a man who has nothing to show in life but waxed floors, coloring books, a six-pack of abs, and a head full of hair. Did time beat him down, or did the system fail him? I can not truly answer that question. All I know is that for 40 years, this is a man who has lived inside a world like no other, and there was nothing of substance to hold onto for him...or he didn't want to.

As we passed by one another, I would speak, and vice versa, but nothing more. He would sit alone under the stairs, avoiding conversations with people, because everybody avoided junkies who did dumb crap to bring negative attention to our environment. So, you would see him making necklaces from torn fabrics from blankets and sheets, transforming them into jewelry with medallions made of paper and painted to look like a Pittsburgh Steelers logo.

One day, he approached me and told me he wasn't going to work today. I asked whether he was sick or tired. What he revealed was that he tested positive for a banned substance. I shook my head at him because this would derail his entire existence in prison.

You see, when you test positive for any banned substance, you lose access to the phones and in-person visitations with family--for two years. What else this would do is impact his parole status. Once the parole board reads that he has an institutional charge, that will automatically get him a denial for a parole release.

A 60-year-old man who may become broken by this realization. He put up a good front by saying the most idiotic crap one can say: "It is what it is." Well, it is what it is, because he chose to do this to himself. Am I sad for him, yeah. Why? The weight of being incarcerated for decades altered one's state of mind, especially without education.

A man spent 40 years inside and he hadn't attained a GED, but he can wax a floor. What the hell is that? Not a man who is ready to do time outside a cage, nor one preparing for his second shot at freedom. Now with a new institutional charge, he may--sadly--never get released from his life sentence. All he'll do is wax floors, color books, and possibly remain sober. I don't know. All that I know is this is what prison can do to us if we don't get our lives in order. I pray that we all do, because examples like Micky J make it abundantly clear that we can become him if we don't get our minds centered on rehabilitation, education, and making amends, while building for a brighter future beyond these walls of shame.