IT STARTED

His name is Chucky. A little man with anger issues, and dealing with being molested as a child. He's been on the juvenile-to-prison pipeline since age 12. The attitude he carried once had him standing in the middle of the day room on Augusta Correction Center, shouting that if anybody had and problem with him, come to his cell and fight him--as a 5 foot 5 inch man did that, and that's how we met over 2 years ago.

We're now at Nottoway Correction Center, having a Saturday discussion on forgiving yourself. Chucky initiated it. He wanted help and confidently approached me to get things going. This was our third conversation since he cut me off and joined a gang.

I truly was hurt by him cutting ties with me. We would walk by one another every day, and he wouldn't say anything. Since he did, I followed suit; I saw that being a gang member was more important to him...so I let go.

A year and a half had drifted by, and he had suddenly moved into the housing unit I resided in. We still didn't talk. I focused on me, and him...he began having his difficulties: he had numerous fights with his gang members, and finally stopped being one of them. I learned all this through the prison chats I had with those in the unit.

One day, I had to speak with Chucky's celly. Well, his celly departed for a moment and that was when Chucky said, "Tut, you see I'm staying out of the way now." I acknowledged him, but stepped off. I didn't give him the chance he needed, because I'm still holding a grudge on how he cut ties with me. Chucky understood that, so he pressed me again. This time I sat down and listened.

We're in the day room on a Friday night. My mind was on getting into my bunk and watching the latest episode of Lioness on our movie channel. That all changed when Chucky asked me could I help him. He was tired of who he was, because all he did was live in his trauma of being molested. To hear that...in prison, eyes to my eyes, all the pain of how he cut me off vanished.

As we spoke, I could see a light behind his eyes. Before, it was a darkness that only showed a violent man who didn't care about dying. Now, in his own way, he shared his struggles. The more he did, the more I pulled on all the resources I gathered in my 48 years of existence. This was a tennis match. He hit me with a powerful serve of pain, and I would volley back with a tool to help with the pain. An hour of serving and he ended with a thought: "Do you think we can get men to sit down and have a talk about growth, maybe on Saturday?" I grinned, then got to work.

There's a Peer Supervisor in the unit. Ced. This brother looked like Luke Cage. Big, black and inked flesh with tattoos of his life. He was my go-to in times of trouble--and he hadn't been on the prison for a month. The energy he displayed made him and I unite like superheroes who wanted to change the world. I presented him with the idea, and he signed up immediately.

Saturday morning, we're only three deep. The other guys had excuses, cool, but the core group was there. I asked Chucky to speak first, and when he did, he wasn't shy about his problems. That allowed Ced to open up and give Chucky the talk of his life: "Better is what we talk about. I want a better life. I want to be a better man. Nah, I want the best life. I want to be the best man I can be. It's a process. Like a cup of coffee, it took a process to be what it is in the end. Life is like that. You gotta understand that in order for you to get where you need to be, PROCESS."

I chimed in: "Chucky, you're strong. So strong that your energy attracted me back, and in a matter of hours, you have two men who care enough about you that we're here, helping you. Now it's on you to take what we're giving and start the process."

Ced: "I'm going to get you a book called 'The Four Agreements.' It'll help you understand how to think."

I told Chucky I would give him "Man's Search For Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. Chucky smiled as Ced stood to shake his hand. Chucky didn't stand up, so I told him, "If you care, stand and show him your appreciation." Chucky rose to his feet.

When Ced departed, Chucky and I spoke a little more. We promised to make Saturday a day of positive discussion. I loved the idea, but I also loved that Chucky helped me see that a seed I planted sprouted from when we spoke on Augusta. I'm also proud that I didn't brush him off when he tried opening the door with me again.

Prison, to me, is college. We're learning how to become our best, so that when we graduate (get free), we depart from this world ready for it. Chucky proved to me today that this was possible. Ced, that's an enlightened brother that most would judge by his exterior, but behind that facade was a man who showed his best for Chucky and me.

We started something on a Saturday morning at Nottoway Correction Center. I'm already seeing that next weekend we'll have more men joining us. I'll make sure of it, because it started with an act of strength from a 5 foot 5 inch man who decided it was time for him to be his best.

His best. I love that. His best.