I was taught by some of my more experienced peers how to live in prison, and I did learn a lot. The convict mind was a different animal than any I had ever dealt with. Eventually, I would be better at being a convicted prisoner than anyone I knew, but first I had to be the fucking new guy.
I was lucky in a lot of ways. James had been there before, and we spent as much time as possible doing the student/teacher thing. I also knew some guys from the neighborhood — and the county jail — and so was respected enough to not get fucked around with too much. I had a long sentence, too. Most people in prison, at least then, had less than five years to go. I had over 10 years until my date, and I’d be going “Behind the Wall” — to one of the largest and most dangerous mainlines in the system, designed for the worst of the lot. Murderers, rapists, predators of all kinds, and I guess, me. It’s where Death Row is — it was built to house prisoners until death. Thirteen steps between each tier. Thirteen-foot thick walls surrounding it.
Someone told me early on that I would survive if I stayed clear of three things: gambling, drugs, and homosexuality. There is not one man with whom I’ve ever spoken who has gone through any similar experience and not been involved with each and every one of those things. It’s a way of life. It’s the way that world operates. There is no staying out of it. If anyone, ever, says different, I challenge them to explain how they have done that to my face because I call him on it now.
I went into prison 6’7″ tall, weighing about a 180 lbs. Very thin. Almost skeletal. I came out 6’7″ and about 290. I lifted weights, I ran for miles. I did push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups. I read every book I could get my hands on for 10 years. I read Tommy Knockers by Steven King in one day. That book has over 700 pages.
Once I found a book I really enjoyed, I would read everything by the author until I felt I knew him or her. After reading all of Stephen King’s books, there are certain things I know about the man and the part of the country he comes from. Likewise, Kurt Vonnegut Jr. has no idea who I am, but he has made me a different man, if not a better one.
I still have a bit of a convict mentality. I’ve been out longer than I was in. I wish that I could have the time back that I missed with my children. I wish I could look in the mirror and see the kind of person that I’ve always respected — the man who works his ass off and pays his bills and taxes so that his family will sleep comfortably for one more night.
