Donald Mitchell

A Bostonian Yankee in King Louis’s Court, by Don Mitchell

I guess the title is self explanatory in the regards that I feel so lost in a culture and enviroment that is as foreign to me as say the smokey mountains of Tennessee would be to a man (or woman) from Bora Bora. The slang alone in and of itself is still confusing to me and I have been in this system for going on 13 years now. Here is an example: everything, word, sentence, what have you is followed by the expression “Ya heard me?” as if I wasn’t part of the conversation. “I went outside today,Ya heard me?” “It was raining, Ya heard me?” “I came back in, Ya heard me?” Now don’t get me wrong I am by no means making fun of the phrasiology down here. Bostonians are just as confusing a bunch as the next. The point being is sometimes it just makes it so painfully obvious how different I am and no matter how “excepted” they appear to make me feel at the end of the day I still feel more alone than apart of if you will. I spend alot of time trying to explain things that are painfully obvious to me but seem to be alien to everyone else. The hardest part of this incarceration has been the lonliness. As I don’t know anyone in this state and no-one on the street for that matter, that feeling is multiplied by the billioneth. It would be nice if someone somewhere would “get me” even if it were to say “I don’t get it but I get you” Does that make sense? Anyways stay tuned for more observations to these and my many dilemas as I navigate through a Napoleanic culture trying to keep my head and breathe. Have a great day and thanks for reading.

Donald Mitchell
DOC #527866

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Categories: Donald Mitchell

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