Stories. Everybody seems to be always chasing after stories. But, my story ; now there’s one to think about! My Story! I never thought i’d see the day when anyone would be wanting to hear my story. Now , the very next thought is how do I tell my story. These things can be viewed from many points, because every story has many facets from which it can be viewed and ultimately told. Often ppl seem to just usually talk about what the ppl want to hear.Though it may be true, I ask what would ppl want to know about me? I could write about being underprivalaged as an American not an African American (since I am not from Africa, though a desendent of I may be. I was born on American soil and taken captive only because…) and already a victim before conception of my soul into this world. (…we are the souls not the cadavers that we inhabit. Borne into this world with the objection to to reach perfection…) I could write it simply based on my journey within a dysfuctional family and my repititious strive for something positive when we seemed to be destined for destruction.Surely there is no room to write about it all from every aspect that can be found so maybe I could write about this journey through these dark twisted walls of so-called rehabilitation. Somedays these cells and conditions remind me of the Asylums of old with there experimental procedures.Rendering those in their mercies helpless and often left them with little to no sanity to return home with intact.At such a time as these are; maybe that shall be my specific route. The big talk of rehabilitation and recidivisim , re-entry and unjustice has been a movement long in the making.It’s a very needed movement just as the power movements. In my opinion there should be no Black Power or White Power nor any other “race”specific Power movements. At the end of every perverbial day we return to the same ground. death has no moral of color nor creed. It has no liberations for any form of live no matter which continent or hemisphere it resides. All that matters is that Life was allowed and a soul obtains release. What we do with the life makes it all worth the efforts. In respects we are all of the same origins and bleed blood of the same color and each cadaver retains a soul. Each of us has lessons that we must learn through our course and that is where equality ends. Wheather we have fully funtional bodies , are disease free, have learning diabilities , dark or light skins, or whatever else one could find to make the differences between us. There are things that we can not change that we each posess and that will not change! There should lie the focus of all mankind. WE are born into religions and ways of life not that we choose them for ourselves, that we must choose to epuit ourselves with the morals and values taught or choose to delve into other options of the spiritual sorts and find our lights that we are to leave behind in this world. Either that or choose to exit this world leaving behind you a dark cloud for another to bare in your stead. In any case this may be too far off the path I wish to trod.
America! Land of the FREE!
Some days I think that this saying was only ment to sound good to the ears of the unweary and the dogmatic believers borne under their flag. The meaning of free seems to be so far off from what we have been given, or have been taught to believe.O America, land of eqauility and equal oportunity. Though it is thought and has been written and said this as well has to be so far from the truth. Being a man of darker hue ( we are not the color of the letters which you now read , but certainly we are of the draker brown hues. Often considered bronze….)I was born into poverty much as many of us are. This comes along with a usual dysfuction within families set in order by times past. Already set in a stage laced with racism . predjudicness, and hate for my species of this race. I was taught to never discriminate on anyone for a fact of color, race, or creed. Mother taugth us to treat others as we wanted to be treated no matter how bad they may or might treat us. I followed mothers lead not knowing that many of the challenges ahead would prove to be hard in many situations. I was also always helpfull in any situation I could figure out a way to help. Some say it’s by nature while others claim it’s GODS gift to me to help others. None’s the matter I loved to make ppl smile so I did what I could. Literaly that is what ended me , arresting my developement and placing me here behind these walls. AS a black man I can say that run ins with the law wasn’t an unusual thing to enconter. Being blamed for things you didn’t do wasn’t unusual either. I watched many injustices happening in the black commmunities dealing with most of the ppl I became acoustomed to hanging with, even though they didn’t fit my idea of good people exactly. I guess you could say I always looked for the good in ppl. Naturally I was made to do that , over looking flaws n hopes that you may be able to fix them and better your persona and reputation somehow. The ppl I hung with were of various origins,culturers,and hues. The case at hand happes to involve caucasian ppl all of who I knew( or so I thought I knew).
It all started with just wanting to keep my word to a few “friends” and take them out fishing. While we were out a female “friend of mines calls me just after turning my phone back on. I had recently turned it off after being bombarded with messages from my lady friend wanting me to come back to the house.She had asked me not to go out that morning but as a man I had to keep my word. I don’t believe in telling pl something and not coming through just because. Answering the phone ( with GOD as my Wittness) she began to cry and spew out a jumble or words exclaiming to me that her sisters boy friend had tried to rape her. She further explained that he had “flipped her room.
to be continued…
THOMAS HERBERT
DOC #00580116
