Sound is Inspiration

Hotep,

Advanced technology makes traditional telephone communication seem primitive, like using a sundial to tell time, or dipping a quill into ink for the purpose of writing a scribe.  

The deaths of my beloved Aunt Mary, Nana and most recently Aunt Lena have been cause for the prison administration to “grant” me a single phone call to my immediate fam.  Other than that, the administration’s “generosity” for phone calls is limited to one visually monitored call every December.

My personal boycott of the prison’s annual holiday scam began December 2013.  I wholeheartedly refused to continue exposing my people to this establishment’s outlandish long distance service.  Ridiculous rates, designed to sever familial ties within the sum of 10 measly minutes.

The yearning to hear the voices of my parents during the holiday season, made the sacrifice feel like I was tiptoeing through a quagmire of desolation.  At times, I had to question my motives for abstaining from the pleasantries of their holiday cheer: “Is this my way of letting go?  Have I finally accepted this existence?” As you can see, this was a rough stretch for me.  SMH.

The struggle continues, yet the odds have tilted in the favor of the Underdog.  In April 2015, Vanderbilt University Divinity School hosted the REVISIONING JUSTICE CONFERENCE.  Our phone crisis was discussed and greatly frowned upon.  

We then submitted petitions – signed by condemned men – and sent to the street for the “FREE WORLD” to catch, process, then act on the state’s display of denying condemned prisoners, who are under appeal, the right to have regular telecommunication with our appellant attorneys.

By August 2015, the majestic sounds of legendary speaker and phenomenal legal mind, Bryan Stevenson, stood before us – delivering a powerful message.  He strongly encouraged the writers of “the row” to continue pushing our pens because proximity breeds awareness; a sound that drew a standing ovation, while unifying our sights on a change that would bring us closer to our loved ones.  Feel me?

Along came December 18, 2015.  The performance of SERVING LIFE broke new ground.  I felt these cold walls of covert injustice crumble when my character (PHILLY) warmed the hearts of the audience with this line, “The worst is when you want to tell someone you love about something, and you can’t.  You got one ten-minute phone call a year.” Man, I swear! That was one of the most liberating moments of my life.  Word is bond!

Three short months later, those same words left hundreds of people stunned and outraged when the monologues that makes up SERVING LIFE were performed at U.N.C. Chapel Hill’s Genome Sciences Building; a conference titled, RACE, INNOCENCE, and the END of the DEATH PENALTY.  

It was a blessing to have my parents attend such an event, and I don’t mind telling you; the sounds of their enthusiasm during the following visit, reaffirmed that our position of protest had grown legs, and was methodically beginning to stand firm.

On June 7, 2016, the sound of a dial tone – that may have been annoying at some time in our lives – inspires the men of death row to purchase phone minutes at the rate of 10 cents per.  The sounds rumbling from the cellblocks, rec yard, and corridors that make up Unit 3 (death row), no longer exudes despair.  

I am now captivated by the sounds of Moms feeling refreshed after her “silver sneakers” workouts, and Pops handling business down at the state building.  Real talk.

I have been floored by the sound of my son handling L.A. traffic on the 110.  And then, the very next morning listening to him wake up my beautiful grandseeds for another day of school.  Their sleepy tones may as well have been bullhorns in my ears, because both of them told me they loved me.  SMH. You should have seen me attempting to maintain my composure at that phone.  If concrete could melt like ice cream; this Mann was it.  G-Dad loves you too. Lil’ Manns.

Then there is the sound of my Queen saying, “good morning” or “good night.” Listening to her travel the Ben Franklin Bridge; arriving home and inspecting her mailbox – only to find a scribe from her Mann – is the sweet addiction that encourages me to continue creating expressions for the benefit of positive change.  Having the inspiring sounds of my peoples back in my ear makes the last 2 tumultuous decades feel like I’ve gone from a Euro to a hundred in a matter of minutes.  Holla if ya hear me.

Still Livin,’

MannofStat

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann