Voices From the Row: Scoring A Point

Hotep,

With every breath we take, there is a reason to be thankful for something.  I am thankful for my family, loved ones, and a support system made from old friends, new acquaintances, and the anonymous sector within the blogosphere, eager to experience the humanity encaged on North Carolina’s Death Row. 

I am especially thankful for the recent events (9/2/2014) that led to the release of Henry McCollum.  For the first time in 3 decades Henry will sit at a table – not made of steel – and give thanks for being a free man.

Mr. Blue will turn the page of this successful transition, to the chapter where scoring a point for the men who continue to fight for one more day is a story waiting to be told.  Feel me?

100,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

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Scoring A Point

The spirit of the entire death row at Central Prison here in Raleigh, NC has been buoyed by the release of Henry McCollum, an innocent man wrongfully convicted and held under threat of death for 31 years.  We celebrate along with him and his family, a happy and joyous day. 

However, though the state of North Carolina was unsuccessful in their attempt to kill him, he was robbed of his life nevertheless.  He entered the penal system as an 18-year-old teenager, and leaves as a 50-year-old middle-aged man.

There was cursory coverage in the news media, but then it was quickly on to the next story.  However, this is a story of monumental importance, and will not be soon forgotten by lovers of justice around the world.

The evidence that eventually freed Mr. McCullom, affectionately known by all here on the row as Big Hen, was obvious 31 years ago.  He was sent off to die capriciously and maliciously, by a system that was supposed to protect him.  The district attorney in the case, defense lawyers, judge and jury are all culpable; their hands are dirty.  However, they will not be called to account for their actions.  The will not face even one day in jail after illegally confining an innocent man for 31 years.

So, while we celebrate Big Hen’s freedom, we do so with blood in our eye.  For we know that his case is not an anomaly. It is standard operating procedure in D.A. offices in every state to withhold evidence favorable to the defense, a violation of the United States Constitution. 

Prosecutors understand that they act with impunity, and where there is no accountability, there is recklessness.  To withhold evidence in any case is morally repugnant, to do so in a capital case is no less than attempted first-degree murder.  Prosecutors, who withhold evidence, act deliberately, willfully and with malice.

During interviews, conducted before and after he left death row, Big Hen said he was able to stay strong throughout his ordeal because of his faith in God.  He is an extraordinary profile in courage.

As we continue to struggle on here, we are encouraged by his example and that a bit more light has been shone upon another unscrupulous prosecutor attempting to do murder in the name of the people of the state of North Carolina; the worst of the worst indeed.

It is easy to understand how a man sentenced to die, told that his life is no longer worth living, no longer of value, isolated from society, cut off by friends and family, would give up all hope; but still, we fight.

At times during the volleyball tournament, tempers flare and points of contention are heatedly debated.  This is an example of the heart, conviction and passion in men, who in spite of decades of brutal oppression and injustice, have not given up.  When these issues are resolved at the net with integrity, humility, grace and mutual respect, score one point for humanity.

Score a point for men who look in the face of death daily, and don’t flinch, but are able to continue to live, learn, and grow; and fight for one more day, one more volley…

We thank Big Hen for the lesson, and we wish him well.  It’s more than just a game.

Mr. Blue
Copyright © 2014 by Paul Brown

Voices From the Row: The First Noel

Hotep,

God. Family. Hope.

These are the three elements you will find in the following expression.  William C. Gregory, a.k.a. “Chris,” is back to spread some holiday cheer and share with this W2TM audience how humanity can thrive in the direst of circumstances. 

Although our families differ in names and bloodlines, “Chris” will always be my younger brother.  We discuss family dynamics regularly, so its only right that he feel like a member of everything I love.

Happy Holidays, Blogosphere!

One,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

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The First Noel

“The best part of life is when your family become your friends and your friends become your family.” Robin Roberts (Good Morning America)

This quote rung true for me over the years.  I’ve spent 20 long weary years on N.C.’s death row.  I’ve met some really good men.  Some made huge mistakes in the heat of the moment; others were at the wrong place at the wrong time, while others were victims of circumstance. Whatever the case may have been, I’ve met some good brothers who I consider family!

Christmas is all about sharing time with loved ones, putting petty differences aside and enjoying the celebration of our Creator’s birth!  I had to celebrate with my family here.  Whether it’s breaking bread together over a meal we prepared ourselves or watching some NBA Christmas games, I’m still grateful for another Christmas each passing year.

Due to the circumstances I’m under, I know I’m not promised another Christmas to celebrate.  So I’ll cherish this Christmas as I have all others!

Our Maker took it upon His shoulders to redeem all of humanity and creation to Himself.  He prepared the way, that Jesus, His one and only begotten son, could reconcile all future generations into His heavenly kingdom.  So as you sit around this Christmas enjoying the festivities, let’s not forget to prepare room in your hearts for the One whose holiday this represents!

The birth of our savior born in a lowly manger.  Continue to keep your eyes posted on the bright morning star.  He gives hope to the hopeless; love to the broken hearted; joy to the broken spirit and peace to the weary!

Every Christmas, the radio stations play a variety of Christmas songs.  My favorite song is by Nat King Cole “The Christmas Song.”  It really brings so many fond memories to my soul.  As I close, may it spark a fond memory for you as well!

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,

Jack Frost nipping at your nose.

Yule tide carols being sung by a choir,

And folks dressed up like eskimos.

Everybody knows,

A turkey and some mistletoe,

Helps to make a season bright,

Tiny tots with their eyes all a glow,

Will find it hard to sleep tonight.

They know Santa’s on his way

He’s loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh!

And every mother’s child is going to spy

To see if reindeer really know how to fly.

And so I’m offering you this simple phrase.

To kids from 1 to 92

Although its been said

Many times, many ways,

Merry Christmas to you!!

Have a wonderful Christmas celebration Rochelle, Daveante, Deuce, Tear, Mr. & Mrs. Dabney, D, Nyse, Deb and all of the blogosphere!!  May the coming New Year be bright and filled with good health.

Peace and Blessings,

William C. Gregory

Copyright © 2014 by William C. Gregory

Give Me A Sign

As a child, the Christmas season was always the “feel good” time of year.  Enduring asthma and Mom’s lengthy punishments could not deter me from feeling the warmth of the holiday spirit.  

However, Christmas behind a prison wall can cause the greatest of holiday troopers to repress those childhood pleasantries connected to the season of giving.  Prison is not the place where a man wants to be known as a warm and giving individual.  At least, that was my perception when I was living on the other side of the wall.

Just before the turn of the century, I can recall a Christmas inside of this box, where the state supplied the prisoners with humanlike eating utensils.  A plastic folk and knife replaced the primitive food shovel, known as the spork.  The pantomime of the state’s overseers insured me I was eating something they preferred to have on their own dinner tables.

I pressed my fork into the remaining chunk of petite sirloin while simultaneously absorbing the laughter and holiday spirit dwelling amongst the prisoners in the chow hall.  The atmosphere was much different that usual, but once the meal concluded, the vibe of animosity and envy boomeranged; a reality check never far from its toxic starting point. 

The walk back to D-Block consisted of at least 60 red jumpsuits bouncing down the tunnel at once; most of us fighting to live while anticipating the upcoming executions of others.  This was 1998, three executions had already preceded this particular holiday, and four more would come the following year.  A hefty number of the death row population would slowly be depleted in the months to come.  A slow death in its truest sense.

My stomach appeared to be full, but my spirits were declining fast.  It was my 4^th Christmas without the laughter and authentic gestures of love that comes within a tight-knit family unit.  The closer I got to D-Block the more helpless I felt.  

In here, these feeling could easily be construed as weak, therefore my frustration festered until another red jumpsuit asked me to block the officer’s view while he removed some of the holiday cheer from an artificial Christmas tree standing outside of the death row housing unit. 

Without the slightest hint of hesitation, I obliged.  I had no idea as to why we were doing this, but when I looked back at the prison’s artificial display of Christmas, I saw a faux representation of life stripped by the real lives given expiration dates.

Back on the block, the organizer of this holiday season coup used construction paper, glue, tape and straws to produce a D-Block Christmas tree.  There was a sense of collective admiration for this symbolism of our unity as the ornaments were placed on a tree made from a tree.  Then an older cat instructed everyone to look out of their cell windows.  I was stunned by what I saw.

A line of people stood on a bridge – yelling, waving, and holding a sign that read: Merry Christmas!  Complete strangers gesturing humanity.  I’m in here struggling to maintain my humanness and people that didn’t know my name were reminding me of it.  This place wasn’t home, but it was definitely Christmas. 

Happy Holidays,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

A Friend Seated As a Stranger

Hotep,

A conference room bearing frigid temperatures is the setting for my bi-weekly forums with the Hidden Voices Foundation.  

Discussions of injustice and redemption are common themes amongst colleagues meeting on the wrong side of the prison wall.  To the eyes of authorities figures we are seated as strangers, engaging in an experiment where logical explanations are few.

By the time this goes to press, our social trials will be a year old.  The earliest results support my spiritual theory of true friendships being predestined – not manmade. How else can we explain a condemned Mann befriending someone who once supported the usage of capital punishment?  Common logic would also deem a genuine bond between a victim eyewitness and a suspect seated at the defense table to be highly unlikely.  Yet it happens for reasons unknown to basic human understanding.

My friend, Mrs. Jennifer Thompson – Cannino is a New York Times bestselling author.  After reading her memoir, “Picking Cotton,” I was deeply moved by the experience of shedding a dark period in her life only to emerge as a ray of hope for those who have been blanketed by the injustice that plagues the North Carolina judicial system. 

Her story involves Mr. Ronald Cotton, a victim of a wrongful conviction.  His case was the first of its kind, in the sense of North Carolina permitting DNA testing to have the final say in what many believed to be an open and shut case.  Eleven years after Jennifer’s life was altered by a man she believed to be Ronald Cotton, DNA evidence set a historical precedent that is now the foundation of a genuine friendship between the two.  Word is bond.

Jennifer is a magnetic element in North Carolina’s Innocence Commission and now dedicates her life to the elevated side of the disturbingly imbalanced scales of justice.  In my opinion, admitting you are wrong retains a high social value. 

Conversing with such an individual regularly has helped me to broaden my degree of objectivity, concerning the furor and malicious attacks stemming from a victim’s family support system.  I also understand how incompatibilities between strangers can lead to productive and meaningful friendships.  Feel me?

W2TM is a platform where the talk of injustice is the common lingo, but in no way is this atmosphere foreign to “the profound nature of human grace and the healing power of forgiveness.” As a writer, it is my due diligence to expose the masses to the education within “Picking Cotton.” As a friend, I am honored to just say, thank you Jennifer.  Your truths are saving lives.  Ya heard?

Congratulations are in order for Mr. Ronald Cotton, for maintaining and moving forward with your life when it could have been so easy to live in neutral, while blaming the world for your misfortunes.  I thank you for not being that brother.  Na mean?

And last, but not least, I would like to thank Ms. Erin Torneo for the design behind this story’s influential structure.  Your writing is a service to the world.  I pray that your motivation for doing so continues to flourish because “Picking Cotton” is the type of change we need in this world.  Keep punching those keys, Erin.

Nuff Said,

MannofStat

Copyright © by Leroy Elwood Mann

Voices From the Row: Checkmate

Hotep,

For the duration of 30 years, Henry McCollum was labeled as a murderer by the state of North Carolina.  Sentenced to death at the age of 19, Henry had been on death row for 14 years when I arrived in 1997.  We rarely spoke, but talking heads made it known that Henry had been wrongfully convicted. 

Today (9/2/2014), he was acquitted of all charges by a Robeson County Superior Court Judge.  The tear in his family’s eyes is a true testament to how a milestone of this magnitude can affect people on both sides of the concrete barrier that separates us.  The death row population exhales another injustice.  Good luck Henry.  You bore the burden of the red jumpsuit for far too long.  Be easy on the other side.

Back on this side of the wall, another milestone is brewing.  Rodney Taylor (my associate, partner, and pen brother) has been inspired to chronicle the history of the death row chess club.  As the official chess tournament coordinator, Rodney records every game to the finest detail, in a weekly commentary called “The Death Row Gambit” (formerly known as Checkmate).

The following expression will be an in-depth experience of a milestone on the horizon.  Do what you do, Rod.  In this case, Checkmate is a beginning.  Ya heard?

Always 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © by Leroy Elwood Mann

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Checkmate

“Chess On Death Row”

Checkmate is the ultimate goal in the game of chess, by which the enemy king is checked (threatened with capture), and has no means of escape.  Checkmate ends the game immediately.  Simply put, it is a declaration of victory.

The origin of chess is shrouded in mystery.  The earliest date to which chess can be traced is about 600 A.D.  Travelling from India via the Arab world to Europe it has spread worldwide attracting players from a wide range of cultures.

Chess can be likened to a war between two military forces battling for control of a specific region.  It is a mental battle between two people striving to outthink one another, maneuvering their pieces around the board to a position of victory.  This requires focus and the ability to strategize – analyze a situation and act methodically to achieve a desired goal.

An intriguing factor about chess is how its principles are applicable to real life situations.  If a person wants to be successful in life they must be able to strategize, meaning they must be able to plan a course of action to achieve their goal.  Furthermore, they must be able to maintain focus to follow through with their plan to fruition.

There is a saying in chess: “Think b4 you move.” Such is the case with life.  It is necessary to think about whatever it is you intend to do, taking into consideration both the best course of action to take and the potential consequences.  In chess a bad decision (move) can lead to checkmate.  Likewise, making a bad decision in life can lead to failure, which is a checkmate of sorts, if they don’t learn from their mistakes and make better moves (decisions).

The reasons people play chess vary.  Some play simply for the enjoyment of it and others as an occupational sport.  Then there are those who play chess for mental conditioning.  Playing chess relies on memory, the ability to calculate sequences of moves, and the recognition of patterns all of this is relatable to real life situations, from social interaction to operating a business. 

Some of the world’s most successful people play chess and have employed its principles in their lives.  Even parents and teachers introduce children to the game of chess for the purpose of developing analytical and problem solving skills that will enable them to have successful futures.

Chess grandmaster Dr. John Nun said, “Simply put, chess is a beautiful game. For all of the supposed complexity of chess, the geometry is simple and elegant.  A well-played game has a certain crispness about it.  Simply seeing a good move on a board can give chess players pleasure.  It is a glorious feeling to play a great game flowing from start to finish.”  This is why chess is so popular. 

We have this chess class going on here.  Though everyone in it knows how to play chess, the class has created an opportunity for us to get a more comprehensive knowledge of the game.  It has also given us a deeper appreciation of chess we have been playing chess more lately especially with the pending chess tournament.  What was once on occasional pastime is now a daily routine.  Not a day goes by without multiple games of chess being played “think b4 you move,” is a principle of chess that can be used in our daily lives.  Chess isn’t just a game; it’s a way of life.

Check,

Rodney Taylor

Copyright © 2014 by Rodney Taylor

Protocol and Tradition

Hotep,

Prison life can be like running on a treadmill; you’re moving fast, but not moving forward.  Life on the row is more like waiting at a bus stop for transportation that has been detoured without your knowledge. 

How long is patience?  Some may be slow to take the initiative of walking toward their destination.  Maybe the traditional means of getting there is more suitable for them.

Negativity hovers the Unit 3 concrete enclosure the way a bus stop awning veils potential passengers.  Standing still beneath either of the two requires some degree of patience.  Standing still can fester the frustration of not knowing, and lead to the passengers rumbling their displeasures to any and all who choose to stand still alongside them.  

Within their expressions of unrest and dissatisfaction, there lies contempt for the passenger making the cognitive transformation to proceed in the direction of where he/she desires to go – without the use of the traditional assistance of getting there.

For years I have been corralled by the antipathy spawned by passengers choosing to manipulate penitentiary protocols – imposing their will on those complacent with waiting on progress, rather than making it.  

The protocol which sanctions panucronium bromide to violate the veins of humans, seems to be less of a priority when the abhorrent sights are set on the few who chose to trust their inner navigational systems to get where they need to be.

“I remember using every ounce of my strength to try to move.  The surgery went on for hours.  It was worse than death.” This was the testimony of Carol Weihrer, who underwent eye surgery in 1998.  

Panucronium bromide was administered to immobilize the eye, at the same time as anesthesia.  The anesthesia was less than effective.  “It was terrifying and torturous.  I could not communicate that I was awake.”

Ironically enough, the description Carol gives of her medical procedure mimics a state sanctioned execution protocol.  The tradition of capital punishment in America, has employed the services of panucronium bromide since 1977.  

In 2001, it became a crime for veterinarians in Tennessee to administer this same drug, to euthanize pets.  This ongoing ritual of capital punishment feeds the hate dwelling within our society, and also perpetuates a protocol for human torment, when it is considered to be inhumane for animals.  How humane is that?

I find complacency with timeless patience to be self-effacing when your life is the ultimate price.  I choose to break tradition and proceed without regrets.  I am moving toward a new tradition that is conducive to the psyche of the death row prisoner.  

Standing still will not defend you from death; it simplifies the task of bringing it to fruition.  The W2TM chronicles are the protocol for breaking this tradition.  Word is bond!

“Traditions are not sent from heaven, they are not sent from God.  It is we who make cultures and we have the right to change it, and we should change it.”

Malala Yousafzai
Nobel Peace Prize Recipient

Still Livin,'

MannofSat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

The Eye In Con: Seeing the Moves Within a Legacy

 

“Educate yourself to the fullest to become more aware of your creativity.  Where you find your passion is where you find your love.”

Eugene Brown, Chess Master

 Hotep,

The above quote came to be during a rap session between Mr. Eugene Brown and your MannofStat (8/28/14).  His words were a direct response to my asking him for advice on how to further this incredible journey we know as W2TM.  Sitting and speaking with someone who has been where I have been, and does not mind sharing the formula to get to where he is – breeds a fluent conversation that is now chronicled as a historical event.  Na mean?

“Hope without inspiration is the mother of stupidity, and the vultures await your exhaustion.”  These are the words of an ex-con tailoring the death row chess club to the body of humanity – allowing all involved to wear this experience as the blueprint to seeing a legacy fulfilled – making him an icon, A man that served time with the legendary Reuben “Hurricane” Carter during the 60’s Civil Rights Era.  “The Hurricane” story has been influential in my personal quest for freedom.  The hard truths pouring from Mr. Brown’s life experiences overwhelm me with inspiration whenever we share the same space.  Word is bond!

As I have said before, Mr. Brown is currently writing his autobiography, “Ex-con To Icon” (Chess Master Making Moves with Leroy - http://word2themasses.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-chess-master-making-moves-with-leroy.html ).  The expression to follow is a combination of hard truths, molded into a poetic expression that permits the reader to see the moves with his legacy.

“Don’t Ask Me How I Got There” reveals the life of an icon.  Your move Mr. Brown.

Be Easy,

MannofStat

Copyright © Leroy Elwood Mann

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Don’t Ask Me How I Got There

 Eugene Brown: A poetic expression of his reflective life!

You chose a heck of a place to want to be a star, warming your hands around a fire barrel with other cold hearted, like-minded men, women, children, dogs, cats, PhD’s, MD’s, HIV’s, murderers, robbers, dope fiends and thieves.

All the way from Don Perion on to the night train only to transfer to Richards Wild Irish Rose while tripin on a bottle of ripple.  Oh yeah, you talking about a devastating trip!  Where many are chosen, but very few return.

Don’t even ask me how I spent decades in those crack houses, oils joints, homeless shelters and other dismal crypts.

My mother said it would be days like this if I continued down that dead end street, but she never told me about those lonely nights that I would spend in the back seat of my car-dor minimum, lonely, broke, busted and disgusted and can’t be trusted.

Don’t even ask me how I got there because it is where darkness lives without light, where negativity is accepted for positivity, where ugliness is miss-placed for beauty, where young brothers are being turned over and over and over until finally turned out and

Suicide seems like the only way out!  Oh what a terrible existence – That Prison Industrial Complex.

You want to know how I got there.  Do you really want to know?

Well I’ll answer that for you.

My thinking got me there.  Ask me what was I thinking when I made those decisions.

Ask me about my role models and mentors

Ask me was I thinking b4 serving those long prison sentences.

Ask me did I have any choices while being programmed in subhuman conditions.

Ask me finally how the flame of hope was finally one-day fan into a new way of life.  Ask me how my thinking got me there.  Ask me how I came to accept full responsibility for every move I made.

In a still small voice I heard something say you are the King of your thoughts “Be still and make your next move your best move and always think B4U/move, this is your mission if you choose to accept.”

Copyright © Eugene Brown

Eye Opener

Hotep,

Look at me.  What do you see?  Am I the ugliness within the calamity that surrounds me, or the bitter pill a stranger swallows at the mere mention of my name?  I can’t make people like me.  I don’t have the Divine authority to tell them what they should believe – concerning my walk through this realm.  I only ask that you look at life through my eyes.  Scope the scene of life from the horizon of death.

Working for American Airlines made meeting celebrities an every day habit.  After a while, unless someone announces Halle Berry’s presence on the concourse, or Muhammad Ali is performing magic tricks at the baggage claim, it was just another day of coordinating the luggage of complete strangers – in route to business trips and family vacations. 

I often wondered how they viewed the Mann handling their baggage.  Seeing some of these complete strangers’ faces within the small windows of the plane encouraged me to view the same surroundings through their eyes.  This exercise may seem weird at first, but I can assure you that you will learn something new about yourself.  Here’s an example of how this works:

The death row housing unit hosts tour groups regularly.  Seeing these tour groups from a distance makes it difficult for me to interpret the tour guide’s (C.O.) instructions on viewing my presence.  This is when I go into American Airlines mode. 

Stepping into the existence of the tourist, I can hear the corrections officer explaining the unit 3 habitats.  His horrific accounts of crimes and convictions come off as precautionary tales to the ill informed.  But in reality, it is no more than a self-serving need of injecting zest into an uneventful 12-hour shift.

As the tourist, I begin to look around this “pristine” $20 million facility – only to wonder why these “monsters” have it so good.  Through my own eyes, I see this same tourist as the potential for change.  I see family life.  I can clearly see the strides for a better way of living, and everything that makes this existence worth appreciating.

The tourist within me begins to ask questions like: When was the last execution?  Why do they move about so freely?  How often do they attack staff members?  Looking through the eyes of the tourist I can see my guide beginning to sweat, and stutter over his words.  None of his answers support the grisly biographies of moments past.  I would then be inclined to question why I was instructed not to make eye contact with these monstrosities underserving of humane interactions.

Then the inevitable happens; California vegetable soup, Dial deodorant, Colgate toothpaste, and Lever – 2000 soap; all items that might be on my own grocery-shopping list.  This is me making this simple canteen purchase.  I see myself greeting staff members without the slightest hint of a grudge.  I’m in awe of the fact we are so much alike. 

That is when I realize I’ve broken the cardinal rule; I am making direct eye contact with myself.  I see a person dealing with a gruesome circumstance, and I just can’t turn away.  I don’t know what to say to the “monster” that no longer exists.  Instead, I ask myself, “What does he think of me?”

My tour group walks past this person draped in a red jumpsuit, as he gathers his purchased belongings.  Looking in my direction, he greets the entire group, “Good morning, People.” Not only I, but also the entire group responded accordingly, “Good morning.”

Obviously the tour guide did not prep us for humanity in such an environment, yet all of us felt a human vibe at that very moment – orchestrated by someone deemed as a “monster.”

Look at me now.  See yourself within my humanity.  It’s a birthright to anyone touring this existence.

Much Love,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Monotony Evolved: future truths live on

Hotep,

The current structure of prison directs the incarcerated individual to a path of failure, upon entering a free society.  Recidivism is a ramification of years of successive dependence on what is believed to be a rehabilitative structure.  

This composition of penitence entails the deprivation of any sensible degree of independence.  Even the privilege of work release leaves a deep, dark bruise on the pretty face of independence.

Chow call!

Clothes house!

Outside rec!

A spoonful’s worth of choices can easily evolve into an overflowing cup of dependency.  Skipping chow; washing your own clothes; and staying indoors to break the monotony of dependency is the least gesture of resistance that harnesses liberation in a most immense fashion.

Wrapping my mind around ideas to improve the anatomy of the penitentiary is difficult for me.  The logical solution?

Release me!

Let me go! 

No harm, no foul!

Can anyone hear the sound of the hidden voice tucked within the most concealed corner of North Carolina’s basement? … I guess not.

Therefore, a feasible conclusion is: guilty or not, anyone serving time is a work in progress.  Including yours truly. 

For many years, this basement’s scenery has been a detestable sight.  In recent months, the scenery has evolved into a setting of progression.  A setting in which diverse backgrounds – under the same garment of destiny – make a positive difference that will be remembered as epic, well past the year of 2034.

Case and point:

The bi-weekly forums with the Hidden Voices Committee have become celebratory injections of humanity within a secured setting.  This formation consummates the authenticity of bonds between a Buddhist philosopher; a Muslim spiritual leader; a suburban intellect; an urban visual artist; a cat that writes science fiction straight outta Brooklyn; and a statistician beginning to understand his purpose as a journalist. 

All works in progress, no doubt, but together we debunk the stereotypical malarkey infused by an unbalanced scale of justice that weighs heavy on killing truths long before they are discovered.

Team FFLOW is the evolution of undeniable humanity.  If our bi-weekly setting can produce something of this magnitude, then I think the department of corrections should rightfully facilitate this high degree of evolution it encapsulates.

Our truths; Our lives; Our humanity! FFLOW is the standard of the future.

Keepin’ it 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Nothing 2nd Class About You

Rochelle in the UAE

Hotep,

A while ago, I read an article about Tina Sloane Green in the Daily News.  I immediately zeroed in on the fact that she is a Philadelphia High School for Girls alumna (Girls High http://webgui.phila.k12.pa.us/schools/g/girlshigh )

How could I not think of Chelle, right?  But listen; there is a much greater element within her story that I find phenomenally in sync with my home girl. 

This expression came to me when I read a letter from Rochelle concerning the second-class treatment of women in Dubai.  I can only imagine how challenging this may have been for a woman of her ilk, but she has to understand her purpose is much bigger than that degree of a cultural experience.  Na mean?

A professor of culture and sport, Tina Sloane Green understands the plight of the black female etching her way toward success: “Who would have ever thought this little black girl from Elmwood would be able to achieve so much?” Most recently, professor Green received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Philadelphia Sports Congress for her work with Black Women in Sports Foundation and at Temple.

The legend of the diligent Sista defying all odds (Goody Shop to the Golden City) – only to make a positive difference in her community – goes far beyond being chronicle – worthy.  Every time my heart beats I feel Chelle’s occupational strides, but I always remind her that a stellar career does not begin to define the magnitude of her worth.  Ya heard?

When I think of Rochelle, I see someone who increases the morale whenever she steps into the room.  A phenomenal presence, a Phenomenal Woman who understands her purpose is a destination navigated by her undying will to help others recognize their true worth.  

Your timing is always perfect, and when your decisions are unpopular with those closest to you, the results of your decisions will vindicate your position.  You are a first class breed of woman, Rochelle.  A Phenomenal Woman, indeed.

The birth of a Lady is the celebration of a queen.  A queen who stood within the sands of a city whose beauty is acclaimed as gold.  Leaving more than footprints, her legacy registers a permanent mark, which adamantly states she does not need a man to grant her permission to be a person of significance.  

She is a queen who has stood in the sands of foreign lands, unleashing a righteous display of independence when it has been outlawed as contraband.  Yes! that queen is you Rochelle.

October 29^th, the day a Lady is born.  All hail the Queen!

My gesture may be considered as extreme, but I am a Mann of my words, therefore I say exactly what I mean.  You own the love of your family and friends and your smile has been the gentlest touch.

The humble beginning of a Northern Liberties’ candy store is the reason the Sweetest person has achieved so much.

Happy Born Day Rochelle!!

Much Love,

Lump,

NP 4 Life

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann