What am I becoming, when I’ve grown more accustomed to
fanning flies than shaking someone’s hand?
What have I become when I am overwhelmed by the emotional
breakdowns conceived by restricted contact, and a familial touch is just inches
away?
“Love is just a touch away.” The sentiment behind these
words helped me to endure the mental fatigue of my naval training, in the early
stages of becoming an independent adult.
As I listened to the legendary crooner, Freddie Jackson, express the
heartfelt lyrics, I began to understand the weight of something as small as a
goodnight kiss; a key element that would be extracted from my life for the next
three months.
My brief stay in Great Lakes, Illinois was an experience
that taught me to appreciate my connection to the people who knew me as I have
known them. My fam and my hood showed
their support for me as I engaged in what I thought would be the longest 3
months of my life. The phone calls, the
homemade chocolate chip cookies, the many scribes and around the way pics were
all constant reminders that I wasn’t facing my challenge alone.
What have I become when I begin to miss the touch of the grandseeds
I have yet to meet?
Prison has seemed like an obstacle course. Over the years, I’ve endured the emotional
jabs and dropkicks that this life has to offer: living behind the Plexiglas. Showering inside of a cage, or merely
existing in a room that some may find too small to be a suitable closet, has
been known to groom a person in hopelessness, cynicism and self-hate.
The state of North Carolina has stalled execution protocols
for the past 10 years (8/18/06). Within
that timeframe, some death row residents have excelled in a variety of programs
and the positive results have left prison administrators in awe. In a general population setting, similar
programs are used to nurture the rehabilitative qualities of someone a parole
board would deem as an asset to society.
Who am I when the tracks of a tear have no place in a
pain-stricken life cycle?
Should a hard life require the condemned to be without
feelings?
The death row housing unit is not on lockdown status. We walk to and from the prison’s dining
facility 3 times a day, without escort.
Medical appointments and day-to-day interaction with prison staff is a
reality that does not require the bonds of shackles or handcuffs. And, it should not go unmentioned that former
warden, Kenneth Lassiter – now Deputy Director of Operations – was quoted in a
WRAL T.V. 5 interview as saying, “death row has the lowest disciplinary
infraction rate in the prison.”
Given the opportunity, death row prisoners in North
Carolina, have/will continue to develop a culture where humanity blooms at a
pace that is more conspicuous than the red jumpsuits we wear. As a spokesperson for this culture, I feel
compelled to make this push toward the evolution of death row prisoners
receiving bi-monthly contact visits.
In a state where capital punishment has proven to be flawed
and archaic, I am unable to experience the gentleness of a touch. My mom’s laughter continues to be muffled by Plexiglas
and steel grate. For far too long, my
lady’s goodbye kisses have gotten lost in the stale air of non-contact.
I’ve been out of touch for way too long. It is a pain that is way too strong.
What have I become?
Copyright © 2017 by Leroy Elwood Mann
