Just a Touch of Becoming

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