Shaking Things Up!

Hotep,

Everyday at 2pm, the prison is locked down for the first of three formal counts.  Only the officers doing the math are permitted to move during these counts.  Well, today (8/23/11) was different.  This is the day that the east coast shook.  Real talk.

Just before 2pm, an earthquake reaching 5.8 magnitude, shook the walls and doors of this mausoleum, better known as Central Prison.  I was shaving when the cell doors began to vibrate, which isn’t unusual.  You see, whenever the ventilation system is propelled to full blast, the cell doors will vibrate, but I didn’t feel a high powered breeze coming through the vent.  So, I went to the cell door to see if there was an officer responsible for the vibrating door.  There wasn’t.

Standing there holding my razor, I could see other faces beginning to appear in the windows of their cell doors.  Faces stamped with looks of uncertainty.  A few were compelled by their uncertainty to turn their radio dials to National Public Radio News.  When it was revealed that we had just experienced an earthquake, my thoughts immediately went to my fam.  I prayed that everyone was fine.  I was overwhelmed with relief when I caught the 5 o’clock news report.  From Philly down to Raleigh, no earthquake casualties were reported.  Whew!

I lived in Cali for 3 years.  The ground shook once in those 3 years.  Fortunately, I wasn’t aware of what was happening until the next day.  I slept right through it.  Real talk.

It makes you wonder: How can we go 1 minute without acknowledging the grace and mercy of our Creator?  I mean, in an instant, millions of lives could’ve been lost.  One minute we’re just going through the motions of our existence, and then the Creator decides to shake things up to help you regain your focus.  Feel me?

How could I not think of this building being reduced to rubble?  Philly (my boot) and my Braun battery operated razor would become relics of the author formerly known as MannofStat.  Death penalty supporters would call it poetic justice, but the favor of my Creator has granted me another expression to speak into the ears of the masses.  Ya heard?

We don’t live in a perfect world People.  The Creator knows this better than any of his creations.  The eastern seaboard was shaken, not just to get my attention, but the attention of anyone who has something at stake in this lifetime.  Humanity is still an option, People.

We have another opportunity to make things right.  Mend the wounds of hate and give humanity a chance.  Many lives were spared today.  If the Creator can do it, why can’t you?

Keep on Keepin,

MannofStat

NP 4 Life

Copright © 2011 by Leroy Elwood Mann

No Means No: Or does it?

Hotep,

With any artist (painter, singer, dancer or writer), their truth lies within their body of work.  Some opinions would suggest that Amy Winehouse’s anti-rehab anthem; “No, No, No” was an expression of a drug addict living for her next high.

Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and now Amy Winehouse have all encountered their untimely demise at the tender age of 27.  Their bodies of work revealed the truths behind talent meeting tragedy.  All artists whose lives were concluded by drugs.

I wouldn’t call myself an Amy Winehouse fan, but as a lover of music, eventually I experienced her unique sound; sound that led me to wonder if Amy’s “No, No, No” was all anti-rehab.  Or was it a desperate cry for help?  Maybe it was a subconscious plea from a dying woman.  “I need help, but I don’t need it from you.” Feel me?

My stint on death row has taught me that not all help is good help, but no help can leave you... well, helpless.  A drowning person can’t be selective about the hand that reaches out to save them.  Not if they truly want to live.  Na mean?

On the days that I feel like I’m drowning, I find myself saying:  “No my day in court is coming.  No, what about my fam?  No, I’ve got a lot of living to do.”  “No, No, No! Death row will not be my demise.”  The helping hands reaching out to save me have given me an opportunity to bounce back like the springs in a mattress.  Ya heard?

The bottom line is:  “No” can be a plea or it can be a demand.  How you choose to interpret it will be the difference between just watching or offering a helping hand.  A disease can be treated, but a disease can’t be cured unless you familiarize yourself with the source.  Word is bond!!  R.I.P Amy Winhouse.

Keep it 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2011 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Remain Silent?: Case Closed

Hotep,

Casey Marie Anthony was found NOT Guilty of murdering her two year old daughter, Caylee Anthony.  Casey opted to remain silent and not take the witness stand.  Her right to remain silent prevailed.  Her trial took place in Florida and her jurors were sequestered.  Now, allow me to show you how the gavel drops in the glorious state of North Carolina. 

There was another high profile case in the 1990s where an African American male was accused of murdering a white female.  His face was omnipresent in the newspapers and nightly news everyday in the Raleigh metropolitan area.  In this environment, the jury was allowed to go home every single day of the trial.   

For some strange reason, the judge believed the jurors would not be subjected to any media outlets.  If they were, he trusted that the jurors would cover their eyes and plug their ears, if any opinions about the case were presented in their presence.  Real talk.   

One of the hardest things about doing time is watching the free world progress while society sees your life as stagnant inside the box.   

• For the past 15 summers, I’ve watched Allen Iverson go from a misunderstood youngster to one of the greatest ballers ever, to don a Sixers’ uniform. 

• Within these 15 summers, I’ve witnessed the tragedy of 9/11 and felt the impact through the millions of Americans that lived in fear throughout the decade that followed.   

• I’ve even felt a strong sense of pride when this country concluded that Barack Obama was the remedy for our plummeting economy and our hope for real change.   

• This in turn, granted him the opportunity to give many Americans a reason to vigorously display their sense of triumph, upon the news of Osama bin Laden’s apprehension and execution.  Feel me? 

• I wasn’t permitted to attend a Sixer’s game during Allen Iverson’s tenure, as my city’s b-ball messiah. 

• I was preoccupied with concrete under my feet and steel beneath my back, during the 2008 presidential election.  So I couldn’t submit a ballot for the eventual 44^th president.  Na mean?

To keep things in proper perspective, I’m in prison because I made the wrong choice, the choice to exercise my right to remain silent during my trail.  “You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say or do, can and will be held against you in a court of law.” 

This is a law people!  It worked for Casey Anthony, but some people have been convicted because of it.  The law may as well have read:  “If you do exercise this right, you will automatically be presumed guilty. 

If you choose not to cooperate with the arresting authorities, we shall proceed to prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”  In my case, the fullest extent of the law is death.

The right to remain silent is a “catch-22.” You can freely exercise this right, but the price of exercising it may be costly.  Not only will you remain silent in a court of law, you will be silenced to society for decades to come.  Case closed!

Keep it 100,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2011 by Leroy Elwood Mann

7/22: A Day in a Life Worth Celebrating

NOTE: This blog post is about 3 weeks late. 

Nonetheless please join us in celebrating Leroy's birthday

Just Kidding Lump, LOL

Hotep,

My flesh absorbed the high temperatures of the summer sun as my mental absorbed the hand gestures and lingo of my man Geezy as he relived the feeling of being released from prison. The rec yard was his stage and he had my undivided attention. If you didn't know, this is my 1st bid. So, I've never experienced this ecstasy of freedom that Geezy expressed.

His words were like music to my ears. You see, it's my 43rd birthday and Geezy's lesson on freedom is my celebration. When my day comes, his lesson will leave this prison with me. In or out, a birthday is freedom. Na mean?

My Moms always made a big deal about my birthday. As I grew into my teen years, it was a challenge to match my mom's enthusiasm about my birthday. My 4th year of existence spawned an epic celebration, a celebration that I begged my Moms not to bring forth.  I always enjoyed going to parties, but I was reserved about having my own. The chances of my party being labeled a "kiddie hop" didn't sit well with me.

Against my wishes, my Moms hired a DJ.  My homegirl Chelle attended Girls High, so Moms left the guest list to her. Needless to say, girls, girls, girls would not be an issue.  This meant, the chances of my party being a “kiddie hop” were growing slimmer.  (Good look Chelle.  From then to now, you're still coming through, Ma). Real talk.

Our backyard was packed to full capacity. "Planet Rock" was ringing throughout the hood and no foot was left standing still. The party-goers were open like a window and this was slowly becoming the best night of my short existence.  But, as the clock neared 12:00am, I began to prep myself for the big letdown. My Moms grabbed the mic.  I just knew she was going to clear the backyard with an announcement that would certify my party as a "kiddie hop."

My teenage euphoria had dropped into my shell-toe Adidas.  I stealthily moon walked my way to the far side of the backyard as I thought to myself: "This is why I didn't want no party." My facial expression was guarded.  I refused to show disappointment when the birthday boy's mommy announces to the entire hood that the party was over. Feel me?

That's when I learned that rockin the mic was in my DNA.  Moms’ voice was like a match at the gas station.  She blew the party up with the signature mic controlling technique: "Let me hear y'all say Hooo!" The party-goers went crazy. Word is bond! Their response encouraged Moms to finish what she started. "I can't hear y'all. Say Hooo!!"

The party-goers responded in unison. "Hooo!" It was a sound that rang throughout my core. I was no longer secluded to the far side of the backyard. I made my way through the crowd, bobbing my head and pumping my fist to the music, serenaded by Moms' commands.  I reached her viewpoint and she signaled for me to join her. She offered me the gift of a motherly embrace, which I gladly accepted.
But, her control of the mic didn't end there.  As she tightened her embrace she yelled into the mic, "Happy Birthday Leroy!" I was in awe. I mean, my Moms was moving the crowd long before Rakim.  Ya heard?

I learned a lot about my Moms on the night of 7/22/82. I see that same enthusiasm in her eyes every year when she visits me on or around my birthday.  Life is worth celebrating.  Geezy expressed it today. Moms expressed it in 1982. Every year of life is a year closer to freedom and my life is far from over. Ya heard? 

Much Love, 

MannofStat

Copyright © 2011 by Leroy Elwood Mann