Getting Away

This post was originally scheduled to be posted on 7/26/2012

Hotep,

My grandmother’s homegoing took place last Monday (7/19/12).  It’s been a rugged transition for the fam.  It’s been hard for me, so I can only imagine the anguish my Moms and aunts are experiencing.  I was able to speak with Moms the day after my Nana left this realm (7/3/12).  Even when my up is down, my spiritual bond with Moms pushes me beyond the limits of the concrete and steel that subdues my physical.  And I gotta tell you, blogosphere, the Creator was truly in the midst of our phone connection.  Word is bond!

I find it unfortunate that I was unable to console the sisters of Moms and the daughters of Nana:  Aunt Lena, Aunt Bunchie, Aunt Dee-Dee and Aunt Nettie.  I deeply apologize for not sending out sympathy cards, but the truth is; the state issued cards just can’t express my condolences the way my heart can.  Feel me?

This is a grave loss for all of us Fam.  No matter how the future pans out for any of us – life is a dead end without family.  God owns the day and only God knows my tomorrow, but you can be sure my platinum memories of the fam coming together for holidays, family reunions, graduations and countless church laden events, will continue to grace the existence of a Mann getting away from a loathsome circumstance, by diminishing the primary factors of negativity, through his will to live.  Ya heard?

Judgment, disdain and hopelessness are the primary factors of negativity.  Together they form a metaphorical collage that would deem me as a lost cause.  Imagine that!  I’m referred to as a ‘murder’ and a ‘convict’ by some C.Os.  I’m harassed daily by a ‘superior’ officer who chooses to refer to me as a ‘loser.’  Real talk.

This is far from family.  This is my environment; residents seeking an opportunity to manipulate and authoritative figures throwing their weight, in an attempt to pancake my existence.  Na mean?

The loss of Nana is our constant, Fam.  I miss her dearly.  This post is my commiseration, Fam.  Despite my circumstance – I share your pain.  I’m tethered to your joys and sorrows.  If we continue to reach out to one another; getting away from the emptiness of this heartfelt loss, is only a paragraph away.  Feel me?  May your beautiful soul rest in peace, Nana. 

Stay Up,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2012 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Summer Breeze

Hotep,

The summer of 2012 has been a season full of memorable events.  Losing my grandmother last month will forever be etched into my mental, and weigh heavy on my heart.  Watching Serena Williams rule the courts of Wimbledon for the past two-months – earning the Venus Trophy and an Olympic gold medal – will always be a landmark event as I continue to travel through this physical existence.  Feel me?

The day of July 20, 2012 is more eventful than any summer Olympics.  July 20, 2012 is a day that counters the heartbreaking loss of my Nana.  At a time when my spirits were low, and I was on the brink of being overwhelmed by the humidity of despair, a summer breeze in the form of 8 pounds and 20 inches blew my thoughts of discouragement into a space of irrelevance.  Word is bond!

Daleah Janeice Mann, a.k.a. Tear is the first of her kind.  She’s my second grandchild, but the first female Mann to know me as “G-Dad.” She comes into this world not knowing her value to this fam.  Tear is the seed of realness and the fruit of all that is beautiful.  She’s years away from knowing the significance of her placement in this world and I’m sure it will be some time before she understands her G-Dad’s current situation.  Na mean?

Once again, I’ve encountered a situation that requires a fighter – living in the form of a writer – to make the most of a worthy opportunity:

Tear – a Mann made baby girl – has restored my faith in the laws of attraction.  Positive thoughts breed positive results.  Every time I look at her pic – fresh out of the womb – I’m reminded of my own significance to this fam.  Living inside a concrete box will, at times, misguide a person’s perception of their self-worth.  This environment has a tendency of cascading my existence with uncertainties that spread throughout my core like a terminal illness.  Na mean?

My Summer Breeze is now the air I breathe throughout the four seasons.  This baby girl is nothing less than a gem in the treasure chest of the Mann legacy.  Ya heard?

The summer of 2012 has showcased Gabby Douglas’ triumph at becoming the first African American to be crowned as the top all-around Olympic female gymnast.  Gold medals were contagious as Serena Williams C-walked on England in celebration of claiming her first individual Olympic gold medal.  Michael Phelps swam his way to becoming the most decorated Olympic athlete in the history of the games. 

Who knows, Daleah Janeice Mann may follow the paths set by these Olympic champions.  If not, she’ll always know that she comes from a long line of moxy-filled go-getters who embrace life’s trials as a means of becoming the best Mann this life has to offer.  You’re Mann made Baby Girl, a true landmark in my lineage.  G-Dad loves his Summer Breeze, today, tomorrow, eternally.  Word is bond!!

Much Love,

MannofStat a.k.a. G-Dad

Copyright © 2012 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Still a Mann

Hotep,

It was my fifth year of living on death row.  I can remember looking into the mirror and asking my reflection:  “Damn! Am I really here?”  You see, up to that point, I was expecting the state to recognize the grave injustice of my sentence.  For some odd reason, I believed a legal finagler would grow a conscience and admit that my trial was a sham of justice; enabling me to leave these walls of gloom behind like a distant memory.  Needless to say, my fifth year was the realization that going to sleep as a prisoner and waking up a free Mann wasn’t in my immediate future.  Na mean?

Early on in this bid, I had a very hard time accepting the ghastly decisions of Ricky Lee Sanderson (D.O.E. 1/30/98) and James David Rich (D.O.E. 3/26/99).  Both exhausted their capital appeals, a pass to the front of the express line – leading to the death chamber.  Ricky Sanderson was convinced that his state-assisted suicide was the “Christian” thing to do.  SMH.

Ricky Sanderson’s choice to die by gas would make him the last death row inmate to die by the use of this method.  The gas chamber was deemed as cruel and unusual punishment shortly after his solicited demise.  Hindering the final act of James David Rich, who yearned to inhale the state’s poisonous gas as well.  SMH.

Fifteen people were executed within my first five years on the row.  Initially, I had major issues with the exit strategies of Sanderson and Rich, but eventually, looking into the eyes of dying men will help you see the human need to end the suffering.  Na mean?  With that said; I still have issues with the state’s efforts to facilitate a request to die.

Capital punishment is supposed to be the finality of a balanced legal process.  Not an option for a person with suicidal tendencies.  Feel me?  Think about it: A voluntary execution is perceived as justice being served.  Right?  It’s been proven that a majority of suicides are grim reactions to mental instability.  So why would “Lady Justice” allow the state to execute a mentally unstable individual who chooses to abandon the official legal protocol?  The many years of serving what was believed to be inevitable justice was portent to the rubble of our legal system today.

A decade and 20 executions later, I’m still looking into the mirror.  I’ve grown immensely since my five year mark.  My literary anvils will continue to drop on your mental, because I recognize the mentality of the people who want to keep me in this box.  I know where I am, but most importantly – I know who I am.  The ugly face of capitulation doesn’t exist in my mirror.  At the beginning, the middle and end of the day, I’m still a Mann.  Your Mannofstat.  Ya heard?

Be Easy,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2012 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Keeping It Mental

R.I.P. Rachel Samuel, a.k.a. Nana

Hotep,

The confines of this concrete box prevents me from jumping in the whip and cruising to the store, to pick up some turkey bacon and soymilk for my birthday breakfast, on this my born day.  I’m unable to sit down with my parents – enjoying good conversation – as we flip through photo albums and view DVD’s of past family reunions.  And, heckling opposing players while watching an Eagles’ game with my brother D, is definitely out of the question.

Ice Cube’s urban classic, “Friday,” was the last movie I viewed with my big Sis and Nyse.  It was 1995; I remember it like it was yesterday.  Chris Tucker was still swearing and we put the pain on that jumbo box of popcorn.  Real talk.  It saddens me that we haven’t done that in so long.

A sharp pain develops in the groove of my chest when I think of how my confinement prevents me from holding the hand of my lady as we stroll the banks of Penns Landing – overlooking the Delaware River and Camden skyline – as we appreciate the sacred moments of today and looking forward to our future.  SMH.

The recent news of my Nana’s passing cuts me deep.  Her physical presence has been a blessing to my first 27 years of existence.  For the last 17 years, our interactions have been limited to periodic non-contact visits and once a year phone calls.  For the most part, Nana was one of the few who didn’t waver in her support for me.  Na mean?

This concrete box prevented me from holding my Nana in her time of physical anguish.  I was prohibited from tucking a pillow under her pretty head, or pulling a blanket up to her shoulders while she slept.  My captors denied my physical support for her in her final moments.  So, this expression is a deep warm embrace for the woman who birthed my mother; a woman under 5ft who stood tall through family strife.  A black woman who defeated the odds of surviving southern racism long before affirmative action provided opportunities for minorities.  Ya heard?

Mrs. Rachel Samuel, your value to my existence was by design.  Your story has been inspiring during the darkest times of my life, Nana.  My bondage restricted me from feeling the warmth of your tiny hands on the sides of my face, but the experience was never far from my mental.  After 96 years, you were still swinging Nana, so I thought to myself, who am I to give up the fight?  It seems God was ready to bring you home to be with our grandfather.

I love you Nana.  From the memories of you feeding me biscuits and buttered rice – to allowing me the use of your car to pass my driver’s exam.  Your contribution to my physical development permits this submission of support for you.  Keeping it mental relieves the stress of my physical limitations.  This concrete box is unable to shackle the deliverance of my memories of a sweet little lady on North 19^th Street.  Rest in peace Nana. 

Your Grandson,

MannofStat, NP 4 Life

Copyright © 2012 by Leroy Elwood Mann