Dear Josiah,
This will be a first of many letters I write. Truth is, I’ve always thought of writing a book of letters to you, and even recently my best friend, who is your Aunt Katie, advised me to write letters to you and send them to her and she’d keep them until you were ready to read them. So years ago and recently I’ve tried, it’s no great excuse but I’d get too emotional somehow, and my hand would tighten and start shaking. I couldn’t write a sentence! Here is where technology plays in, I guess it’s easier to type away, ironically the thing that keeps people at distance is what I’m using to hopefully bring you close again. Even now it’s hard, I finally got pictures of you after all these years…and my head screamed the same thing yours would if you saw me…”Who are you?!” I last remember a baby I used to feed, change, nap and shower with, a baby I watched born at 8lbs 5.8oz (which is incredible on my part because your father is hardcore yet squeamish) and now you are tall and grown, taking selfies in the mirror looking every bit like your mom. I can’t even see myself in you, I don’t know if it’s shame or guilt that blinds me and refuses to let me see myself in you. After all, it’s been your mother that’s been there the whole time. I lost myself and flew down the drain quickly after her and I split, I didn’t deal with my hurt well and it made me into a bad guy for awhile. You are my greatest regret from my greatest moment once upon a time at your birth. I want to tell you how much I love you, but what would that mean to you right now? I want to tell you that I am really a good man although I admitted that I became bad at one time, but how can you even fathom any good? I heard a quote and I asked the question with a twist, “if a man can become a monster, can that monster become a man again?” For so long I couldn’t see how or believe it, but often we are our own worst enemy and critic. I want to say that you got your athleticism and intellect from me, but you wouldn’t know that either? I see your mother’s smile, that smile that use to drive me crazy. How do I say when, where and why things went wrong? I can say it’s my fault. But what would sorry mean to you if you have a whole life without my presence, you don’t even know if you really are missing anything. I will say that there is so much to say, and this is the start of a series. I’m going to open up and tell you everything about me and my every mistake, your mom was perfect, and as for the blame, I will bear, without regret, on my shoulders…your dad is beasty strong too. What I will tell you is that you have a younger brother that doesn’t know about you yet, but one day when the timing is right, (I wish that was now because I shouldn’t be another reason for anything withheld in your life). He’s a ball of fire, and I know he’d look up to you because the young man I’ve heard about is nothing short of amazing. Baseball is all you, I never played it but your little brother Treyvan just started. He is 6. What I will tell you is I have fought to become a better man and I will succeed because you deserve a great father once I am able to come back into your life. I feel I don’t deserve a chance, but I will fight in every way that you can’t see now, but that will manifest one day within you. I won’t just be a father that’s been to prison, I will be a great example, a patient, humble, encouraging and loving father able to provide from doing what I love, because no matter the mistake, if you believe, and have the right people in your corner, you can do anything. So with that said, you have an Aunt to meet that has been in my corner and helped me want more and see myself beyond my past and as she knew me to be. But that’s in another chapter. I’m not a traditional type of person, I write as I feel although I’m organized, so I hope you take this rollercoaster ride with me. I’m tough but I’m a sucker for a love story, so I got this idea from the notebook. You are the love that I hope against all odds comes back to me one day, if not for love right away, then for answers. Finally…I can breathe, though my chest is tight and I may still tear up looking at your pics. I could go on but I’m going to restrain myself and do this step by step. I’ve given you one goodbye that lasted so many years, but never again, I will say goodbye many times because I’ll be coming right back many more. Goodbye Josiah, I love you
Sincerely,
Your Father
Russell H. Wardlow
p.s. I hope you don’t mind if I share my letters to you, it’s how I heal and stay open and honest. I’ve hid long enough, truth is for the light son.
Mercy
M- Power
We need to help bring fourth more trailblazing feminist like Supreme court Judge Ruth Bader Ginsburg..she will either be a spark that stood amongst flames, being seen only in the moments she needed to for the greater good of women, decenting her opinions without worry of her all male colleagues, bringing fourth new laws. Equality as it is, and the women, as far as cultural economical political and societal advancement, for the most part in this millennium, have all, either knowingly or unknowingly, profited from her Consistent staunch and brave stances. So women, help your sisters, see themselves as equals and worthy, don’t compete and thwart each other, fighting for identity under a mans arm or workforce. Men, empower and praise women as the queens of life wisdom and emotional intellect that they are, don’t just them as jewels to wear and own, but polish them as priceless relics. In the words of the late Aretha Franklin,
“R E S P E C T” this is not a mans world, its a world of people, don’t lose that important common ground. Not color, not sex, not belief hierarchy, but a human kind. No one above all, but all above one, lifting each other up. I’m not against religion nor religious people, but just like in politics, but some not all people, who hold power over our institutions and messages aren’t always the best fit, and those dynamics cause suffering for so many. Mankind power is empower is M-power.
Questioned
Maybe I ask questions because I’m questioned
maybe I ask because I question being sequestered within a quotient
maybe I ask because some pleas and bargains just aren’t worth quoting
maybe I ask questions within this quotient because legislative quotes deem me as quota
when will my opinion count
when will I be heard
when will I be more than count
living inside of this herd
how can I live to take power from words
when now I live to empower through words
how can I live up, yet kicked down
how can I not give up once let down
how can I impress when compressed, I’m depressed
how can I impress when depressed living suppressed in pursuit of success under a title that sees me as much less yet still striving through too much stress
where was I going with this? so many questions only exist because most answers never satisfy
so many answers only commit to temporarily gratify
is my voice any lesser because I exist inside of my wrongs
is my voice any more impactful for those that long packed away their past
is my voice any more aggressive for those too passive to feel strong
is my voice any less absent since I’m just a post away from being in the past
I live in distance with the promising hope of love
I live caged in yet my promise only peeked hope from me opening up
I live in the connections garnered as a con, so my fall is a pro
maybe you can live more in your pains because in them we’re learning to grow
you can find that the answers are in the questions you ask
questioning instead of accepting helps you become more than a past, the past, and your past
and with that, my last question asked
when will I start seeing my wounds as just scars, and not what I feel you see them as (a large gaping gash)
Prose: creation
Taboo, just because me and my sons’ mothers aren’t together doesn’t mean I can’t have a great open committed friendship for the respect of each other and the good of our kids right?! I want that more than anything. Why do people frown on that and act like all breakups or unexpected outcomes spell a permanent dysfunction? Shit just doesn’t workout at times, but you can’t forget the kids feelings, right? Because they feel more than they know how to communicate. So that’s my goal, to be a great and supportive friend of my sons’ mothers, maybe we all can come together one day for the sake of our sons. I think it can happen, I’ve seen it. I’m absent but no dead beat, many parents should seek mutual reconciliation with each other and get out of their own way and feelings because it may stunt the child’s growth. All situations are different and take more or less trial and error. There is no right or wrong way as long as you try and make a way.
Pro se Con-tint: Politics, Parole, People
Politics. Prison is governed by politics. We learn from politics, we emulate a structure, code, and a means of survival/order through politics. Politics are quid pro quo. There can’t be order without moralistic compromises. And so in prison, which is a place of disruption and order. If you aren’t a source of power/respect, in return you have less of a voice. We watch local and world news, because we worry about the world we are going back into. Will we fit back in? And how it affects our loved ones because it directly affects the energy inside these walls. Today I walked into a group of friends, (all black), speaking about politics in detail and with passion. One argued looking at the outside bigger picture, and the other took the stance of being the guy directly affected by these policies, stereotypes, and assumptions that result in the lack of chances given because of what others have done. Even more, the argument was centralized around whether our black senator that fights for the inmates-if he really gives a fuck. But I made the point, the thing about politics is you have to give to get your agenda through, quid pro quo. But It’s not easy here, we have a governor that is so pro capital punishment that he went in his own pockets to get a drug not cleared by FDA to start executions again in our state. We see, we hear, we feel and all we can do is think and debate because still a felon’s opinion doesn’t matter anyway. And they won’t let us forget that.
Warning: Rated M, for LSV
The parole board asked a convict, if he saw someone on his mom, would he help his mom, or go run and get/call the police. This answer was the decider on whether he’d get paroled or not. He said he’d help his mom, they sent him out briefly, clearly not liking his answer. When he came back in, he held his tongue and told them what they wanted to hear..”now that I thought on it more, I’d go call the police for help” politics…he had to play their game, and yet still didn’t get paroled after he told them what they wanted to hear…now take a moment and think about what just happened…now what would you do? And should that answer keep you in prison? The price of freedom…compromise in prison is likened to being a whore being fucked by the key holders until they’ve gotten every bit of pleasure drained from you, now go back to society with your head held down, or we’ll beat out every inclination left in you. Raw, but real.
People argue about debating in prison and an innocent debate turns into a heated or violent argument. No one wants to debate because they say it’s arguing. We debate a lot about whether debating and arguing are different…point is, connotations form the attitudes behind actions. In prison, it’s arguing..in politics, it’s debating..and peaceful disagreements and jabs don’t live here. We fight over brains with bronze..irony? Bronze can rival brains, but brains can’t rival bronze? Contradiction…aren’t most of our rationales? So how then can prison contrast from real life? When there’s no space to solve and heal differences, then there is nothing left but collisions. Ironically a cage forces the animal out of you, and space to roam- can supplement those animal traits within us all. Thoughts cultivated to instincts are people cultivated into animals.
Help A Father Out:
I called late to talk with my Son, he was already in bed, I asked him to sing to me before he went to sleep after I heard his cute lil yawn. He started singing the whole stanky leg song, we were laughing and I started singing with him, we was grooving together! But on a somber note, before that he told me he went to the zoo. He said he went with his whole family, and he started naming them..”my grandma, my aunt, my uncle, my cousin, my mom, my baby brother, but not you, awww” he sounded so sad after noticing for the first time that I wasn’t there but everyone else was. Still, that sad ‘aww’ echoes in my ear like every time he says “hi daddy!” when he gets on the phone. His name is Treyvan, he turns 6 August 15th! Sadly I also missed my other son Josiah’s birthday May 12th and he turned 9! My two favorite and saddest days. So can I ask a favor? If you happen to read this post, can you help me out for his bday and send happy bday wishes letting him know his father loves him, so he can get online and read all the attention/love?! Maybe he can feel his father’s love more that way because I can’t do much but I try, it’s the thought right? Also if y’all can shout out his Mom for even allowing me in his life, because it adds a lot more pressure on mothers. Thank you, even one is enough.