Tasting Freedom

Hey kid, it’s time to go.  

Your train leaves at 7:34 am sharp.  

Didn’t they tell you?  

No matter.  You can grab a cup of coffee and something to eat in the dining car.  Here’s the cash from your commissary account.  Yeah, it’s real—been awhile since you’ve seen money, huh?  They keep changing it on account of counterfeiters.  You’ve probably never seen bills with the new watermarks.   

Get your suitcase. Well, it’s probably more like your box or bag—“Valley Samsonite” as they call it on the San Joaquin Valley route.  Turn in your prison garb and put on your street clothes.  

Release day’s a busy one, especially when you compare it to your normal prison routine.  Lots of paperwork, appointments, instructions.   Makes the time fly, so you’re not just sitting around anxiously waiting.  

Discharge papers. 

Physical exam.

Train ticket. 

Taxi voucher to get you to your halfway house.  

Emergency number to call if something happens.  Arrive by 5:00 pm, or they’ll report you to your parole officer. Hunt you down in no time.

Already feels like a full day, and the sun has only been up a couple of hours.  Say your goodbyes.  Time to leave the brick walls and steel doors behind.  Step out into the fresh air and don’t look back.  Staff’s ready to take you to the train station.  

The taste of freedom.  

Most say it’s overwhelming.  Too much at once.  Like 31 flavors of ice cream, and all you’ve ever tasted is vanilla.  Some say freedom hits ‘em the minute the security gate closes behind them.  Some say it’s their first real meal.  Others say it takes years to feel free.  Hard to wrap your mind around it.  Takes some getting used to, but it can happen.   

There’s a stigma attached to being in prison.  Get used to it.  People are gonna be staring at you today.  They saw you get off the prison van like a deer in the headlights.  They’ve seen it before--watching you travel with your “Valley Samsonite”, fumbling with your cash, unsure of what you’re doing or where you’re going.  People just look at you differently after you’ve served time in the Pen.  Even after today, somehow, they’ll still know you’re an ex-con.  You’ll begin to wonder if you have “felon” written across your forehead.

Prison has a way of putting you in a time warp.  The world’s moved on, but you haven’t. When you come out there’s a culture shock.  

New stores.

New technology.

New ways of doing things.  

Remember your first day of school when you had to figure out how to do everything?  You were watching all the other kids and looking to follow their clues?  It’s like that.  Eventually, you’ll get the hang of it, but it’s damn awkward in the beginning.  Sometimes downright embarrassing.  You’ll be at a loss when someone says “Remember when…” because you really won’t.   There’s a gap in your life during the time you served that’s hard to explain.  Even if you want to tell the truth, most people can’t take it.  You find yourself telling a lie, when all you wanted to do was get a fresh start.

And then there’s the logistics of living.  No car.  No driver’s license.  After the halfway house, where ya’ gonna stay?  And most of all, where ya’ gonna get the money to pay for everything? Few employers are willing to take an ex-con, and any insurance will be hard to come by.  

Then there’s the social side of things.  All your friends now are on the inside.  Friends you had on the outside have drifted away.  They were the ones you should have listened to—instead of the hood gangsters in the street.  Those ole’ street friends are gonna be throwing you the biggest “Welcome Home” party you ever saw.   They’ll be wanting to pick up right  where you left off, if you catch my drift.  You won’t have to go looking for trouble, it’s gonna be knocking on your door.  Temptation is going to be staring you in the face!

 At the same time, you gotta learn to let your guard down.  Learn to trust again. Pretty tough to do after all those prison years of having your guard up.  It’s two different worlds.  The way you survive in prison isn’t going to work once you’re out.  There’re some good-hearted people out there, and you’re going to need the kindness of strangers to help you get by for a while.  The bus driver who’ll give you a free ride until you get some wheels…  The contractor who will hire you for odd jobs…  The teller in the bank who helps you set up a bank account..  Build a support system.  Take it slow.  Maybe start with some plants and a cat.

Yup!  The odds are against you.  Two-thirds of ex-felons end up back in the graybar hotel.  But that means one-third don’t.  You know that guy on T.V., Tim Allen?  He served 2 years and 4 months for possession of cocaine and drug trafficking.  But he turned his life around, and now he’s a big Hollywood actor.  And remember that guy who they made a movie about?  Went around being a conman. Pretended to be a doctor, lawyer, airline pilot--ended up writing $2.5 million in fraudulent checks!  True story.  Served 5 years, and now he works for the U.S. government!  Those are extreme cases, but it happens to ordinary Joes, too.  Ones like you.  Never become big and famous, but they make a life for themselves.  One day at a time tasting new flavors of freedom.

You’re coming out a different person than you went in.  You know yourself better now. You’ve learned your triggers and how to master your emotions.  You know what you’re really afraid of, and you can face your fears.  You’ve learned that you can survive any situation.  If you can survive prison, you can survive anywhere.    

Here’ comes your train.  This is it.  Today is a celebration!   When you get up tomorrow and take a shower, the hot water will never become cold.  You will eat whatever you want, whenever you want.  You can turn the lights on and off, anytime you want.  You’re way ahead of other folks, appreciating the small things in life.  Don’t ever forget that.  It might feel like you got out of prison, and you’re still serving a sentence.  You just gotta remember the worst day out is a hell of a lot better than the best day in.