I was born the youngest of five on February 21st, 1971 on Kinsman Avenue in one of the roughest projects in Ohio called, Garden Valley. My conception is still a mystery to me 32 years later due to a mother and siblings that won't talk about my deceased father. My siblings are only halves, and to me, I was very much treated as such by all of them, including my mother. Garden Valley was, and still is full of murder and mayhem to this date. To certain degrees, death was learned at an early age in Garden Valley by way of seeing it all of the time, and due to my religious upbringing. So, already knowing what it was. I wished for it in my first personal experience at the age of three (3), through fear, tears, and physical (not sexual) pain. I slowly began to change from the little boy seeking Love, to one adapting to his environment by force. After my grandmother died, my family moved into her house on 105th and St. Clair. I really didn't know her either. Things didn't change much. They just became covert. The pimps, and the pushers were just slicker, and had more "polish" in the ways they did things in this area. Because to Love properly was not taught in my house, I really only knew how to speak out with anger and aggression. Along with continuous adaptation to my environment for survival, I committed my first crime at the age of nine (9), making the front page of one of the biggest newspapers in the city of Cleveland at the time. As years passed, my search for Love turned into resentment to life and bitterness as my criminal activities began to accelerate. I began to smoke weed and drink beer at the age of twelve (12). I broke into houses, stole cars, shoplifted, robbed stores, and even protected smaller guys for money. All the while, being bullied by older guys who I would later in life make fear me in one way or another. By age fifteen (15), I had been to detention homes a few times and to several group homes, gaining the reputation for being "crazy" . I came home my last time at the age of seventeen (17), and began to sell cocaine in its various forms. I had locks on some of the biggest drug blocks in Ohio at that time. Those blocks, and bad association also helped break me down to a user of my own supply (and other's supply) that took me through a few near death experiences by way of drive byes, turf wars, and even contemplations of suicide. Instead of sending me to a rehab center, the "Honorable Courts'' sent me to the Ohio State Reformatory for an ounce a day crack habit, and I was only 18 years old at the time. I actually caught the case at 17 years old, but the judicial corruption waited until I turned 18 and charged me as an adult. The "Old Mansfield" was nicknamed "Castle Grey skull," and properly dubbed by the actions within. My first day in the prison, a guy three times my physical size chose me by word of mouth to be his "boy" (fag). I used to hear grown men scream and cry at night, and silently prayed to God for them to stop, but knew that they wouldn't because I knew what was happening to them. Back then, the "Three F's rule" still applied. You know what the first one is. The second one is to "f"ight, and the third is to hit the "f"ence. I don't have any escapes and I'm still a virgin! However, because of making it through so easily and bitterly, I allowed myself to be "systematically mentally manipulated" to believe that, "The joint ain't nothing. I can handle it"! I just didn't understand the repercussions behind making it so easy for me to come "Right back;" Leaving the things that mean the most. At least, not until later. I was on the block "servin" (selling dope) the first day I came home. I had to "get mine." My next sentence and all! I stayed on the streets for ten months and was back in prison for more drug related offenses. Only this time, I had a six month old son, and my girl at the time was pregnant with my daughter. I left them to fend for themselves. While doing those two years. I did a lot of studying. But! My main texts were, Iceberg Slim, Donald Ghoens, every book about the Mafia, and listening to "O.G's" of their field that were still trying to live off of their past glory. Not really learning anything from their mistakes or my previous sentences. I still held animosity in my heart towards those that I felt owed me something and or who had disrespected me while I was down. I began to apply what I learned in those books, and from real life street legends my second day home, while looking for a legit job as a front, and because I was really tiring of the hectic "Life." The habit of "The life" won out! Five months later, I was looking at more than 165 years as a minimum sentence. The tail wouldn't have mattered. I wouldn't have lived long enough to see the parole board on the first part of the sentence. Through the course of this sentence, I sold drugs, had knives pulled on me, was a bodyguard, have been assaulted by both inmates, and staff, have done about 31/2 years in the hole off, and on (2 straight), and have had a host of other inhumane things done to me (nothing sexual). Not by way of being scared or broken, but by way of being tired, "Post Traumatic Growth and Development" I now sit rehabilitated by choice, and very much God fearing! Through the course of my life, I've had many relationships. Both, good, and bad. I have studied a multitude of things, have been on many spiritual journeys, and have even been in a couple of mental institutions. All of these situations by way of God allowing me to learn from my mistakes has helped to groom me into the "Man" I am today. Some who feel that they know me will say that my life didn't seem all that bad to them. However, please be advised that ten people can walk down the exact same street and smell the exact same rose, but relate ten totally different experiences. So this is my life, through my eyes, and the lessons that I have learned. I hope that you have enjoyed what you have experienced, from my life!
