Thursday, June 11, 2015

Yankee Game Not Shown in Yard

It was about the age of 12 that I was broken by the warden. I would define broken as when the prisoner realizes his situation is so hopeless that life itself begins to lose meaning. The Yanks were playing the Red Sox in Boston. The game was on TV. The warden had other ideas. The game was banned in the prison yard. Instead, I was directed to begin a gardening project. I made a run for it. The warden ordered that the guards with high powered rifles not shoot. My mother might have been still putting away the dinner dishes. I got as far as the neigbors and told them I was trying to run away from the warden. They listened, but what could they do? That night, the warden returned me to custody. The next few days were not going to be pretty. But it was never pretty. It wasn't childhood. It was jail.

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