B31) More about my dad...

My dad died owing me money. That’s what I thought about when I heard the news. Breaking down and weeping in front of everyone was something I could not do.

The message was clear:

“Show weakness at your own peril”.

I thought about the money my dad owed me. I thought about the heartbreak he personally delivered on a regular basis all my life. All I would let myself think about was the negative. Then I told myself.

“He will not be missed”

My dad:

He smoked Lucky Strikes because we all know Lucky Strikes Mean Fine Tobacco. When I was just a kid my dad would send me to the store for cigarettes. He would sit on the couch and smoke his cigarettes while watching TV in his boxer shorts. He liked watching cartoons. In many ways he was just a big kid. My dad had a heart filled with an indescribable Love and Generosity of spirit. But all that good intention never paid the bills. Unfortunately my dad never cultivated the skills necessary to succeed in life.

Since the accident I am forced to spend my days with my leg elevated (on the couch). I sit on the couch and smoke (like my dad).

In my twenties dad lectured me about how “evil and unhealthy” marijuana was. He always lectured while smoking one of his Lucky Strikes. Always.

It’s a painful memory.

I had not been in prison but a couple of weeks when my dad died. The prison psychologist came to deliver the news. Stroke. I think the story went he willingly stopped taking medication and stroked out at a restaurant during lunch.

The shrink took me to his office and we talked. I was in shock from being in prison. To be honest, I had not time to deal with the death of my dad. I had my hands full trying to manage my current situation. He offered a phone call home from his private line. I gave him my wife's work number, he dialed and handed me the phone. My ex was managing a restaurant at the time.

She answered: and I asked about making a reservation for 7:15pm. Tonight.

“Party of two, last name Knight”

“That’s my last name” she said.

It had been ten months since I left home. She did not recognize my voice.

Enough said.

Because of my father’s death I was cleared for extra phone calls home while the yard was open and phones were available. I began making phone calls home to my sisters. In the middle of a conversation, a prison guard with his finger on the switch terminated the call prematurely. I asked the guard what the problem was. He told me I’d been on the phone long enough.

I was not up for dealing with this assholes attitude and bullshit so I went to see the psychologist and told him what the guard had done. The psychologist went to the warden. The warden sent the captain to explain the situation clearly to the guard.

The prison guard (asshole) was verbally reprimanded by the captain.

This is a perfect example of a prison guard fucking with an inmate for no reason other than amusement. After I moved off the yard when transferred to Cimmeron (Gladiator School) that very guard was killed by an inmate. An inmate got out of his cell after the yard got locked down for the evening, he snuck into the guards office and killed him.

I don’t think Perryville prison has been the same since that death.