A Nomad's Journey

Preface

“Sucker free, Mr. D, sucker free.” I looked hard into Crash’s eyes and saw the serious edge had been replaced with a fiery resolve that contradicted his normal jovial, self-deprecating manner. A heartfelt smile spread across my face as I considered the forty-year-old, reformed white-supremacy advocate, who in his earlier years earned his colors and his moniker by putting in time. Now, as I listened to his quiet affirmation regarding removing negative influences, I felt a connection with a man who was looking forward to reuniting with his fifteen-year-old daughter. On the day of the graduation, this same man, in front of his peers, hugged me without fear of reprisal or shame.

“I’ve gotten rid of my girlfriend. She just brings me down and is only interested in herself. I’m going to go into business with my brother when he gets off the four yard.”  The yard Crash is referring to is a classification system used in the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation that organizes inmate populations based on levels of security.  In this particular case the Four Yard was the inmate reception yard.

Crash was a custom auto detailer. He painted cars that were featured in Hot Rod Magazine, and from what I had heard on the yard had unbelievable talent.

“Are we talking better than Boyd?”

He smiled as he replied, “Better than Boyd by Burnett and James, too.” A sudden thunderous yell of “Come on, Country,” signaled the arrival of Thor, my class leader and leader of the Lakeside Gangsters.  Thor and Country were best friends and had been doing crime and time for the better part of fifteen years.

“Sorry Mr. D. I told Country to get the fuck off the handball court, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Country walked in behind Thor, appearing to be visibly upset. “Fuck you, Thor. You said you wanted some coffee so I went back to get you some…”

“It’s all about personal accountability, Country. Isn’t that right, Mr. D?” I smiled at the role playing between the two of them. Thor and Country had known each other for nearly twenty years and had “done time” together for nearly half of those years.

“That’s all right, Country. Don’t let him grind you. Just cut off his next package,” I said.

The two faced off mere inches from each other. Thor reached over and roughly patted Country on the back.

Country replied, “Ya fucker, remember what I told you earlier?”

Thor, knowing the answer, answered for him. “Deal off huh, Country?”

Country answered, “Ya, deal is gone!”

Both Thor and I laughed as we watched Country take a big gulp of the prison-made coffee. The remaining members of class nine arrived in good order, casually talking about a horseshoe game planned for later that afternoon.

“All right gentlemen—and I use that term very loosely—it’s time to get started.”

The personal conversations stopped as I now had the collective attention of 10 men, all of whom were older than me. I looked at them and said nothing as my mind drifted back to the first day, to our first meeting, when I stood in the same spot and introduced myself. A burst of laughter brought me back to the present as “The Professor” and Tin Can were at it again.  The Professor, was a former public school teacher who had been fired.  Tin Can, was a former US Navy Destroyer sailor who had a passion for the Bible and the bottle—not necessarily in that order.  The two men were constantly at odds, generally about religion, history, science, you name it. However, now the two were in one of their normal disagreements and their peers decided to egg them on. With two days left until graduation, I knew I was going to miss this class more than a little . . .