FOUND FATHERS
An ancestor is defined as one from whom a person is descended, usually distantly — a forefather, a progenitor. I grew up with a violent alcoholic father and a drug-addicted mother. These people, who were only a negative influence in my childhood, abandoned me when I came to prison in 2004. My first year I bounced in and out of segregation for various assaults, disrespect, and contraband. One fateful day, I met my true ancestors, and over the course of six years they molded me from a monster into a decent man.
In prison we are separated into groups based upon race and charges. Going against all percepts, these men chose to save my life. Before I met them, I seemed fast-tracked toward homicide or suicide. In a place where you become predator or prey, they became protectors, saviors, and teachers.
My first day on the unit, I got into two confrontations and a fight in an attempt to establish myself. Al, Tony, and Andres, being my immediate neighbors, explained that I was making a fool of myself. Twenty-three and arrogant, I got mouthy. Suddenly, I found myself on the floor with a sore jaw and blurry vision.
Al did not cotton to disrespect — of which, I was full. I honestly lost count of the sheer volume of glares, slaps upside the head, and talking-tos I received due to my mouth. Despite my stubborn streak, Al never gave up on me. During our many talks, he discussed how he regretted the things he had done to come to prison and how he did not want me to repeat the same mistakes. He recognized the anger within me, and how it led to a life sentence. He convinced me to get involved in programs through BHS (Behavioral Health Services) and the chapel. I finally learned the proper way to act when I’m angry. In 2019, Al paroled and moved on with his life, but his impact has stayed with me.
Tony was a main part of my life for only eighteen months before he paroled. Despite the vast gulf between us, he taught me how to be a proper man. He preached respect for women (for everyone) and how to brush things off. In many ways, I molded myself after him. He told me, “Be a better man today than you were yesterday. Become a better man tomorrow than you are today.” Even with my numerous missteps, I believe I’ve finally succeeded in finding my way. We talk once in a while, and it fills me with joy when he praises how far I’ve come.
Andres taught me how to be tolerant and happy with myself. This may sound easy, but I truly hated myself and the world at large. I was consumed by an irrational and immediate hatred for those of a different skin color, religion, or belief system. I had no problem voicing this venom and would fight anyone who disagreed with me. But Andres did not put up with my indiscriminate discrimination. He questioned my beliefs and did not back down, no matter how irate I became. He kept on questioning me, and after a few weeks I became intrigued by this man. We began to talk daily to discuss faith and tolerance. One day he pointed to my self-hate as the source of my unhappiness and intolerance. It took eight long years of near-daily talks, but I can honestly say I am happy now. Andres was deported in 2021 and never got to see the new me, or to hear me say thank you for all he has done for me.
These three men, each from vastly different walks of life, have become my ancestors in spirit if not reality. They broke me down and reforged me into someone they could be proud of. So to these chosen ancestors, I say thank you and God bless. | MDS
MICHAEL DEAN SCOTT IS FROM A SMALL TOWN IN EASTERN OREGON, WHERE HIS HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER FOSTERED IS LOVE FOR WRITING, ESPECIALLY FANTASY. HE SPENDS DAYS WORKING ON A BOOK SERIES AND POETRY COMPILATION.
