On turning fifty

How the time flies. Seems like one minute you're graduating high school, the next minute you're married with kods. The excitment of landing a job with a good company becames a daily grind, and after twenty years of work, family, fun, lows, highs, you turn fifty. Age fifty to many is the last great adventure, to others a the start of that final slippery slope, to others a milestone made irrilevant by ominous times ahead; that best describes me.

Turning fifty was kind of dull for me. Yes, the office folks surprised me by decorating/trashing my cubical.There were yummy pasteries and cards lamenting my inpending need for Viagra. All great stuff, but over shadowed by the knowledge that my life as I knew it would soon end.In two months time I would be in the custody of the California Department of Correction (CDC).

Think about the last time you passed by a prison. You see the razor wire, the guard towers, the prisoners in blue or orange. You get this sick feeling like you're just driven past a terrible traffic accident. What comes to mind is, "god forbid I ever wind up there". Well I was going; oh what a feeling.

How does a fifty years old, once law abiding, citizen, close out his life? It's a desperate, relentless, but futile effort to keep his life from breaking apart. Family, friends, work are all lost, save for a few hangers on.

It's like pulling a plant out of the ground. The roots that tie him to family and community rip, snap, and tear until he is pulled loose of society. The experience was extremely traumatic, and for those left behind have become a constant burden on my heart.

In CDC I would start a process where by I would transition from a solid citizen and tax-payer to a third class subject and a tax-burden. It starts by being demeaned and stripped of dignity.Having always respected authority, and having that respect reciprocated, I was taken aback by the callous and sometimes sadistic treatment by correctional officiers.

I was told on no uncertain terms that I was "property of the CDC". I soon found out that as property I did not matter, and it didn't matter if this property was damaged.

The CDC is huge. They have lots of property like myself jammed into cell blocks as tight us can be. I turned fifty three years ago; I was a family man, with a good career, a golfer, a friend, and a citizen.

I'm now CDC property #V4xxx6.

For Broonzy write to:

Carlo Parlanti - F25457

310-1-12U PO BOX 9

Avenal, CA 93204

USA