It’s a prison I’ve built for myself. I live with my sorrow, my tears only I know might see. Summer 1954, June 29, one of 12 kids came into the world, middle son of 5 boys. We were living on River Road in Pekin. Pops worked at Corn Products. Mother worked at Andy’s Restaurant as a waitress. Life was good. Me and my brother Ray cashed in pop bottles at the A&P store for extra money. School was not so great. We moved a lot. I was always behind and the new kid in class, with a very down home accent, Hillbillyish. In 1967, I started stealing out of cars and stores. My brother and I were busted for armed robbery in 1974. The sentence was 8 to 25 years in Menard Max Prison. My first son Randy was born in 1975 when I was doing time. Married in prison. Divorced in prison. I was in and out of prison again and again. Our son Ronnie lives in the South and has one daughter and two sons, all law abiding working family. I’m very proud of all of them. I don’t see them as much as I should. I miss them in words I can’t say or show.
In prison we called our band the River City Jail Breakers. A lot of joy, all happiness, laughter between us brothers and sisters. No prison can take that love away from us. When me and my brothers are playing music together and they play or sing a song that reminds me of loved ones who passed, my heart breaks in so many ways. Small tears I feel running down my face and hands. I pace my cell floor for hours, singing words to songs one after the other. I did not care if my celly saw me crying or heard me. I said out loud, I love you Ray. I know you can’t hear me, but I know that you feel my pain. I ask God to help me cause I can’t do it by myself. Small steps, then big steps. He’s helped me to ease my load of hurt and grief at times. I built new ways to ask for help, to have no heart for more drugs, my own poison, and no more anger. I don’t know why I’m writing about my life and beliefs. Not looking for money or fame. A fair understanding of man, and one’s own walk at life. Randall, 72, and his brothers have spent much of their lives in Illinois prisons.
