Makes Me Wanna Holler by Nathan McCall

Author:Nathan McCall [MCCALL, NATHAN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-78768-2
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-01-25T16:00:00+00:00

I grew seriously uptight when I got closer to parole eligibility. It was the kind of uptight where you can barely speak and your fuse is short, and everybody knows to keep their distance until you get through your hell. Dudes were getting turndowns left and right, and I was scared that my motivation—or sanity—would slip if I got denied.

I knew my case would be a tough call for the parole board. There were a few matters working against me: I was a repeat offender. I was on probation for another felony when I stuck up the hamburger joint, and both crimes involved the use of a gun. But there were also some things working in my favor. Except for a few minor infractions, I’d been a model prisoner, if there is such a thing. I’d stayed clean, obeyed the rules, and, most important, I had a supportive family to go home to, unlike many inmates, who had nowhere to go.

The trip home made me focus more on my future and try to figure out what I would do if paroled. I definitely wanted to return to college, but to study what? I’d considered studying to be a librarian when I got out. After reading about Margaret Mead’s fieldwork with the Hopi Indians, I became so fascinated that I thought I might want to study anthropology. When I read Ernest Hemingway, I thought I might be a writer.

I also reminded myself of reality as I viewed it: White people pursue careers; black folks pursue jobs. I marveled that white people made livings in so many interesting ways beyond working at a shipyard or joining the Army.

Jim had urged me to learn a trade before leaving prison, and I knew that that, too, would help my parole chances. He said most of the guys in prison couldn’t be rehabilitated “because they had never been habilitated in the first place.” I looked up the word “habilitate” and concluded he was right. The definition said: “to make capable, qualify.” Most inmates couldn’t be requalified because they had never been qualified for anything before going to prison. The only skill most of those guys at Southampton could boast of was their knuck games, their ability to throw down.

Auto mechanics, dentistry, brick masonry, and several other vocational trades were offered at Southampton, but none of that interested me. Jim, who operated the printshop for the complex, taught me how to use the small printing press and, shortly before leaving, told me about a lucrative scam he’d run. He’d printed bogus copies of the canteen cards that were distributed to inmates as their monthly pay. He gave some fake cards to needy inmates and sold most of the rest to other prisoners at discount rates for cash. Whenever he got visits, he sent the cash home to be placed in a bank account so he’d have money saved up when he got out.

I decided to learn the printing trade. I wrote the warden and state prison officials, asking for a transfer to the minimum-security St.

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