Freedom is a slippery live wet fish in your hands

     Bloggers, after The Military service, and 3 and a half years attending College and a University here in Austin and San Marcos, Texas; and after having dodged a 12 year Prison sentence before Army duty in January 1970, I still ended up in the "Big House". The year was the summer of 1980, and I had resorted back to the undisciplined life of violence and crime that I had nursed since when I was a young boy. And because nothing was showing promise in the work field for me, I expressed my disappointment the only way that I new how. I self medicated with booze and drugs and hung out with people with basically the same problems as mine. However, during 1978 there was an Evangelist Christian preacher who had heard about me in town and who then came after me to tell me about The Delivering Power of "Jesus Christ." And I just couldn't shake him and his friend off of me. Their names were Erasmus Bosquez and Elijio Flores. And when I was at the Hays County Jail, they were there to preach to us again. And it was here that I gave my life to "Christ Jesus." So, I ended being locked up by our local police and sentenced to T. D. C. for burglaries, and assaults. In 1979 I was charged with 13 felonies of which I had been convicted of. Therefore I was sent to The Texas Department of Corrections in early June of 1980 for 6 years. And I was sentenced to The Eastham Unit which was at that time run by Kul-Klux-Klan convicts and high ranking officials there. Moreover, "La EME", was just gaining traction at T.D.C. ; especially at The Ramsey One Unit. And because T.D.C. at that time was way over crowded, convicts with short time were released early. But not early enough for some Chicanos at Eastham because they started a riot and burnt many areas at this crazy unit. And after that riot I was placed at the Tent Camp inside the fences of which was the cause of the riots. And here I meet a young handsome Black man who claims that he is a Christian and by all looks and mannerisms of this guy, he presents as saint. And when I stop to look at some art work that he is painting on canvas as he sits on the edge of his Army cot one late evening, I was surprised by the Realism of his humanoid beings that he was painting in oil colors. His last name was Goodman. So I asked him if I could look at his paintings and he pulled out many from under his cot. Then he put them on the bed and said, "Look." So I looked at them as he kept painting the one in his hand. He never looked up at me as I viewed the other paintings. But as I looked, I was in total surprised because I had never seen anything like this art ever before. And his realism work was as outstanding as any of the historical Masters. But, I knew that I couldn't show any disgust at these paintings out of respect for this priestly kind of guy. But I was disgusted deep down inside because I was staring at pure hypocrisy right in front of my face. His theme for the art was about naked Black Fallen Angels with long things that reached the length of their legs and feet. And they had wings and fangs and were evil looking. Then he looks up at me and asked me if I wanted to read some of the materials that he was putting together for a book. And as I gave him back his paintings I said, "Yeah, I will read it if you don't mind." Then he reaches for his papers and hands them to me and asked me to give him my critique to it afterwards. And what I read was an incredible fairy tale of Grimm Brothers quality that blew my mind. It was about a great love affair between a Prince, and a young Princess that had been abducted by a rival, and the struggles that the prince endured to find her. The theme was set in in outer worldly mystical Land because this young Black man was gifted in Painting and in Writing, but his work was gifted from the dark side of life. And his work was not Christian at all, and neither were his paintings. No Christian Church would hang paintings like these on their Church Building Walls. And he went to Church regularly and read the Bible daily. After I gave him back his transcript for his book, I never spoke to this guy again. And I wondered to myself, "What a waste of great talent. And he is in Prison too." I told you that Eastham Unit was a place for The Incorrigibly Criminally Insane people. And I wanted out of this nutty place. And I summitted a request to the Warden with this intent from the first month there. Man!, you guys should have been there at this Warden's Office meeting when I presented my legal case for a transfer from this Insane Prison Unit. Man, you should have been there! I was surrounded by The Klu Klux Klan and looking back at this scene, I can't believed that I made such a request. I was thirty years old and didn't care. Well I did just over a years time there and I made my first parole. I went home and in about four months time I picked up more time for felony cases and was shipped right back. The year was 1982, the same year I had gotten out. But this time I was sent to the Ramsey One Unit. And at this Unit there were more killings and violence than at the Eastham unit. And at both Units I worked on "The Line" and on "Yard Squad" as Trustee. At the Eastham Unit we had a Chapel with a Chaplain who collected a lot of Pornography magazines, and Black men who came as visiting Preachers that preached Sunday evening services at times smelling of Whiskey on their breath. Oh, but they could preach fire and brimstone sermons extremely well. And at the Ramsey Unit, they never had a Chapel, and didn't want one. In 1984, I remember that The Warden and high ranking Building and Field Officers called me to the Warden's Office. So I went and presented myself to him. And there with him were the Big Wig officials and White Convicts. Then the Warden starts to tell me why they had called me in to the office that day. He said, "Gutierrez, we are going to take you out of the yard squad and are going to place you with the Cowboys." But I told them that I had never ridden a horse before, nor did I know anything about cowboying or cows for that matter. Then they were shocked by what I said. Then the Warden says, "But Gutierrez, it states here in your Jacket that you are a cattle rustler and that you were convicted of Cattle Rustling in 1969. And it further states that two others were convicted with you. And one of them was a Fort Hood Army Captain." Then I tell them that that is a typographical mistake because I was convicted of stealing frozen butchered and boxed beef from Meat Trucks parked in a parking lot. Then the two convict Cowboys laughed when I said that and the Warden was pissed. Then the Warden asked me, "Well who the hell is this Captain?" Then I told him how Fernando and I had broke into this Captains ranch out in Gatesville, Texas while on an attempted escape from the Reform School there. And that... that Captain had already been sentenced to ten years at T. D. C. when we entered his abandoned ranch. And I said I don't know nothing about farming or ranching, or horses or cows. Then the Warden says to me, "Get the .uck out of my office Gutierrez and forget my offer to you about being a cowboy!" So I leave as I hear all of them laughing because Classification screwed up this part of my Jacket. And in closing let me tell you what they wanted from me as a cowboy, they wanted me to join T.D.C.'s huge Cattle Rustling Operations that had been going on for a long time there. And after I made my second Parole in 1985, I was watching The World News on T.V. one day and a huge story about Cattle Rustling Operation at T.D.C. was being featured. And the report said that a Ring of Cattle Rustling outfit had been busted at this Texas Prison System. The report went on to claim that many of those implicated in the Bust could reach as high as to The Director of T.D.C. William J. Estelle; and perhaps even higher than him. However in the end, Estelle dodged the bullet. And this News story went on for about a year and I told my wife this story before it appeared on the News. All she said to me was, "Dad, you have been through some shit." Yes I have, but I am not the only one. She went through some shit too all by herself. I am sure she wondered like all those people fighting to be free from some kind of fear or tyranny, and who wanted only to enjoy life abundantly and to it's fullest, why is freedom so illusive and slippery? And also thinking, why isn't freedom ever lasting? Well, I just told a story that explains somewhat for why freedom is so brief and temporary. Even the Bankers are Crooked, and those that Run our Prison System are crooked. Politicians and some Church people are crooked. Scientist and Doctors are crooked. And we are just as defective as they are. This corrupt Atmosphere in which this System was contaminated has produced people like me and others. Look at "Goodman," by all appearances physically he would qualify as a choir boy in church, and in business. And look at our infant babies, are they not on their merry way at perfecting their art and craftsmanship at being tyrants too. Man, freedom is like trying to hold on to a big wet slippery fish in your hands after catching him or her out its waters, as it is trying to hold on to its fleeing moments of freedom also. So with that I'll close and say let's sleep on that. And thanks again.                                                 Respectfully,                                                                                                                              Ruben N. Gutierrez