by T. Crow
LJC was born in 1990, in the coastal town of New London, Connecticut. The oldest of three, LJC’s parents divorced after the birth of his youngest sister. With a mother no longer in their lives, the family moved to the West Coast. There they spent the better part of a decade living in places like Salem in Central Oregon, and La Jolla in Southern California.
At the age of 17, LJC quit school, left home, and joined the Jobs Corps. While living on the Corps’ campus in Sacramento, he worked in the hospitality industry. Then, at age 19, LJC got kicked out of Jobs Corps and became homeless on the streets of Sacramento. Most people would have felt deep despair in a similar situation, but not LJC.
“I loved it,” he said. “I loved the freedom and independence being homeless gave me. It gave me time to do the things I loved, like listening to music and reading lots of books.”
But survival on the hard streets of a big city could not be easy, especially for a young man without the rudimentary survival skills of the experienced homeless. When he first started out, LJC didn’t know how he was going to cope.
“I met a few people who got me through the hardest parts,” he said. “I met this mother and daughter, Linda and Angel, who were homeless like me. Linda became my mom, adopted me in a way. They taught me how to live on the street.”
LJC learned well the lessons taught by Linda and Angel, like how to apply for food stamps, or where to eat for free, like at the 
downtown Loaves & Fishes charity. LJC learned some other lessons, too, many of them the hard way. One was that winters in Northern California can be harsh.
“It could get really cold,” he said. “I remember times when I had to put on two sweaters and three coats to stay warm.”
Another lesson came from LJC’s attempt to make easy money. But a deep sense of guilt made untenable his effort at entrepreneurship.
“I tried to deal dope,” said LJC. “But I learned not to make deals with the devil. I didn’t see much of a future in it.”
Still, there was some fun to be had with all that freedom.
“I liked the peacefulness and serenity that being alone can sometimes bring,” said LJC. “I used to cruise Old Sacramento and the Westfield Mall before they tore the mall down.”
There were some scary moments.
“There was my crazy ex-girlfriend who told her boyfriend I was going to kill him,” said LJC as he rubbed the one-inch scar over his left eyebrow. “He responded very violently. I woke up later in the hospital with five stitches.”
And then it was time to come in from the cold.
“After I turned 21 I met a girl,” said LJC. “I went to live with her. I was 22 when we got married.”
But happiness and marital bliss can be a fleeting thing. By the time LJC turned 24, he was looking at a minimum of six years in prison. In addition to this, his new wife would not wait for him. Before long, more bad news came that Linda, adopted mother and mentor of homeless life, had died from breast cancer.
Now 27, LJC has a parole date less than two months away.
“I called my dad and told him about my out date,” said LJC with a smile. “He’s a delivery driver and needs a helper.”
With the family connection, a job, and a home, LJC has a positive outlook for his future.
“I’m going to keep a steady job and a place to live,” said LJC. “And I’m going to marry my son’s mother.”
Republished from “Perspectives from the Cell Block: An Anthology of Prisoner Writings” – edited by Joan Parkin in collaboration with incarcerated people from Mule Creek State Prison.
