A Letter to My Brother

This is a letter to my younger brother Davin Williams.  He’s been incarcerated since 1984.  He’s a great person and I Love him dearly.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Dear, Brother Moan

I haven’t heard from you looking forward to speaking with you.  Marie phoned me and asked for your address hopefully she’s sending something.  Did you enjoy the blog?  Hope you did.  It’s a rare time my mind cuts off from thinking, but it does when I‘m writing or listening.  Repetitive thoughts posses me still, not as much as they use to, but there still formidable.  The slightest action created laundry lists of repetitive thoughts.  Thoughts that couldn’t be halted, no matter how hard I tried.  If someone disappointed me or vice versa, my mind would run on autopilot for hours, days, even weeks.  Thinking over and over about issues that didn’t exist, but real in my mind.  My mind had catalogs of reruns, my Father’s death, my Grandmother’s death, Mother’s death, and your incarceration. There are others this letter can’t contain because of space.  Life’s situations that replayed in my mind over and over again, nonstop.  Ask my wife.  Especially my professional football career coming to a sudden end.  The fate of my Mother and my siblings was on my back, their salvation for a better life.  Was it fair?  It was there fair or not, I had no guidance to understand life at that time.  When my knee collapse so did my fragile mind.  I failed.  That’s all I knew, I failed.  I failed immensely for the first time in my life.    I didn’t possess a higher consciousness of awareness to deal with that.
I was only 23.  I was a child.  So I kept silent, that’s what children do.  Don’t they?

When I called Statesville Penitentiary on July 4, 1990 to tell you our Mother’s dead, it was one of the hardest day of my life.  I’ve never told you that.   Imagining what you felt, such news in that manner.  It hurt me to do that and reading the words I cry now.  Our Mother was everything to us.  She only cared about her children.  She gave her life for us.  In the end, I felt I felled for not getting her out of that apartment, out of the “Ghetto.“  It sent me twisting.  Twisting like a  Hurricane, into the world of Depression, Drugs/Alcohol and Amoral behavior.  Things I never considered, I was living bro.  The depression was the toughest, because it lives on repetitive thoughts.  One repetitive thought for years, was the promise I told her.  “Mommy, I’m going to buy you a new house when I get older.”  I felt since God didn’t do it for you, I will.  Remember those words as if I said it yesterday.  Dude you know how hard it was growing up.  Watching her cry because she couldn’t get us something for Christmas.  No food.  No clothes.  I would asked God, “How could you let my Mother cry like this?”  What did she do to deserve this? I see her pray to you, send money to you, send us to church for you.  What did she do to deserve this?  That made me hard.  It harden me to everyone, people, religion, God.  My thought for so long, “F— God, religion specifically. Damn you for taking her hopes and spitting them in her face.  What did she do?  Someone save her, I tried.  But I felled, She died lonely.  As lonely as she was on those Christmas eves.  Man I felled.  You couldn’t imagine my pain.  She died from a massive heart attack, on the very floor, in the very apartment, I promised to take her from.
She was only 46.

In 2005, I began to search for my life, my real life.  The journey, solo baby, like my Mother’s journey.  Spiritual journeys are expeditions to unmask fake public persona, quasi-character traits, revival of a real you, despite years of worldly conditioning.  Some of us make it, some us don’t.  Its hard.  Man its hard.  Its not easy to redo 20+ years of thinking in a certain manner.  Behaviors led by unchecked impulses, no matter how unnatural or unlawful they were.  One thing about worldly conditioning of the mind.  You can’t see well, your mental vision, blurred.  Blurred beyond normal comprehension,  a low consciousness of thinking makes the behavior OK.  My level of consciousness  since 2005 has risen.  As Kurt Franklin, song says, “Imagine Me.”  Can you believe that?  Imagine Me.   A changed Man, only few people know this.  My life has a driven purpose now.  I trust in something.  This roads’ hard, most of the time its just Bub and I now.  We’re undoing a why of thinking we both had for a long time.  Its hard to find fellowship in this walk.  Bub has her church and Women’s group and a few stand up friends.  So she during better then I am in that compartment.  I have a few stand up men, they won’t let me starve if they can help it.   However,  this is the loneliness I’ve being in my life, concerning people.  A cats don’t mess with me as much, mainly because of my past persona probably.  They keep up macho front, I use to do it, so I understand.  “I’m mad at you cha.”  Men don’t understand when you talk it helps to get out the pain that may reside inside you.  However, I’m finding ways to reach out, patient, blog writing, etc.  Most of my fellowship resides with a small number bro not because of who I AM, some don’t realize yet who I AM.  I forgive them.  I hope this letter bring fellowship to you.  I’m putting this letter on the blog Bro.  My blog’s a record of the metamorphoses from Fake-Man to Spiritual Man.  I’m here for you.  You’re here for me.

There’s no separations between us, Our Mother raised us better than that.

I Love you so much, Brother Moan, Stay Strong.  Believe, have faith.

Get back at me, baby.

Love
Amp, aka raw28

Tough Times by RAW, Pt. 3 continues

True Factual story. (This really happen, no b.s.)

I called my wife from prison one day as usual, same time every day, 11:00am. She told me that a person called her and asked her for some money, a male, a family friend. Now I don’t allow cats to talk directly to my wife for no reason. Just not a good business, I don’t want any confusion or misunderstanding. You need something, talk to me. Consequently, I don’t talk directly to another cats’ wife, I‘m uncomfortable with it. In the past we gave this person our love, assistance and money whenever asked if possible. If someone would say that my wife and I wasn’t a caring couple there lying. We give everything we have with no expectations in return. This person knew I was incarcerated because we gave them one of our vehicles a week before I surrendered. They knew our situation we shared it with him. My wife told me this person asked her for some money. Money! Fucking Money! I’m locked up and you ask my wife for some fucking money! Damn, that a bad moutha. Well, I immediately called this person and let him have it. We don’t have nothing, our life has just changed forever and you’re still asking us to give you something. This person hadn’t even asked her how I was during, this was 2 months into my bit. He didn’t send a letter or ask my wife if my children needed a biscuit. I’ll never forget his response, all the days of my life.

“If I knew it was going to cause this shit I wouldn’t have asked her.”

That blew me away. That was my older brother. I love him.

Who really cared?

I was incarcerated for violation of my probation in February/2008. In February of 2007, the US Secret Service had me in a electronic conversation with one of their informant. They came to my home two days before Thanksgiving and gave me the news somewhat. You see they don’t have you at first until you fill in the blanks for them. If they have you they arrest you, fuck mouse and cat games, they hook and book baby. Also, this was another case of will you cooperate with us. However, I believe this agent knew I worked alone unlike the FBI. You see the FBI never considered that I was the big fish. I didn’t worked for them in this instance also, as a result, my probation officer has to take it to the judge. Again, United States of America vs. Robert Williams. This time I didn’t let my wife come in the courtroom. I went alone. Life’s sometimes a solo act, its just you and this was that time. How much time was I going to get, didn’t know. But I knew I was going to prison. You don’t get second probation chances. I know self-righteous individuals may say, “You should have learned your lesson.” This was part of the lesson. I told you this is a 3-year journey. When I told my wife they gave me 5-months after coming out of the courthouse, She replied, “Ok,” never blinked and she never cried, at least not in front of me.

The first things you see when you come from under this viaduct in Terre Haute is this massive white structure. The U.S. Federal Penitentiary, as big as any stadium I every played in, at least it seemed like it. Under my breath I was amazed at the size of the building, damn who built something that big to house people.

The biggest thing I was concern with was my family. I had to surrender to Federal Prison camp. Terre Haute, In. June 9th 12:00pm.

Now tell me what the fuck am I supposed to do.

What person would help my family while I was gone? Who would have some form of compassion? Who asked Debra if my children needed a biscuit or some groceries. Not many people knew I was leaving but enough knew. These people have taken care of my family with time, compassion and God-caring Love.

Leonard & Beverly, Erica and Tiff McCall
Jay & Treveda Redmond
Al Owens for checking on your boy.
Lemetra Curry (Thank you for helping me the first time and helping
my family now.)
Al & Kathy Eggeston

My siblings and in-laws, for all their prays.

They cared about the well-being of my children and wife.
They found time to helped.
They offered help.
They sought out to help.
They made no excuses not to help.
We couldn’t have survive without their help.

God bless them.

They cared.

I received letters from these people.

Beverly McCall
Ted Coopwood
Jay Redmond
Tracey Wright
My wife and children.

Thank you dearly.

Orlando, I know when you found out you tried to get at me, thanks young brother.

….To be continue

Tough Times by RAW, Pt. 3

This story is a factual story and if it resemble you, its not you. Unless you told me the story.

This person years ago revealed his bother’s tough times he was going through while we were talking. As he continue telling of the sibling’s drug addiction, unsuccessful employment and other misstep. It was obvious to me he had a gleam in his eye. It was almost as if he rejoiced in his brother’s position. He then told me how his brother received all of the accolades growing up. That he wasn’t acknowledge as well as his brother. That his parents, and other sibling showered him with praise and worship him while growing up. His brother could do no wrong. The brother’s tough times was a welcome site, because the other brother could say what he has always secretly felt.
“I knew I was better then him.” This is what he said in a round about way several time while he told the story.

Hmm. Tough times also show who other people are.

My journey has revealed as much to me. It redefined my definition of things like marital Love, Friendship, sibling’s Love and other personal factors. Three years ago my journey began not because of catastrophic event. But after years of thinking and feeling a certain way, a cancerous way. Years of alcohol, drugs and reckless behavior had taken a toll on me. I wanted it stop, I wanted to live and feel different. In August 2005, I was arrested by the FBI in Sparta, Wisconsin on Possession of Counterfeit Devices. That change I was looking for had just arrived. I’ll stick with the arrest and subsequently my questioning by the U.S. Secret Service in 2007 which led to my incarceration in the U.S Federal Prison Camp in Terre Haute, Ind. earlier this year in 2008.

My initial arrest in August 2005 was the best day of my life. If the FBI hadn’t become involved in my life, I would be dead, or serving a lengthy sentence for Homicide. In a few years, I become a monster, unrecognizable to myself and others. As with normal procedure the first things the Feds want you to do is roll on somebody. You know “we want the big person,” not you, “give us the big fish,” and we’ll make everything go away. For the next eight months I did not deliver a “Big fish,” it was no big fish to deliver. If you don’t have someone to deliver you’re going to prison. Well lucky me I didn’t go to prison and I didn’t give no one. I got probation in November of 2006. Less then 10% of cases end in probation. You see I had nothing in my background, no record, I mean some violence here there, traffic tickets and such, but nothing to send me away. You know during the whole episode I wasn’t afraid, I mean I guess should have been, but I wasn’t. I’ll talk about this later, fear. (My friend Rod Davis came to Sparta, Wis. to pick me up in 2005, big ass friend. Toughest man I’ve met in my Life) All of the court preceding for my case with the FBI only my wife came to court with me. Although, I made few people aware of my pending legal troubles, it was Debra and I in court alone. Oh yea, here’s something you may not know. In Federal court its just you on the Docket for that hour. The United States of America vs. Robert Williams. Life is not a game.. If you’re timid, don’t fuck with the Feds, they’re going to slam your ass.

Will finish later today, got to go look for work for the truck.

…to be continue

How my life continue to change?
The People who stuck by me through the shit…and the ones who didn’t give damn.

Tough Times by RAW, Pt. 2

(Pt. 2)

The Journey through life isn’t easy. Some say it’s a flat out “Bitch.” As life become difficult we tend to pretend more. We start to believe in illusions. The performance of our false sense of self is Oscar worthy. We put on such a display of false self, we fool friends, family members, and everyone in our life. But the greatest deception is left for ourselves. I can’t tell you how many times I put on charades of life’s success based on past athletic accomplishments. Use of sport antidotes used as forms of deceptions Houdini would envy. Life’s situation that rattle me faster then leaves in Chicago’s winters were kept silence. Things that rung my heart I couldn’t discuss. Many of my contemporaries did not discuss there pain from life situation either. We lied to each other. Silence sometimes is deception. We didn’t want to admit life’s situations got our ass. When we displayed emotions one day it was never discussed again. We dismiss it as a moment of weakness. Men cry more alone then women. Women cry together. We believe the illusion that we controlled life, the way we thought we control sport contest. We believe we could will life situations like a ball. To have it our way only if we worked harder or was better than the opponent, life. Little did I know, I was my opponent. Life’s situation didn’t create my pain, I did. Since there was, “No Crying in baseball,” there was no crying in life. I wish I cried more as a grew into a young adult. Mostly, I wish someone to talk to. Someone who would allow me to cry and feel supported, comfortable and understood. Instead I had been conditioned not to cry, not to seem weak, stay strong.

“It ain‘t a damn thing I can‘t do.

Yes, it was I couldn’t cry.

Life’s situations makes you cry sooner or later. You’ll learn or you’ll remain in a chronic state of pain and suffering. My evolution has come to understand this phrase all to well. In my past, I tried to shape life like I thought I shaped football contests. I thought I was in control. “I created my pain, not life‘s situation.” I didn’t get this until my Journey began 3 years ago. It has been a hell of a journey to get where I am today. My life’s pain was a 43 years veteran of controlling my thoughts. 43 years of false ego. 43 years of friendship with others who don’t cry. The Broadway show goes on. But this monkey is out of the cast. My existence isn’t to accomplish anything worthy of attention by worldly observers. I don’t have to be life’s All-American, its an illusion anyway. I was tricked, by my false self. If you are suffering, you’re the punisher. If there’s pain, its you. It’s the way you think that’s giving you your pain. The more you gain the more you’ll lost. You’re plugged up to the Matrix. There’s no job description, title, material ownership or wealth that will sooth you. Shit more is better. However, the more you gain the more you lose. Not you however, you can control anything, what’s that saying, “Just put your mind to it.” Its your mind that has you trapped. Its a vicious cycle.

To be continue…

Tough Times by RAW

Tough times don’t make or break you. (Part 1)

That’s correct, tough time don’t make or break an individual. They never had and they never will. It’s a empty statement void of substance. Tough times illuminate who you are not who you can become. Sport participation is working hard for an invisible goal. Consequently, hard works doesn’t guarantee anything either. No matter how hard we worked at the goal of becoming National Champions, it never happened. So what was it all for? The Journey. It was the Journey that reminded us each day who we were. The Journey provided us with practice techniques that train our muscle and mind to react instantly. Without thought. Without Hesitation. Without fear. In sport you remove thought, hesitation, and fear because they hinder your pursuit of the goal. Whether that goal is to score a basket in a crucial moment, or to throw the winning touchdown with no seconds on the clock. Thorough constant practice and real game situations are these skills built up to supernatural talents. You know you’re going to make the play. Your teammates know you’re going to make the play. The fans know, the concession workers knows it, everyone knows it.

Now what happens when you don’t.

Tough Life’s situations are those that don’t go as plan or as expected. Unlike a sport contest life’s situation can suffocate a person. Circumstances of life that are so debilitating you think you can’t survive them. Some of us don’t, some of us do. Losing parents, children, jobs, money, freedom and a host of life situations leave lives in ruins. Many books, DVD’s and videos are sold offering help in dealing with life’s situations. Some I’ve read some I haven’t. My practice analogy, family, spiritual leaders, and a small group of friends helped me to begin to deal with life’s situations better. I for a long time couldn’t cope in moments that were debilitating. Life’s situations would paralyze me with fear, anxiety, frustration and the worst symptoms of all–“Repetitive Thinking.” I’ll get back to that later.

Practice in sport builds unbelievable consciousness of faith. You believe your goal is accomplish before you take the field. Support with good teammates, coaches and a willingness to work hard, you think you can not only win the game, but date the whole damn cheerleader squad. That kind of support secures your faith in game situations. It develop a high consciousness of faith void of thought. You don’t even think about the ‘What if’s.’ Thought removed from your psychic, removed from your preparation and conversation. You have unshakable faith.

Alert!!! Life is not a game.

To be continue…

“Happy Holidays, Damn it.”
–Gumby