Gonzo
My name is Gilbert "Gonzo 67" Gonzalez. I'm 43, married, with 3 boys, 2 girls, and 1 grandaughter. We live on a ranch in northern New Mexico. I enjoy writing because it allows me to express myself and escape my surroundings. Hope you enjoy what I've written; it's who I am!
If I Was President…
by Gonzo
If I was president, I would be the first “Latino” ever to be elected to the Oval Office.
I would be the leader of the best country in the world, and make sure that we the people lived up to that title. In order to be a leader, I would have to have been a good follower. It takes a special kind of person to do that. To be the greatest you have to become the least. Before I could serve I would need to know how to be a servant. We can’t do something like lead unless we can be led.
I would bring our troops home and begin to rebuild our financial system. I would bring trust back to the people who have lost it over the years. Our so-called leaders have forgotten how to be servants to those who have elected them. Everything has become about them and money, not us. From the richest nation to the most in debt, and to whom? Ourselves. That’s the messed up part – we can’t even balance our own budget but we are trying to ease everyone else’s. How is that logical?
Well, I guess that’s why I’m not president – I would DO and not SAY.
Untitled
by Gonzo
Here I sit watching the many faces of my peers,
trying not to shed any tears.
Seeing some of their fears,
seeing how father time has gotten us all our of line.
Wondering why I keep coming back –
Man, this is wack.
What’s happening to all our dreams and hopes?
Can we change our path in life?
Something without all this strife?
Looking at the clock on the wall,
seeing homies playing hand ball.
Catching a glimpse of that bird soaring up high.
Wondering…
Why can’t I?
Courage
by Gonzo
Courage is to see your problems all the way through no matter what the outcome is or may be. It will only make me stronger and the better for it.
The dark side is just saying “fuck it” and becoming depressed and dying totally and completely on the inside.
I can let it make me or break me; the choice is mine.
Do I choose life, or life with death on the inside?
Journal entry
by Gonzo
Well hell, here I am on another fuckin’ lock down. Why? I know but don’t care, can’t do a damn thing about it anyway. Probably be on tier rotation in the morning too. My biggest complaint is that I missed out on Jiva and Wendy’s classes today, and that really sucks.
Got another new cellmate, his name is F__, he’s about 58 years old, cool and a little scared. Couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number except his bosses. Well here I go doing what I can to get this old man out, his bond was only $250. So to make a long story short he got out this morning. He reminds me of a modern day Kris Kringle - white beard, a twinkle in his eyes and full of little stories. It’s funny, I always seem to end up with the old ones or the ones nobody wants in his cell. I don’t mind, I figured it out – I was put in here not only to get myself straightened out but to help those who maybe don’t know where else to turn cuz’ they don’t know anyone or are afraid to ask or offend.
I don’t know, but I do sleep better at night knowing I was able to help even if it is or was just to lend a helping hand. I thank God he gave me the ability to help others even if it never comes back to me from those I help. I just hope I can do the same for my family and be the best husband and father I can be. Let’s see who God puts in my path. I’m sure it won’t be long.
Well it’s another day and we are on tier rotation like I figured. Oh well, I guess it gives me time to reflect and write in my journal. Maybe I’ll get to send my stuff with Wendy to put online since I haven’t done that lately and my wife is wondering why.
Untitled
by Gonzo
I was “Cruising on a Sunday Afternoon”, when I saw her “Sitting in the Park” – it was my “Angel Baby”. She’s the one who makes me feel “Comfortably Numb”. She jumps in and we “Head out to the Highway”. Parking at “Doc Longs” we do a “Misty Mountain Hop” over to the “Wishing Well”. We look into each other’s eyes and know at that moment it is “More than a Feeling” that we had for each other. She knew then she would no longer be a “Lonely Girl”. So we leave and head out to “Cheers” and down a couple of cold ones. Now that we’re feeling like it’s on we find ourselves “Flying High Again”. We find that we’re getting ourselves “Disturbed”- I came “Down with the Sickness”. I had to be set to “General Hospital” where I was told I only have “One Life to Live”. It turned out my “Angel Baby” gave me STD’s. So I turned to the “Guiding Light” asking for forgiveness because of my “Passions”. I remembered being the “Man on the Silver Mountain”. I was reading the “Diary of a Madman”, hoping to see the sign of the “Southern Cross”.
Journal Entry
by Gonzo
Well I talked to my wife today and as always it just made my life all the brighter. I woke up to a day filled with a dark cloud of questions, and as the sun came over the horizon it wasn’t getting any brighter. So in my stormy cloudy day I decided to make someone else’s day bright by calling the one person I knew would benefit the most out of hearing me – my wife. As I waited for the call to go through I began to think of all the dumb shit I’ve done to cause the only light in my life to dim. To my surprise she accepts my call and I find that she has put more money on her phone, which tells me she has finally received her financial aid check. Awesome. Well as I began to speak, and she being who she is – my soldier of light, my beacon in the night, the lighthouse on the bay of a rocky life – my cloud starts to dissipate and the sun begins to shine upon this very wilted tree. Her voice brings the water of life I need to spring back and stand strong in the midst of my stormy season.
I get to listen to the sound of my daughter playing in the background. I get to talk to my cousin, who at one time lived with us at the ranch, while she was finishing high school. It all began to clear up as the sun was beaming down and a breeze was cooling my face. It dawns on me just how important I really am and just how much I do belong. My life just became all the better. To find out my family is coming down to see me this weekend is all I need to get through the rest of my days in this fucking shit hole. As I count my losses I find that even if they seem bad and I may never get those days back the two treasures that I have waiting for me out there will always disintegrate the thickest of jail walls that any man could build and melt the strongest bars that anyone could weld.
Sorry, I Didn’t Mean It
by Gonzo
Well, here I am still waiting til’ the day I hear my name and they say, “Roll it up!” I’ve got 69 days left in F6, cell 5 at MDC, and then I’m off to another jail in another county. Man, this really sucks. The only things that will change are the location of the jail and the inmates. Seems like this will never come to an end. Yeah, I know it’s only temporary, and I’ll only have to stay in that other jail for a week or so, but I’m just so tired of having to start over when I do get out. See, it’s not only the time I spend in here that is hard, it’s going home and having to face the people I’ve hurt and let down. I left a lot of people, like my in-laws and my wife and kids, with a lot of unanswered questions in their minds and pain in their hearts.
Boy, I really fucked up this time. The shit I said to my father-in-law out of anger, the move back to Albuquerque because I wasn’t willing to say I was wrong or that I was sorry. Was it pride or just plain old stupidity that caused my actions? Maybe a little of both. I just wish I could take it all back and move on, but no I had to do it my way and bring my wife and daughter down with me. To make matters worse, we didn’t even have any money or a place to stay. A friend of ours opened her two-bedroom apartment up to us, and we all made the best of a very bad situation. Then my wife and daughter go to Mora to visit for a couple of days and like a dumb ass, I go on a crack mission when my wife is on her way back to Albuquerque. She is due back any minute and I up and leave the apartment key with the next-door neighbor and take off to the bus stop and head down town.
Yeah, I thought about going back and just crying in my wife’s arms and telling her what I was about to do with our little bit of money, but that’s all it was – a brief thought. Damn, I regret not listening to my heart. My mother-in-law was furious and I lost my place to live. See, our roommate didn’t like drugs so I just made a bad situation worse. I was homeless and without my family. All I could think about was what a low-life piece of shit I had become. What kind of husband and father would choose a homeless drug life over his own family? Me, I guess.
Well, our roommate had a change of heart and allowed me to come back. All was going well until I relapse. There was to be no coming back from this one. I had leaped off the highest cliff on K-2 into the deepest part of the sea. My family had no choice but to move back to the ranch and I’m left to my lonely, self-pity filled drug life. I go on the run from probation and have two warrants out for my arrest. I’ve really made a mess of everything and it only took me three months to do it.
Now I’m here in jail, waiting to get out, and wondering how I’m going to deal with all of the fuckin’ chaos I’ve left behind. I feel like my name should be changed to “Hurricane Gilbert” because of all of the destruction I always seem to cause. I’m lucky that I even have a place to go when I get done with all this. I really have to try to use the tools that I’ve learned to not go back to the drugs. It will be hard at times but I know if I can talk and express what is going on inside, rather than just run or try to sweep my problems under the rug, I’ll make it. I wish I could just talk to my mother-in-law and my father-in-law – I would feel so much better. But would they feel any comfort; would it ease their broken hearts? I wonder…
Damn, Gilbert, you really have a way of causing irreversible damage. If I could just get these words online so that they could read them, maybe they would both understand how truly sorry I am. See, it’s like this – if it wasn’t for my wife and baby girl I really wouldn’t care about anything. I would just say, “fuck this life” and move on to the next. But see, there I go again running away like I always do. It’s like Forrest Gump – he decided one day to stop running and went home to live a wonderful long life. I guess all I’m trying to say in these pages is that I’m tired of running…
Will someone please help me find my way home?
Borrowing
by Gonzo
Being adopted has brought a new meaning to the word “borrowing” – See, I was 12 years old when I found out that I was not who I thought I was. In turn, I became like a chameleon and would adapt to my surroundings, changing as I went along, having to borrow a little bit from everyone around me to be able to blend in so I would have the sense of belonging.
Sometimes it would get exhausting having to change colors every time someone new would join the group. I would make the proper adjustments, and continue on – borrow a little from this person, maybe a cologne scent or the style of their clothes. Every time it got harder, and before I knew it I had forgotten who I was and had to slow down and reexamine myself to figure out who I had become over the course of my life. My borrowing days have since ceased and I am happy with who I am and have become. Maybe in the long run it wasn’t so bad borrowing, because I’ve utilized everything and have settled for me and my own identity.
Writing
by Gonzo
Writing allows me to express my feelings and see a perfect world. It helps me to see the wise through other eyes, and helps me to maintain peace of mind. The security of my privacy is all put on paper, without the worry of who will make fun of it. I can talk to my wife, even if it hasn’t been mailed out yet. Writing gives me my freedom, even in the midst of lock down. It opens me up in ways I otherwise wouldn’t be able to express. With just a word written, an emotion can be set free. Writing allows me to wander in a realm that is mine alone. I invite you to take that journey one day – let go and just write until you find yourself in your own little world of make believe or reality – you can make the choice of where you go. Writing allows me to be me – free.
My Heart
by Gonzo
I am the kid on a swing made of a tire, hanging over a ditch playing with his little cousin Johnny.
I am the kid who always heard his mother tell him, “Wait ‘til your dad gets home”.
I am the kid sneaking a homemade tortilla back to his room.
I am the kid who plays ping pong in his backyard.
I am the kid whose hair was always cut at John Hair Design.
I am the kid who would play with his father’s firefighting equipment, dreaming of being him one day.
I am the kid who fell in love with the food at family gatherings.
I am the kid who lost his identity at an early age.
I am the kid who could trust, but now can’t.
I am the kid who loved the game, only to be played.
I am the kid in my heart.
Identity
by Gonzo
Gonzo is a person whose life can be summed up in one word – Heart. It takes one to listen and care about others even if they don’t think you do. He is trusting and knowledgeable in areas that reflect morals and values that maybe he should be listening to at times. Life’s experiences have shaped the very fiber of his being.
I have a family who cares yet are tired of the cycle in my life that needs to change.
He has ideas that he wants to share but is a little bothered by the possibility of rejection or acceptance.
Music shapes my hatred so I allow my feelings to go in old classic rock and sometimes lose myself in the moment. I still have a problem with who I really am. An adoption can strip a person of their identity before they even have a chance to establish one.
He becomes a misfit of sorts, never really even having roots, never knowing if he would have had a very different life had he not been given up.
But here I sit, wondering about who is Gonzo, and what will kind of legacy will he leave behind when he leaves this world.
I Used to Think...
by Gonzo
I used to think life would be so much easier than it has been. But because of the choices I’ve made it has become a road full of potholes and detours, leading me to places I wouldn’t have gone otherwise. But I’ve become a better man because of it all. I can travel to places I’ve only dreamed of. My life has given me wonderful children, a beautiful granddaughter, and wisdom I can in turn pass on to someone who is willing to listen and apply it to their lives.
I used to think I would be like my father and become a firefighter. Instead I’ve become the one who starts the fires – not literally, but within my family I have instigated a great deal of chaos. But now I’ve become the mediator in life’s obstacles, the patch for the pothole, and life has fewer detours.
I used to think…now I do.
Visit
by Gonzo
Wow. I’m so happy; got to see my family on the real. My parents brought my wife and daughter to see me. Boy, what a joy. My wife looks so tired but she never gives up. Like that little bunny she keeps going and going. She inspires me to never give up. My daughter is a handful, running around with her little cowboy boots on. I could see her little head bobble by as I was looking at my wife. I can’t wait to be reunited, hold them in my arms, and give my family the true sense of security that they deserve and I long for. Just those few minutes of seeing them erased months of heartache and pain; melted away all the shit we go through day to day.
Champions
by Gonzo
It’s a Saturday morning in 1981. The smell of freshly cut grass is in the air. The South Valley Little League is looking forward to the championship game of the 13-14 year old division. The field has been dragged and is ready, the mound is raked out and filled with fresh red clay dirt, and there is a new resin bag. The baselines are chalked, batters boxes set, and the on-deck circles are ready with bat weights and resin rags awaiting the first batters. Soon it would be game time.
The concession stand is stocked, popcorn’s popping, hot dogs are spinning and the burgers are on the grill. The deep fryers are hot and ready to put out orders of chili cheese fries. The scoreboards have been checked and the loudspeakers tested. Players from other divisions are here to root for their friends and check out the girls. At 2pm the crowd begins to pile in and players from my team, the Ravens, begin warming up and stretching in the outfield while the Royals take over the other field. The lineups are read, and we gather for a team prayer. It’s 4pm – game time, and we’re up first. After the Star Spangled Banner I hear, “Batter up”!
As the game begins it’s all a 13 year old could ask for – my own World Series. Can’t mess up now, all eyes are on my to start the rally.
I step up and decide at the last minute to go lefty and pull it to the left. Ball one, strike, okay, one and one, stay focused, here we go. It’s a hit! Line drive down the third base line, good for a stand-up double. It’s on, we can’t lose, no way.
It’s the bottom of the 9th, the Ravens have a 6-4 lead. The Royals have the tying run at the plate with one out and a man on 2nd. Troy is on the mound and the runner is leading off 2nd just a little to far, not realizing the catcher is signaling to pick him off. I come up behind the runner and Troy turns to see me, and throws. At the last moment the runner tries to run towards 3rd, and bam! We got him! The team goes nuts and the crown is on its feet.
Two outs and the batter is worried, it’s all riding on his shoulders now. There goes the pitch, and the batter hits a fly to right center. I’m yelling, “I got it, I got it!” and Gary hears me and stops as the ball descends into my sight. I can hear the other team yelling to try to distract me, and the crowd stomping on the bleachers. Now the whole world rests on my catching this small white ball, it’s red threads a blur as it drops towards me. My glove is open, and my eyes are glued to the ball as it gets closer and closer. I got it! Game over, we win! The team charges and dog-piles me as Queen sings “We are the Champions” over the loudspeakers.
The excitement of it all will forever keep me a champion even when I feel like life has thrown me three strikes. I will always come out victorious, and this, my friends, no jail or prison can cage, because I am a champion.
Alone
by Gonzo
It was cloudy and windy that mid-winter day. My aunt’s house was the last one on the block before the ditch. I was nine, my sister was 13, and our cousin was 11. As we sat in my mother’s ’69 Impala talking, we looked to the east, behind the trees towards a house where an old man lived. He was a sculptor; his work was just barely visible through a torn tarp blowing in the wind. We began to see the figure of a man locked in a cage, struggling to get out to get us. We locked the doors but were overcome with fear. The wind rocked the car and we screamed, ducking to hide only to be reminded that nobody knew we were out there. It began to hail, and the sound of it along with the wind created a howl that seemed like a voice coming to get me – a shriek that made my hair stand on end. The weeping willow looked like it could eat a person, the branches swaying back and forth wild with anger. It seemed to be telling me that it hated little kids, and would use its long, whip-like branches as fingers to reach out and snatch me up. My fear only heightened as the darkness came and the sky was a mass of emotions that only grew emptier as I looked deeper into myself and found that I was completely alone.
Escaping to the Ranch
by Gonzo
Well, another day in MDC. F6 got locked down; makes me wonder why I turned myself in. I get to hear the war stories about people twice as young as me. I hear the sounds of the t.v. shows, and the doors slamming; people yelling from room to room. I have to get to that place in myself where I find the quietness and peace to keep me sane. I hear the sound of the wind blowing through the trees at the ranch, the smell of fresh-cut pine trees. The sound of the fireplace, a fire roaring, wood popping. The cry of the coyotes in the far distance, dogs barking at the moon. The peace of the mountain life. The night sky is full of twinkling little lights so close you could almost reach up and touch them. A light falling out of the sky leaving a trail of dust behind it, leaving you with a wish in mind…but I find myself here, doing time. But if only for a moment, I can escape to my ranch.
The Creek
by Gonzo
Allowing myself to listen to others helps me to examine myself and apply the different things I’ve heard, and grow in a way you can only understand if you’ve been where I’ve been.
I hear the water flow from upstream over the little beaver dams. I feel the coolness of the wind on my face as I cast my line to the other side of my favorite fishing hole, waiting for a bite. I see Mr. Beaver swimming, building his wet and watery kingdom. In turn he helps the fisherman to catch his food as his dam creates the pond that will hold the fish in place. A snake slithers across the surface of the water towards the fish in my basket, but only succeeds in finding its’ demise as I protect my catch with one gunshot. As a hawk circles it’s prey and keeps me at bay I am reminded of just how wonderful life really is. Nature is at it’s finest, and as I sit here at Coyote Creek life’s little worries can’t get me down. I let them flow downstream.
