Originally published by www.uncaptivevoices.wordpress.com.

My best friend, my protector, my teacher, and my inspiration in anything I ever accomplished or failed at was my father.  His name was Bob.  If I had known I would only have him in my life for twenty-seven years, I would have  crammed more time into each and every day.  But none of us know exactly when we’re going to leave or how much time is allotted us.

I’m not a deeply religious person.  That being said, it’s not as if I’m not a spiritual man.  After all, someone has to be in charge of all this chaos.  My dad used to say things. Sometimes they were deeply profound, sometimes they were funny, and they always had some meaning. I wish I had been paying more attention to him; more than likely I wouldn’t be writing this from a prison if I had.  However, I feel everyone should know about ‘The Book Of Bob’.  You won’t find it in the library or at a bookstore or on a newsstand.  It’s not available in fine print or large.  It’s embedded in my life and written on my heart.

My dad, born Robert Norris Green, was brought into this world on December 1, 1932.  He left too soon, on June 13, 1988.  He was only 56 years old, but he looked like he was in his early 40’s.  He passed a yearly physical and stress test a month before a blood clot formed in his leg.  It broke loose and traveled to his heart.  He died instantly. There were no anti-clotting agents back then.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here now, and he would be sitting somewhere, drinking coffee, and telling me a joke or adding to ‘the book’.

He used to tell me things like, “Some people see the glass as half-full and some half-empty.”  My dad thought the glass was too big.

Or, “The world is a small place, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.”

My favorite, “Life is like a crap sandwich, the more bread you have, the less crap you have to eat.”

I developed my sense of humor based on my dad’s little sayings, but he never taught me how to cope with difficult people.  Or maybe he did, in his own way.  The man would give the shirt off his back if he thought someone needed it.  He used to help complete strangers, the homeless, stray dogs and cats.  There wasn’t a moment in my life that I felt I couldn’t tell my dad what I’d done or hadn’t done – never a second I felt I couldn’t depend on him.  It is through my dad that I was taught to love and express my feelings.

If everyone had such a figure in their lives, the world would be a better place.  That is why I get frustrated in this place.  It separates and divides families for years at a time and does nothing to try and mend or heal broken fences or relationships.  Since I’ve been incarcerated, I have never been closer than 300 miles from my adopted home in East Texas (I was born in Columbus, Ohio).

I see inmates struggle because they have lost what is essential to being human:  relationships, hope, faith and yes – love.  Many, more than likely, never had a father or ‘Dad’, and it saddens me to know that the next generation will likely repeat the process of being locked away from family and friends.

Bob used to tell me that there is a part of each of us that is good.  Sometimes you have to look harder in some to find it, but it’s there. I’ve seen hardened men break down and cry when they finally realize what is important and what they’ve lost.  We need to look for that, grow it, and accept it as the normal – not the impossible.  We need more of the type I was graced to have as my dad – my best friend.  We need each other, and we need more Bob.

It’s funny how that happens.  You live life forward, but you learn from it backward…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR  Beginning to feel a little less ‘Shipwrecked, Abandoned, and Misunderstood’.   In spite of 25 years behind bars, John Green continues to wake up every day holding on to his humanity and on a mission to change the world for the better.

John Green #671771
C.T. Terrell Unit A150
1300 FM655
Rosharon, TX 77583