Bart, also known as "$$Big Money$$," is a thirty-one-year-old man...
...who is doing a fifteen-year-to-life prison sentence for the crime of murder in the second degree. He hails from Brooklyn, officially "Kings County," one of New York City's five boroughs. It was his partner, Bart insists, that whacked a drug dealer "several times in the head" with a baseball bat, while Bart was "just there." But Bart did admit to me that he and his partner were definitely trying to rob their victim. Big Money has now been in prison for about seven years.
Bart is an easy guy to talk to because he loves to rap with anyone about anything. Mostly, he likes to hang out with his "crew" or play basketball, but every now and then I get a chance to spend a little time with him.
This morning, I was talking to Bart during the recreation period, as we sat together on top of one of the picnic tables. I was glad for the opportunity to get to know him better, and I quickly learned that Bart had never finished high school. He dropped out in the tenth grade, leaving school with what was probably a fifth or sixth grade reading level, and opted for the streets instead of an eight-hour-a-day job.
Big Money also told me that he never went to a football or baseball game, the zoo, or a wedding. He can't even remember leaving the boundaries of New York City to go on a vacation of any kind, and he's never seen mountains up close. He has never visited the Museum of Natural History or the Statue of Liberty. He's lived in New York his entire life, and yet he has never gone to the top of the Empire State Building. He has never gone to the circus, and he has never played Little League baseball.
In actuality, Bart never had a normal American childhood. For the most part Big Money spent his entire pre-prison life in and around a small one-square mile of territory in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn. He told me he seldom ventured out of that area except to take the subway to Coney Island during the summer months, when he went along with a few friends "in search of people to rob."
Bart never owned a pet. Before coming to prison, he had never watched a "National Geographic" program on TV. He can't remember ever spending time enjoying the simple pleasures of life, such as watching a squirrel scamper up a tree or a bird flying overhead, even though he spent much of his life hanging out in city parks and playgrounds. Bart seems to have no concept of nature or of any kind of life outside his small world of hustling, surviving, and living in the projects.
Furthermore, Bart never held a legitimate job. He has never cashed a check (at least not legally), or owned a car, or rented his own apartment. Bart has never had a steady girlfriend that he felt he was truly in love with, though he told me he had "shacked up" with a number of women. He has never raised a child, but he admits the possibility that he may have one or more children somewhere.
As our discussion turned to his home life, Bart candidly told me that he has no memory of ever meeting with or speaking to his dad. His mother told him that his father had been around for a little while after Bart was born, but he got into trouble in Michigan and ended up doing "big time" in that state for armed robbery.
At some point, Bart remembers, a distant cousin from his neighborhood once told him that his dad did eventually get out of prison, but as far as Bart knows, he never made it back to New York City. A few years after his dad's release, Bart was told that he had died in some big city. He thinks it may have been Detroit or maybe Chicago.
Bart was never a homeless person, yet he was almost never home. His mother always had her door open for him, but he was used to running wild and could not stand living with a handful of brothers and sisters in such a cramped place. His mom, being a single parent with a brood of kids and nothing but welfare checks to support them, could never control Bart, who considered her apartment nothing more than a "crash pad" and a place to get a hot meal when his stomach was empty. It was a little place of refuge and respite from the fast-moving life of the streets.
Bart survived, he said, by selling small quantities of drugs (mostly marijuana) to other people in his neighborhood. He was no big-time operator, though he said he sometimes robbed other drug dealers. He would steal whatever he could and occasionally break into parked cars.
In reality, Bart has never lived. And isn't it ironic that the man who nicknamed himself "Big Money" never had much of it. He never made much money stealing things or sticking people up. His takes were always small, although he told me he thought he was a "pretty good criminal." But his dreams of being wealthy, successful, and having “lots of ladies” never materialized, though he somehow has not come to realize this truth himself.
As if listened to Bart, my desire to steer out conversation toward spiritual issues continued to grow. Finally, I asked Bart what he felt his purpose was in life, and if he had a vision of something bigger than just trying to survive in the streets and in prison. Bart assured me that when he gets out of prison, he hopes to find a good job. Since he has never held a legitimate job in his life, the chances of that happening aren’t good, but I didn’t tell him that. He also hopes to leave prison with a High School Equivalency diploma, even though he has been in the same pre-GED class for the past three years without making any progress or advancing to the next level.
In spite of this, Bart hopes he will someday get married and have kids. He wants a nice home and a few cars. Yet he has no money and lives off the few dollars in prison wages that he makes each week for going to class in the mornings, plus sweeping and mopping the hallways in the afternoons. In total, Bart makes about eighty-five cents per day or $4.25 per week. There is no overtime, and no paid vacations for the man known as “Big Money.”
I then asked Bart if he would like to attend the chapel service with me. He said he had gone a few times out of curiosity, but he was not interested at this time. I offered him a Gideon’s New Testament, as we get boxes of these as donations, but he declined, explaining that he reads only newspapers and magazines.
Despite Bart’s rejection of spiritual help, I thank God for the opportunity we had to talk because I learned that, in spite of his criminal history, Big Money is not a bad person. Surviving the streets in all he has ever known.
As for his dreams of one day having a better life, they’re just that: dreams. Will they ever come true? Sadly, there’s little change of that.
D.B.
Bart is an easy guy to talk to because he loves to rap with anyone about anything. Mostly, he likes to hang out with his "crew" or play basketball, but every now and then I get a chance to spend a little time with him.
This morning, I was talking to Bart during the recreation period, as we sat together on top of one of the picnic tables. I was glad for the opportunity to get to know him better, and I quickly learned that Bart had never finished high school. He dropped out in the tenth grade, leaving school with what was probably a fifth or sixth grade reading level, and opted for the streets instead of an eight-hour-a-day job.
Big Money also told me that he never went to a football or baseball game, the zoo, or a wedding. He can't even remember leaving the boundaries of New York City to go on a vacation of any kind, and he's never seen mountains up close. He has never visited the Museum of Natural History or the Statue of Liberty. He's lived in New York his entire life, and yet he has never gone to the top of the Empire State Building. He has never gone to the circus, and he has never played Little League baseball.
In actuality, Bart never had a normal American childhood. For the most part Big Money spent his entire pre-prison life in and around a small one-square mile of territory in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn. He told me he seldom ventured out of that area except to take the subway to Coney Island during the summer months, when he went along with a few friends "in search of people to rob."
Bart never owned a pet. Before coming to prison, he had never watched a "National Geographic" program on TV. He can't remember ever spending time enjoying the simple pleasures of life, such as watching a squirrel scamper up a tree or a bird flying overhead, even though he spent much of his life hanging out in city parks and playgrounds. Bart seems to have no concept of nature or of any kind of life outside his small world of hustling, surviving, and living in the projects.
Furthermore, Bart never held a legitimate job. He has never cashed a check (at least not legally), or owned a car, or rented his own apartment. Bart has never had a steady girlfriend that he felt he was truly in love with, though he told me he had "shacked up" with a number of women. He has never raised a child, but he admits the possibility that he may have one or more children somewhere.
As our discussion turned to his home life, Bart candidly told me that he has no memory of ever meeting with or speaking to his dad. His mother told him that his father had been around for a little while after Bart was born, but he got into trouble in Michigan and ended up doing "big time" in that state for armed robbery.
At some point, Bart remembers, a distant cousin from his neighborhood once told him that his dad did eventually get out of prison, but as far as Bart knows, he never made it back to New York City. A few years after his dad's release, Bart was told that he had died in some big city. He thinks it may have been Detroit or maybe Chicago.
Bart was never a homeless person, yet he was almost never home. His mother always had her door open for him, but he was used to running wild and could not stand living with a handful of brothers and sisters in such a cramped place. His mom, being a single parent with a brood of kids and nothing but welfare checks to support them, could never control Bart, who considered her apartment nothing more than a "crash pad" and a place to get a hot meal when his stomach was empty. It was a little place of refuge and respite from the fast-moving life of the streets.
Bart survived, he said, by selling small quantities of drugs (mostly marijuana) to other people in his neighborhood. He was no big-time operator, though he said he sometimes robbed other drug dealers. He would steal whatever he could and occasionally break into parked cars.
In reality, Bart has never lived. And isn't it ironic that the man who nicknamed himself "Big Money" never had much of it. He never made much money stealing things or sticking people up. His takes were always small, although he told me he thought he was a "pretty good criminal." But his dreams of being wealthy, successful, and having “lots of ladies” never materialized, though he somehow has not come to realize this truth himself.
As if listened to Bart, my desire to steer out conversation toward spiritual issues continued to grow. Finally, I asked Bart what he felt his purpose was in life, and if he had a vision of something bigger than just trying to survive in the streets and in prison. Bart assured me that when he gets out of prison, he hopes to find a good job. Since he has never held a legitimate job in his life, the chances of that happening aren’t good, but I didn’t tell him that. He also hopes to leave prison with a High School Equivalency diploma, even though he has been in the same pre-GED class for the past three years without making any progress or advancing to the next level.
In spite of this, Bart hopes he will someday get married and have kids. He wants a nice home and a few cars. Yet he has no money and lives off the few dollars in prison wages that he makes each week for going to class in the mornings, plus sweeping and mopping the hallways in the afternoons. In total, Bart makes about eighty-five cents per day or $4.25 per week. There is no overtime, and no paid vacations for the man known as “Big Money.”
I then asked Bart if he would like to attend the chapel service with me. He said he had gone a few times out of curiosity, but he was not interested at this time. I offered him a Gideon’s New Testament, as we get boxes of these as donations, but he declined, explaining that he reads only newspapers and magazines.
Despite Bart’s rejection of spiritual help, I thank God for the opportunity we had to talk because I learned that, in spite of his criminal history, Big Money is not a bad person. Surviving the streets in all he has ever known.
As for his dreams of one day having a better life, they’re just that: dreams. Will they ever come true? Sadly, there’s little change of that.
D.B.