Editor’s Note: Richard Lindsey was a former design editor of The San Quentin News.
I was born into this world on Sept. 21, 1958. Twenty-nine years later, to the day, I was sentenced to spend the rest of my life in prison. Fortunately, my “life” sentence also carried with it a possibility of parole.
During my time in prison, I appeared before the parole board five times and in 2012 was finally found suitable for parole. During the next five months I prepared for the day when I would eventually be released back into society.
That day came on a cold, mist-shrouded morning in April when I stepped off the prison van that drove me out of the institution and took my first footsteps outside of a prison in 26 years. In that moment, I felt as if I had stepped out of a dream and back into reality. A close friend picked me up at the prison gates and drove me off into the haze to start my new life as a recently paroled ex-offender.
My first week out was very surreal for me. I paroled into the city of Berkeley where, on the first Friday of each month, which was the same day I happened to parole, a street gathering is held. There were hundreds of people milling about every corner, many smoking pot or drinking alcohol, and the whole scene seemed to me one of general chaos. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of reception and felt way out of my comfort zone.
Everything in the first week was new. I had never seen a cell phone, let alone operated one before. And, there was no internet when I went to prison. I was struck by how many people walk around talking to themselves, only to discover they are actually talking to someone else through their phone. The majority of people out here seem very dissociated to me. Sure, they’re talking to someone on their phone, but they ignore everyone and everything right in front of them.
I’m still amazed at how people will shuffle along, fixated on their smart phone, while awkwardly navigating through traffic or crowds. I don’t get it.
My second week was more chaotic. A frenzied battery of daily appointments and meetings to acquire all the necessary documentation required of a citizen became my daily routine. Getting my birth certificate, California identification, Social Security card, and opening a bank account were my prime objectives during that phase of my transition.
I also became very familiar with all the different modes of public transportation available in the Bay Area. By my third week out, everything began to feel almost normal and I stopped noticing how different the world seemed and started to feel more at home.
It has now been three months since I left San Quentin and my days are filled by a mix of routine and adventure. The programs I attended while inside prison are still a part of my life today. Weekday mornings until noon I am in self-help programs as a condition of my parole. Afterwards, I am usually headed into the City where I do some volunteer work or can be found riding my bicycle around town seeing the sights.
I certainly don’t feel like an “ex-con” or “parolee.” Most days I simply feel like another everyday Joe trying to find my place in the greater scheme of things just like everyone else.