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Other essays on this theme
Essay: "Expectations"Expectations of My Lifeby Joseph Alvin Parrish I was born February 13, 1963 in Corsicana, TX. My mother's name was Katie Lee Wafer. You would probably agree that even as an infant one has expectations. Please come and follow me in my narrative as I attempt to recall to my memory some of the expectations I had starting with infancy. Somehow it's amazing that I cannot remember sucking milk out of a baby's bottle, but I'm certain that I did. I realize that even then I had expectations that my mother would provide me with what I needed to survive. I don't remember much of my infancy, but I do know that I experienced expectations. I know from experience that when an infant's needs are not met he will let you know by screaming and crying out. You know those times that I am referring to? Having a need: for my diaper to be changed, hungry for physical nourishment, or maybe experiencing the need to receive attention. Being naïve as an infant, I experienced expectations. I can remember that at about age of four years old mother would be in the kitchen frying chicken and I would be standing there expectantly hoping that she would give me some of what she was cooking. I had no knowledge whatsoever that she was in the process of preparing a meal for her children. All that can be said is that I had expectations of being fed. I would let my intentions be known by crying out. This was way back in 1967. It is now November 16, 2005 and I am striving to recall those early years of my life. Please allow me to relate one incident that happened one night that had me shaking in my boots. The room and bed that I slept in I shared with two of my brothers, who were at that particular time several years older than me. At the time this incident occurred I was asleep. At about midnight I was awakened with the news that there was a snake under the bed. Boy, was I scared. Even then I had an expectation that my brothers would get me out of this dilemma alive. I guess you would be correct to title this story my autobiography, but in essence what I am relaying to you is about expectations. Expectations in my life would be a more accurate title. At the age of six years old I was taken from my mother by CPS (Child Protective services) and placed in a home for delinquent neglected children. Someone reported to CPS that our mother was leaving us alone at night to fend for ourselves. And so we're taken away from her and placed in a delinquent home in Waco, TX. I cannot recall all the many harmful ways that affected me being separated from my mother because I was only four years old. But affected me I know it did. More than 35 years later I am curious to know in what ways that affected me being separated from my mother. As far as a father figure was concerned I never had one. There goes another key element that may have caused me to have expectations. Nevertheless my expectations went unfulfilled. I am now forty-two years of age and I still don't know who my father is. If he were standing right here before me I would not know it. I have an expectation. I would like to know who my father is, and to hear him say that he loves me and that he has regrets for not being there for me when I needed hem. I seriously think all of this played a part I the direction my life would go in coming to prison. And so I am now six years of age, a black kid in 1969, having to adjust to a new environment, having to learn how to live around other children of different ethnic backgrounds. Even then I experienced different expectations. And so now at the age of six years old, I now had a new home separated from my mothers. Psychologically, I was not able to deal with the emotions that I experienced at that particular time. I believe that it affected me. And as time wore on and I began to age in that new environment I was unknowingly metamorphosing by overcoming this setback against all odds. Don't get me wrong, I still had those same expectations but I was reflexively adapting to the other children around me in this new environment. Deep within me was this unspoken need to be acknowledged as someone who had something going for himself. I can remember participating in one particular talent show at eight years of age. I can even now recall that I had an expectation then, and that was that I craved that attention that those people were giving to me. I remember being rewarded by the applause they gave me. It made me feel good about myself and provided me with an outlet to receive the attention that I craved. Here I am 35 years later incarcerated in prison and I find that I still have most of those same expectations, plus many more.
-Joseph Alvin Parrish |