The Ball Bounces
The Cookie Crumbles
Hamilton Jones
The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of, or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017 this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds,,expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives.
Since January 2017 ConTextos has partnered with Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narratives of violence and peace building, and help author a hopeful future for human beings behind walls, their families and our collective communities.
While each author’s text is solely the work of the Author, the image used to create this book’s illustrations have been sourced by various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into illustrated books.
This project is being supported, in whole or in part, by federal award number ALN 21.027 awarded to Cook County by the U.S. Department of the Treasury.
The Ball Bounces, the Cookie Crumbles
Hamilton Jones
Foreword:
The ball bounces, the cookie crumbles! It happened so fast. I looked up and we was down. The first date was explosive. I swear that I saw fireworks that night. Well, after all, it was the Fourth of July. We connected like 55 connects to 57, like a cell phone to a charger. When I say it felt good, it felt good. It was perfect. If I rocked, she rolled. I would wash, and she would fold. Man, let me tell ya. Our embrace was air tight and our distance was like kid’s cup phones. You know the ones with the string in the middle. But one day it changed.
I got home from Robinson Correctional Center on April 25, 2017. My mother and girlfriend made the round trip down state and back to give me two warm and welcoming faces to return home to and with. A couple months prior to being released, I started participation in a fitness class that helped me to get slim and trim. I lost weight quickly and healthily.
I went from 305 pounds to 246 pounds in just under two months. I felt great, and, from what I was told, I looked even better. On the way back to Interstate 57, we stopped at some gas station in a small town. I looked behind me and it dawned on me that I was actually free. I still had four years parole to do, but hell, I was not wearing state blues or New Balance shoes. It was one of the best moments of my life. I completed something.
I finished my prison sentence without hurting anyone or being hurt. I had earned college credit and a few certificates. And last but not least, I was finally able to hug my mother for no reason.
As I remember, our first stop was at the Robinson Secretary of State facility. We stopped there so I could renew my license. I wanted to drive us home and I didn’t want to get stopped and not have the proper credentials. Surprisingly, the ladies at the Secretary of State were very polite. Not quite what I expected by being fresh out of prison, Black, and in a small town midwest USA. I took the exam, then a picture, and got on the road. Again it was magic.
My mother, my girlfriend, Kim (who has been there for me more times than I could count) and myself; all headed home after a three year journey. We talked, we laughed, we listened to the factory car stereo. Pictures were taken and observations were made.
We drove from Robinson, Illinois to Country Club Hills, and I didn’t see one cop car the whole ride. Not a trooper, sheriff or local. Of course the parole office wants you to go straight to your parole site, make that call, and stay there. My parole site was on the west side of Chicago where I was born and raised. My home was, is, and always will be where my mother lives. At the time it was Country Club Hills. While in custody, I was divorced from my wife, but my mother was still Granny to her son Kaleb.
When I walked through the door, my boy had changed. I hugged him and let him know that I was home and my love for him didn’t change. Kaleb did change, though. When I left in 2014 he was a runt. When I got home in 2017, he had grown into a 6’4” young man who was learning about the streets.
My family gifted me a new iPhone. I had been passing the number out too while I was in custody. I still have that same number today. Kaleb was a genius who set it up for me.
Eventually he and I had a major falling out, but if you ask him who raised him he’ll tell you “Milton.” I gathered the rest of the things I need and once again hugged my mother and Kim and I got on the road to the west side.
Kim and I stopped a couple places because once I got to my parole site, we/I couldn’t go back out. We bought a land line phone so I could call the P.O. and let them know I was in.
They didn’t end up coming out until the next day, so I chilled, made some phone calls, and got a couple visitors. Then Kim and I did us.
The next day the parole officer came and after his inspection of the house, he asked me if I had somewhere else to parole to. I responded “Not yet, but I’ll work on it.” I guess he read me or the environment, but I knew then that I wasn’t going to be there much longer.
I didn’t look for a job because I already had my own business. I am a mechanic, and I worked out of my mother’s garage. I informed my P.O. of this, and he gave me movement from 7AM to 10PM Monday through Saturday. So now I wasn’t bound to the west side, and I could see my mother and had a way to take care of myself. Once people found out I was home, I was never short on work. My street was lined with all types of cars, from A to Z. You name it, I fixed it.
My mother was a foster parent, a state surrogate, and basically mother or grandmother to the neighborhood depending on how old you were. Needless to say, my mother’s house was a hangout for me and my boys and for Kaleb and his friends.
My mother took in a runaway (of course by going through proper channels) and she had a friend named Kia who later became my daughter. One day while taking a break from being in the garage, my life changed.
I met her for the first time. I had asked Kia about her mother once before figuring the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. When Tracy pulled up, Kia came over to my Tahoe. I turned the stereo down and Kia said “There go my momma. ”
I got out of the truck and saw the most beautiful ray of sunshine I had seen in a long time. She had fair skin, dyed blonde hair, was wearing a yellow crop top, and red pants. I introduced myself and she gave me a hug like the Matrix.
I was immediately struck by her outgoing, yet intriguing personality. Needless to say, I had to see her again, and I believe she felt the same way. I asked “Who is dude in the passenger seat?” and never heard or saw from him again.
Our first date was officially July 4, 2017. I had a ten o ’clock curfew, but somehow we made it work. I explained to her that Kim and I wasn’t working out and she offered that I come live with her. I told my P.O. and he seemed to be happier than me.
In fact, he was ready for me to go right then. I told him that I needed a few days to get some things in order, and then I’d be able to move. Now mind you, I tried to talk to Kim about our issues, but she only understands how she felt and what she wanted. I got on about my way while she was at work. Needless to say, when she got off work and found all my stuff gone, she was pissed. However, as I drove down Cicero, closer to my new life, I felt fantastic. No more pressure, no more arguing, and just a better situation that still needed work. Come to find out, Tracy had loads to carry, and three “grownish kids” and basically a family full of people pushing and pulling her.
There was an eleven year age gap between Tracy and myself, with her being the oldest. I came into our relationship with no children and a happiness that I never experienced until that point. Kia didn’t call me Milton, she called me “Dad.” The first time I heard that I almost choked on my Dunkin iced coffee. I asked her what she said, and she repeated it. Finally, not only did I have a gorgeous lady, I had a daughter and a couple sons. The two boys never referred to me as dad, but they would tell other people that I was pops. One day while I was rebuilding the front end on the oldest boy’s girlfriend’s car, he said “My real dad never did anything like this with me. ” Those words made me feel welcome and loved. He and I did eventually fall out, but sharing a similar situation involving the law and both loving his mother helped us to bury the hatchet and handle. Lastly was the youngest boy. I was his biggest fan, and he was my biggest champion.
I supported this guy in everything and he, in turn, supported me too. He listened to me when I was full and needed to get stuff off my shoulders. I can’t say I did the same thing, because he was one of those people who always had it together. At least that’s what I thought. Come to find out, he was carrying a lot too. He just dealt with it. He still managed to keep moving, and now he’s doing him and taking care of his family. I knew that I passed his test when he literally gave me food off his plate. He was, and probably is, fickle about those things.
Nitorious and I made plans to build ourselves a race engine, but we never talked about what we would put it in.
No matter what happened, as a group we were ready for any terrain.
We as a family, went through all the things a blended family can go through, and we rarely let the outside get between us. One day, on a ride from a high school football game in Kankakee, there was a small disagreement about the temperature of the car and my daughter disrespected me. Her mother had a strange look on her face as I waited for her to say something. She and I would both come back to and reference this moment regularly. I asked the lady of my life to do something.
All she did was send our daughter some sort of text message.
Then one day later that week, our daughter was upset because I wouldn’t talk to her and she once again disrespected me. I then told Tracy that she needed to do something because she wasn’t going to like me once I started defending myself. Guess what, when I defended myself/ Everybody began to look at me differently, especially my lady’s mother. She developed deep disdain for me. I speculate that it really came from me giving my lady a surprise birthday setup at our house with my mother and sister’s help. I believe that was my first mistake with her mother, because I didn’t include her in the process. Man, do I regret that. When your lady’s mother doesn't like you, it gets bad.
In 2019, the oldest boy went to jail with a serious charge, and I came right behind him two years later. I can only imagine the stress those situations put on our lady. On top of that, she lost her dad and auntie. I did my best to console her, but there is only so much that I can do while being locked up myself. Eventually circumstances led her to see someone else. Now here I am trying to get home so I can continue rebuilding my life. And that’s how the ball bounces and the cookie crumbles.
I Am From
I am from Cicero & Bloomingdale
Hamilton Jones
From vacant lots, garages and hooked up cars
I am from 4826,
Where Mama Jones hand washed white shirts for school
I am from the lagoons of Chicago Park Districts
Where you might find a turtle, frog, goldfish, or a body
I’m from Angeline and Hamp
From baking cakes in the kitchen
And from “Be honest, why lie?”
I’m from “You never have to lie to me ”
And from “If you tell me the truth, I’ll help you. ”
I’m from Baptist, Christianity
I’m from the westside of Chicago
From whole chicken, porter house, greens, mac and cheese
From Uncle Thomas, he taught me
I am from love & joy and lots of everything else
Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb
