(11/13) “I’m not going to lie, man. I haven’t been an angel. I...

(11/13) “I’m not going to lie, man. I haven’t been an angel. I slipped. During the pandemic: alone in my room all day, no job, collecting food stamps, another year of my life down the drain. I slipped. But each time I’d think of Obama: how they ridiculed this man, and crucified him, for giving opportunities to people like me. What kind of payback would that be to him? I thought of every brother and sister in prison, waiting for their own Obama moment. What would that do to their chances? I knew it couldn’t just be about me. I’ve been there; I know where that leads. When it’s about me, I lose. After six months the halfway house wanted to discharge me into the NYC shelter system; I didn’t know what to do. It would have broken me. It was another inmate that suggested I meet with Iris. She was a case manager at Mt. Sinai hospital, working out of a 6x6 office. Nothing on the walls. I went there wanting to hate her, but I couldn’t. She was like Oprah: her voice was calm and comforting. We started going over my health questionnaire, and my entire history was in there. She wanted to know everything. No judgement. She just seemed interested; that’s all. Afterward she told me her own story. She’d gone to prison for her boyfriend’s drugs. Sixteen years; almost the exact same time as me. Now she was raising five kids. Youngest daughter died of cancer. Yet here she was: working 80 hours a week, in a 6x6 box, helping other people. She was one of the givers. Iris got me an apartment. She arranged my hip surgeries. She got me into a job training program. In the program they teach you to be up front about your history: tell them before they ask. I had a whole speech memorized. I scheduled six different in-person interviews, and six different times I couldn’t go inside. But the seventh time I made myself do it. I walked in those doors. The manager that day was Raven Peters, that big ole peckerwood. I said: ‘My name is John Gargano. Before we begin, I want you to know there’s a 15-year gap on my resume, and this is why.’ He wouldn’t let me finish. He said: “John, I don’t care about any of that. We care about two things here: how you treat our guests, and how you make them feel.”