“It's not like they can take anything from me,' he says later, back with his homeboys in Juvenile Hall. 'Ain't got nothing to give. Nothin' but time, that is. And I been doin' time my whole life, one way or the other.”
In this quote from Edward Humes, the speaker reflects on his experience in juvenile hall and dismisses the idea of losing anything of value. By stating that he has nothing to give except time, the speaker highlights the sense of confinement and entrapment he has felt throughout his life. This quote emphasizes the theme of time as a form of imprisonment for the speaker, suggesting a deep-rooted sense of hopelessness and resignation. The speaker's matter-of-fact tone lends a sense of resignation to his situation, offering insight into the pervasive sense of despair that can accompany a life of hardship and struggle.
The quote highlights the idea of being caught in a cycle of disadvantage and incarceration, where individuals feel like they have nothing to lose because they have been dealing with challenges their whole lives. This notion is still relevant today, as many individuals, especially from marginalized communities, face systemic barriers that make it difficult for them to break free from this cycle. Addressing these underlying issues and providing support to break the cycle is crucial in helping individuals move towards a better future.
"It's not like they can take anything from me," he says later, back with his homeboys in Juvenile Hall. "Ain't got nothing to give. Nothin' but time, that is. And I been doin' time my whole life, one way or the other." - Edward Humes
As we ponder on the words spoken by the character in Edward Humes' book, it raises several thought-provoking questions about the concept of time and its impact on our lives. Here are some reflection questions to consider:
“Take a trip in my mindsee all that I've seen,and you'd be called abeast, not a human being...Fuck it, cause there'snot much I can do,there's no way out, myscreams have no voice nomatter how loud I shout...I could be called alow life, but life ain'tas low as me. I'm in juvenile hall headedfor the penitentiary. George Trevino, sixteen, "Who Am I?”
“He wants to tell her that he is not hopeless, that he is not filled with hatred or violence, that he is not a number, a 300 or 600 or any hundred, but just a kid with no one and nothing, and who would do anything to make it otherwise. Just tell me how, he wants to scream. He wants to tell her what it's like to have the same dream night after night, that he's playing tag with his little sister, laughing, happy - then waking up and not knowing if the image in his head is a dim memory, or just something his mind cooked up to fill the black hole. Do you know what it's like to have no past? he wants to ask. And behind it all, like a ringing in his ears, is the question that really nags at him all the time, the one that has haunted him since he was six years old and his family evaporated. He wants to ask it, then and there and for good: What did I do wrong back then? What did I do to deserve this life?”
“Locking everyone up is not the solution,' she sighs, staring into a cup of coffee gone cold as The Box at Juvenile Hall. 'It's just the symptom of the problem. It's the proof that we're doing something wrong.”
“the fundamental question Juvenile Court was designed to ask - What's the best way to deal with this individual kid? - is often lost in the process, replaced by a point system that opens the door, or locks it, depending on the qualities of the crime, not the child.”
“These kids are already hard. They don't need to be made harder. The issue is softening them up. They need to learn how to care about life again. They've lost that. That's what we need to give back to them.”
“There are, in short, a multitude of ways for trash to escape and plastic to go missing. But there is only one ultimate end point for this wild trash: the greatest future, the biggest surface, the deepest chasm, the broadest desert and the largest burial ground on the planet. It's the ocean.”