It came in a flash, It came out of nowhere, It happened so fast, And then it was over. The years, decades have flown by. I'm here. A little older, wiser, and yet still clueless. Different me, different state, different job. But same park, same lions.

mic check....

I can still tell I'm from the city

today, well in the later afternoon I had to run by the post office, so I laced up my boots and went out trudging through the snow. Because I don't have a car yet, my only way of getting around is the two legs connected to me. that and begging for rides. but since everyone is busy, or out of town, it was just me and my two legs. i walked down Oak St. and turned right on whatever street that is until i reached the Post Office. Sent off what I needed to send off, and then walked up the street till I hit Washington St. which is the main street of the downtown block. Which consists of a whopping two blocks. The biggest building being the movie theatre. As I turned back onto Oak St. I decided to get a bite to eat at McDonalds. As I ordered I noticed a very elderly man walking in behind me, with what I thought some of his family. I got my food and sat down by myself, and began to eat. Then I noticed the old man went and sat down himself, using his walker as a guide. He must have been atleast 80 or 90 judging by the slowness of his movements. As he sat down the young girl who had helped me actually brought his food to him. But where was his family I thought? As I got up to get a refill, I noticed his family was sitting at another table altogether. His family, those people that seemed to come in with him, weren't his family at all. I had seen them help him in, and hold the door for him, but I guess they were just being polite.

He was eating all alone.

Just like me.

I would have say I'd be lying if I didn't think of going and sitting with him, maybe for the fact that we both could probably talk and chit chat. But I didn't. I sat at my safe distance and watched him hunched over, slowly eating his cheeseburger in quiet. I would also be lying if I said I didn't see a parallel between him and me. We were both alone, both eating our later lunches/dinner by ourselves. And I began to wonder what his story might have been. Was he alone in life? Did he have any family at all? Had he been married for a ungodly amount of years, and now his wife had passed away and he was left on his lonesome? Did he have children who only came around every once in a while, lost in their lives with their own families? I wondered all this while he sat, eating his cheeseburger. Then as if right on time, came the thought of me. Was I going to have the same fate? Was I going to end up in my elderly days hunched over alone eating processed cheeseburgers at a small McDonalds in a town that's hardly on the map? I wondered if he was happy, I wondered if he even knew what happiness meant? I sat and pondered all this over my french fries and quarter pounder, and when I finished them, I left. He was still there, still eating his cheeseburger as I walked out. I hope he was happy, I hope his cheeseburger brought him that.

As I walked home, I thought about my life so far. I have moved here for a better life, and up to this point, it's been pretty good. Definitely better. I got home to a quiet house, my cousins all being away on vacation in SA. I walked in and was greeted by the sound of the bell on the cat's collar, that rings when she is running. She was happy to see me, for the time being I am all she has. I am her only means of getting pet on the head and scratched on the neck, she needs me. So later as I sat and studied, I realized I was thirsty. I decided to go back out, just two blocks up to the local corner store to buy some more soda. Or Pop as they say here. As I walked in the dark cold, with a familiar comforting voice in my ear (from the phone) I thought of walking to walmart, which I decided I was going too. As I headed out on my trek, which is not that short of one, the cold got the better of me. I stood on the corner, thinking whether I should continue, and a man walked past me and smiled and said "not a good night to be walking huh?" "It could be worse" I replied. That made up my mind for me, I was not going to walk to walmart. I turned back, and went to the gas station and bought some soda and chips. As I walked home with my soda and chips, the darkness all around me, i started to laugh to myself. Here I was walking down an empty street at night, and I feared nothing. I did not fear someone trying to mugg me, I did not fear someone trying to beat me up. And that was strange. Because in the city, in some of neighborhoods I've lived, you can't walk at night, and if you do you must continually look over your back. But not here. Seems like the most dangerous I had to look out for walking home was the ice under my feet. That was the silent assassin that seemed to want to get me. As I got closer to home I noticed a car drive up Oak St. towards downtown. Then as I crossed the street and made my way up the driveway, it had turned around and came back up the opposite way. For a minute, maybe even half a second I thought, it's following me. If I was in the city, I would have hauled it inside as soon as possible. Not giving the car any chance of doing anything. But as I watched it turn on the street next to our house, I realized it really was just lost. It wasn't following me, it wasn't out to get me, it was just lost. I laughed to myself, funny how the city makes you so paranoid about things, things that these people around here take for granted. As I went in, once again the cat welcomed me with it's bell. I was warm and toasty once again. And as I think of the things I had to put up with in the city, I really am I am here now. No traffic, no constant news of killing and raping and burglary and other crime. I know it's happening, and I'm sure it does here too, but not on that big of a scale. And that's fine with me. But just the fact, just the fact that I still watch by back, I still look over my shoulder, tells me I am not from here. I am a city boy for life, that I cannot get out of me. The cliche applies to me then too, you can take me out of the city, but you can't take the city out of me.

Open Invitation

Ok, so King Kong has come out, and I've been wanting to see it. So I'm going tomorrow. If anyone wants to go with, be at the Metropolitan Theatre in Iowa Falls, IA around 7:05 pm (movie starts at 7:15pm) tomorrow (December 21st 2005). It's free popcorn day too.

If no one shows up, that's cool.
I am not above going by myself folks!

red headed stranger

i originally posted this October 14th, but just briefly. then I took it off for some reason. so now I am reposting it. i figure its a thought that should not be denied others.

you know, i had a conversation with my cousin the april the other day, and I have been thinking a lot about that topic since then. we were driving down the highway here in Iowa, which is basically farmland, and I was playing some Willie Nelson in the car. We got to talking about many things, but because I heard Willie, I could not help but think of my dad. Or "Papi" as I knew him. Everytime I hear Willie Nelson, I can't help but think of my dad. I don't know if it's the fact that my dad resembled him a bit, or the fact (like april pointed out) that my dad was a avid Willie Nelson listener. Or it could be the fact that my dad, much like Willie Nelson in his wilder days, was a drinker and a smoker, and a bad father to some of his children. But still, I don't really know what the connection between the two is. While listening to the song "Always On My Mind" April said that song reminded her of Ronnie (what everyone called my dad, short for Ronald). The lyrics speak loudly about a person, who because of some reason treated another person in a way he didn't intend too. So he is confessing the things he "didn't" do, only to come back and say that even though he didn't do much positive things, that person was "always on my mind" or in other words in his thoughts. And I had to agree, part of that did remind me of my dad also. See I knew my dad like this. He was a alcoholic, and a smoker and a talented and gifted artist, sculptor and carpenter. He had his bad, and he had his good. Like most people. But what proved to be too hard for my dad to control was his addiction. He could not control his drinking problem. Too many times, and too many memories do I have of my dad being drunk at home, and either throwing something or making the cops come out to our house. These are some of the only memories I have of him, this is the only man I ever knew. When my dad wasn't drinking though, he was a very great guy. He cared about others, from what I heard he had a good sense of humor, and he could skip rocks very well. I guess I get that from him. But once again, that was not the man I came to know. So as I grew up and learned from his example of "what not to do with your life" I have recieved many influences that have combated his legacy that he passed on. And going back to the song, April said that she thinks thats how he felt. He knew he was a bad father, he knew he didn't treat us and our mom well, he knew all of that, and I know he hated himself for it. They say there's no one more honest then a drunk, so when he would call, drunk and go into his speech about how bad of a father he was and how he was never there for us, and how he was sorry about this and sorry about that, I understood. He felt utter remorse, he felt that pain, down to the day that he died I'm sure. He knew what he "didn't" do and was very sorry about it. And I guess there's nothing else I can do then to forgive him. I do forgive him. He lived with that pain and anguish for so many years, he didn't deserve any maltreatment from me or my brother and sister. And that's not easy, part of me wants to be bitter because of what I never got, a normal childhood, a loving father that imparts wisdom to be used later on in life. I could be very angry with him for not giving me many, if any positive things to carry on in life. But I just have to remember that his addiction was just too strong for him. It was so strong it took everything from him, his wife, his family, and ultimately his life. It's funny sometimes, if I think and concentrate very hard, sometimes I can still hear his voice, the memory is still there in my head. Apologizing for everything he never did, and all the things he should have been. I don't know if it's a "Bell" thing, but it seems that when ones in my family get painted in a corner, when there seems like no hope is there, they give up and self destruct. They accept defeat and pout. They don't learn from it, they don't take that knowledge and try again, the just sit and fade away. And that's where I think I differ. I don't want to say I'm a huge go- getter, but I will work for something if I want it. I have hope, I have goals, I have things I want to do. If I fail, then I fail, but I won't give up. I have been there, down in the dumps where my dad was, and I (with help from a close friend) pulled myself out of that. I chose to better myself, or atleast to try. Try try try. Even if you don't win, try. My dad never did that, he never tried to reconcile anything from the past, he would just pout and apologize about it. He would just live in his self created pity factory, and feel sorry for himself. And yes I have been there too. I have been to the lowest point of my life, and I have bounced back. Why? I don't honestly know. I guess that's where me and my dad differ. Where he would feel pity, I atleast try to fix it. I think that has to do with being raised by my brother in law, who is a no excuses type of guy. Hardworking and no nonsense. I like to think that maybe just a tiny amount of his work ethic rubbed off, and that helps me combat the "self pity" gene that us Bells seem to have. Plus I think of my mother. Maybe I make her into a woman of "mythic" proportions, but that's what she is to me. She was and is a hero, a example of toughness beyond any other. I try to be that way in certain things, and not feel sorry for myself. What makes me so special right? But one thing I have to remember is that she loved my dad. They loved each other. From what I hear from my aunt is that my dad loved my mother more then anything, and when he lost her it crushed him. Part of me wants to say he loved his addiction just as much though, but then when she died, in his mind he was left with nothing else to hang on for. I guess us kids weren't enough, the addiction was much too strong. He drank to forget, and while the more he drank, the more neglect he made. He had continued to paint himself in a corner, and then he self destructed. Just like that. But like I said, that's something I have come to know and understand. So now as I get older, and maybe within a couple years think about finding my own wife, I have his example. I hope, and I'll try my hardest not to be the husband and father I knew him as, the stranger I hardly knew. Hopefully I can be a little bit more like the earlier Ronnie, the one who at sometime loved to live and lived to love.

picture by apryldawwn. spikey hair by CRG. veggies by God.