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.