One More Story For Klash

[trip]

Tweetlol, they say things come in 3's and i haven't said diddley about myself in ages

Once upon a time a six year old boy finally started listening to the priest on sunday morning, and he like the message he preached of love and hope, so the young boy was happy and hopeful.

As time went on the boy became more and more confused, the nuns and priests who on sunday preached of hope and love during the week would yell and scream at the children and every few weeks they would beat the children, yes beat children, and he guessed it was okay because it was what was.

The young boys father was an independent wildcatter, and while he knew his father loved him or guessed he did he feared him, why, because no one knew which father would walk thru the door in the evening. The funny one who was happy and told jokes, or the sour crude one who woul yell and scream and ***** and moan about the mass tupidity in the world, the one who would bemoan the fear of not having money, or the worst of all the gusher. The gusher blew his big top high and long and proud, he would hit the kids provoke the mother, and go on and on and on.

One evening when the parents were away the now 10 yr. old boys 8 year old younger brother tried to stab the baby sitter with a big bowie hunting knife, one of dozens of weapons in the house.

When the father came home, he locked the six year old baby girl in her room and for 3 hours non stop he beat the 3 boys and mother with fist, hands and belts. The families screams and cries were loud thru the night.

Time passed and the hurricane seemed to be a one time event, yet, we still had a wildcatter walking thru the door every night, not knowing who would appear, and at times violence sparked it never errupted again, until.........

The family went to a mans home to get a family photograph, the two middle boys now 10 and 12 thought it would be fun to make goofy faces for each picture. Finally the photographer after two hours of trying was able to get two photo's.

That night when they got home, the father locked the little girl in her room, and beat the family, the night of the hurricane had returned.

At 14 the boy had had enough, he ran away from home. At first he thought it would be an adventure, a better life, and he soon learned many ways of the world. Yet, he was determined and stubborn, finally it became clear as bad as his home had been it did have one saving grace, as bad as his father had been he was no where near as bad as what he had found out on the streets alone.

The boy returned home at 18, and was amazed at what he found. The wildcatter had went bust and broke and had too go too work for others, and as if by magic he had found his niche, wildcatting for others. He found many wells and was paid very well, and the family had a new big home they owned with a pool.

The father did not ask any questions of where he had been or what he had done, he just seemed to be happy he was home. So, I detant was established. The 18 year old boy went to work at menial jobs for money and found now that when the wildcatter came home he no longer would be sour crude, or mean, or vicious. He was often just happy.

A time came for a father son talk about the sons future. The son loved to be out in the sun and work with his hands. The father stood up and called him a fool, that no son of his would work his hands, that he had two choices go too college or walk out the door forever and too never come back. And then he pulled his hand back for his biggest punch and with a grin he said, and option two is not an option, because it will be hard to walk thru that door with two broken legs.

Now, the 18 year old boy on the verge of man-hood understood some simple things, his father would not break his legs, yet, he did know he was at a crossroads in life, his life. Walk out that door into a world that cared nothing about him, with no money or skills, or take the offer of half a bus ticket too college. In that moment he chose college, something he dispised doing.

The young boy failed and got kicked out of college 3 times in 2 years, he was a horrible student a failure. And each time the boy failed, the father was not mad, how could that be, the father just said, well, you're trying keep it up.

The boy then made a vow too himself too finish to educate himself. He went to school in the mroning, work in the afternoon and too the library at night too study, every night without fail five nights a week.

While studying one night he he needed a break so he walked amongst the stack of books and looked and all the knowledge there and then a light bulb went off. Somewhere in this library is the answer to my problems, he knew someone had walked in his same shoes and had the same adversities and had overcome them. Ah-ha, he was not stupid, he was not lazy, he had just plain old had the wrong teachers.

Before long he young man was spending more time reading library books than doing his studies. He flunked out once again.

His father drove up too college too talk too him. In the meantime while he had been at school the big happy home he had returned to was no longer happy, just still big. The father had a girlfriend, and everyone knew it.

They had a nice lunch and again the father was supporitve, the kid was trying. As they were too part ways, the boy turned to his father knowing all the hell the whole family was going thru and said, "Hey, dad, i know times are tough and things are bad, i just wanted to say i appreciate u for the good things and that I love you."

The father turned to the boy and said, "She's not the first girlfriend, I've had many."

The boy opend the door and walked away, shocked and confused knowing he had been told a secret that could never be told too the rest of the family or it would hurt them more. And at that moment he hated his father for burdening him with that secret, a secret that only destroyed and ate at his soul.

When the young boy graduated and had a job, he called a meeting with his father. He laid down the law as he know saw it, the father had a choice he could be in the young mans life or not, it was up too him. If he was he was never ever too disrepct the son again, to be treated as a man, an equal an adult. And lo and behold the old wildcatter did.

Several years later the father married the girlfriend and the mother wen into a deep depression.

One fathers day when the young man was 33 he wrote his father a love letter. He said after having his own responsibilties and the responsibilties of others depending on his hands he understood the constant pressure and stress that could erupt when times were bad, and how that made u scared times would never be good. I thanked for all the things he had done right in his life and forgave him for all the bad, knowing harm was not his intention even thought that was the result.

Two nights later the father called the son crying. It was the greatest gift he had ever recieved and he was so proud of his son because he had always wished to write his own father such a letter.

As life goes on things change in a moment, the faterh passed away one night after a hear attack. Since the son had now been his best friend for a decade he was to give the euology. Three hundred people were coming from throughout the world because the wildcatter who could not control himself in his youth had ended his life as a great leader of men, when he was surrounded by the help of other good men.

The 35 year old man could not sleep thru-out the night. How can one twenty minute speech honor a mans life, and then the conundrum, the son knew all the good the bad and the ugly, and 80% of the people attending only knew of the good, a few the bad but only a half dozen the ugly.

At 4 o'clock in the morning he awoke and sat down at the kitchen table and scratched out a speech titled "My One Regret", basically at the apex of the speech, he rang out for a call too arms, what his fathers greatest regret in life was that he did not have the courage to tell his children he loved them until his son was 27. So, what the son encouraged the crowd thru his fathers wishes that this night this week when they go home if they have not done it yet too act in a courageous way and tell your loved ones that you do love them, and do not do it once, because once is not enough. Do it often enough until it feels right enough.

That evening at the fathers home many people gathered, the local priest wanted the son too speak at his church, many men came by and noddd there heads and whispered, yes they too needed to act in a courgeous way.


William Shakespeare considered one of he greatest literary talents wrote stories on generational histories of families, the ying and the yang, the bad and good the struggles that sometimes exist thru generations and how the same mistakes afre often repeated and passed down from the genrational line.

The father was a great leader of men.

The son built great buildings with no passion yet contentment. After that speech he knew his calling, he would attempt to lead and help fullfill one mans wishes, he had done it once with the toughest wildcatter he knew and in his heart of hearts he knew he could do it with others.

I wrote this story because sometimes when I read things they resonate with me.

Stray has been saying lately, U don't know me, u have not walked in my shoes, what gives u the right too judge me.

In closing the only person who can value my net worth is me, not u not someone else. I know very little in life, because life is big and complex and often cruel. Yet, I will never ever succeed my individual power and the worth of myself too another, as the young uns say, been there done that, saw the whole show

One of the most complex things in life is BELIEVE, it is hard too see them, too hear them, too feel them. What we do know is each of us who walks this earth has them, and the only way to understand them is too never stop trying and too keep the lines of communication open, because sometimes, miracles do happen.

[mandarb11]

TweetWow great story bro, that is very touching stuff.

[Klash]

Tweet

lol, they say things come in 3's and i haven't said diddley about myself in ages

Are you saying this is your story, about your life? Sorry man, I'm a very precise guy, the slightest implied contradiction and I'm confused. The above quoted statement and then the "third person narrative" threw me.

[trip]

Tweetyes, sorry about the mismatching

like i said, had written a story, or said anything about me in years