The Ol' Bear

Someone once said "...Never speak ill of the dead..."

As children, we grew up in my grandparent's house. My Grandfather, born in 1900 was of the generation who lived through some of the worst periods in modern history.

His Dad died when he was young. So at 13, my Grandfather took over running the farm, becoming the sole provider, surviving through the Spanish Flu, WWI, the Stock Market crash, the Depression and then WWII...he experienced it all.

When we moved in, I was but 4, he was 60. He seemed terribly old at the time, but actually in years, he wasn't.  In fact, I'm now 68, so it would have been 8 years ago for me if our roles and lives were reversed.

He liked to call himself "...The Ol' Bear..." and it was appropriate.

My Grandfather was ever the authoritarian, with a 3 inch wide, 36 inch long leather razor strop hung on the kitchen wall to prove it. The type friendly old barber's used to sharpen straight razors, and mean old grandfathers used to sharpen mischievous children...

And I was full of the mischief!  I won't go into details - though there are some.  And I still today consider it child abuse.  A strop applied to the but-tox is painful, applied to the legs - it becomes memorable...

Some will never admit to hearing voices in their head.  But for me, even though he passed long ago, back when I was 16...his is the voice that has stayed in my head over the last 60 plus years...speaking, judging and correcting - though never invited, and never welcomed.

And I hated him for it...

Hate is such a strong emotional word.  An emotion I never thought existed within me.  But sometimes we have doors we just don't open, and dark corners we look away from.

Though memories and dark corners can sometimes be changed under the light of introspection...and with God's help...

But now, I have finally found peace with my memories of him. But only since retirement. Only since taking the time to reflect back over the details of the many adventures of life, the highs, the lows, the silly and the serious.

For so long, I saw only his meanness, which seemed constant...and the beatings - thankfully few, but so very memorable.

Though now in retrospect, as only one example, it was he and that strop which introduced me to the pain of lying, generating a life long commitment to never, ever lie again.

That single item has been foundational to my career, instilling a deep trust - somehow perceived by others - that I will never lie...no matter the consequences.

He instilled a work ethic, and a moral code with clear rights and wrongs, and a desire to better myself.

Hatred for him propelled me to prove I could be successful and drove me to never be satisfied.

But - I am satisfied now...

My soul is finally at peace...

At this point, if we were to ever meet again, perhaps I might even say "Thank you" for helping to shape who I am today.

Though perfect virtue is still a long way off, I'm better for having known him and even though beaten - my spirit was never defeated...

And the Ol' Bear...

Now that I've found peace, he seldom comes to visit anymore...

Let the adventure continue...