Post by Emerson on Sept 17, 2020 15:43:48 GMT -5
When I was little my father used to sing some old Johnny Cash songs, he’d whistle them or sing them. But when he would drink and get, uhm he’d get dark, he’d smile in a way that you know he wasn't cheerful it was a grin that held back something more. And he’d go after my mother on those late nights, sometimes go after me and my sister.
I guess I should of thanked him. Because if it weren't for him I wouldn't of known how to be the father I am. I tried to be the exact opposite of him. And yet sometimes I hear him in my head. Telling me to stop being weak. That there is no room in the world for weak people. He’s always telling me how I am no good. And that my son came out the way he did because of the way I am. That its my fault he has Downs. He tells me my son would be better off without me. Tells me that my life is worthless just like me.
I drown out his voice as best I can. Though some days are harder than others. The point of me reliving all this is simple. We are not our fathers. We are our own men. Redd seems pretty intent on keeping me out of the ring. Normally I wouldn't care what an opponent has to say to me. But Redd is different. If I stay out of the ring I’ll be fine, but I’ll hear my fathers voice in my head telling me what a coward I am for not going to the ring. How much of a disappointment I am to him. Such hate from such a small pitiful man. I never understood how he could have been such a pathetic husband and father and an even worse man.
If I go to the ring, I go in knowing that something isn't right with Redd. And there are always prices to pay when you go into a match with someone who isn't quite all there. I feel for him. I think he needs some real help. And if there is someone who shouldn't be going into a ring it is him.
What is a measure of a man? The things we do, or the things we don’t do?
I guess that is it.
Fade to black
I guess I should of thanked him. Because if it weren't for him I wouldn't of known how to be the father I am. I tried to be the exact opposite of him. And yet sometimes I hear him in my head. Telling me to stop being weak. That there is no room in the world for weak people. He’s always telling me how I am no good. And that my son came out the way he did because of the way I am. That its my fault he has Downs. He tells me my son would be better off without me. Tells me that my life is worthless just like me.
I drown out his voice as best I can. Though some days are harder than others. The point of me reliving all this is simple. We are not our fathers. We are our own men. Redd seems pretty intent on keeping me out of the ring. Normally I wouldn't care what an opponent has to say to me. But Redd is different. If I stay out of the ring I’ll be fine, but I’ll hear my fathers voice in my head telling me what a coward I am for not going to the ring. How much of a disappointment I am to him. Such hate from such a small pitiful man. I never understood how he could have been such a pathetic husband and father and an even worse man.
If I go to the ring, I go in knowing that something isn't right with Redd. And there are always prices to pay when you go into a match with someone who isn't quite all there. I feel for him. I think he needs some real help. And if there is someone who shouldn't be going into a ring it is him.
What is a measure of a man? The things we do, or the things we don’t do?
I guess that is it.
Fade to black
