A Bit About Bear
Bears childhood memories are not as happy as mine. Everyone called his Father, Doc. Bear was told he got the name because he saved one of Bears Grandfathers work horses from being shot after breaking a leg. Doc had been married before and there were three half brothers who were almost grown before he married Bears Mother. Bear has a sister who is two years older.
Their Mother was still alive when I met Bear, (she just died a few years ago) but Doc died when Bear was 17. Doc was a successful businessman, but he was an alcoholic and not a successful parent.
Doc continued the success of his Fathers coal yard, back when everyone needed coal to heat their homes. He owned all but one corner lot in a two block stretch of the street we live on now. (Just this side, a half of two blocks I should say.) Gradually he built 5 small homes on the other block to rent out and then sold the coal business that was needed less in a modern world. He moved his family a few miles out of town where he built a ranch home with a shop in back. He used the shop to build furniture. We still have a cedar cabinet he built. Bear had a single bed set too, (TK usded it for awhile) but we let his sister have that. He still had the rentals and his furniture business was growing when he died suddenly.
As a parent, he didn't do very well. He was a violent alcoholic. Bear's earliest memories include his Mom taking Bear and his sister outside to hide under a coal wagon. They were told to stay there till a light went off to signal their Father had passed out and it was safe to go in. Doc often took his small son (before he was old enough for school) to bars with him, and slap the boy around when Bear got bored and wanted to go home. Bear learned to sit very still and quiet till he could hardly hold himself on the stool. He believes he was about 12 or 13 one winter day when he told his Father he wanted to walk home. Doc was drunk and mumbled what Bear took to be an ok. Bear got home and was reaching for the door when he heard his Fathers truck. Before he could get in the house, his Father spun him around and hit him in the jaw. The blow sent the boy sliding across his Mothers polished hard wood floors all the way to the other wall. It also broke his jaw.
There are still stories among the old timers about Doc. Most of them not very good. Doc was known to take the coal trucks to southern Ohio and into West Virginia where he would pick up more than coal. It's common knowledge that he was running moonshine in a false bed under the coal. There are even rumors that he shot an agent who tried to stop him. (But, doesn't that come with the territory?)
This was Bears childhood, raised in violence. But, Bear also heard, from his earliest memories, that he was too stupid to ever amount to anything. His Father never taught him to do anything. He didn't even want him to watch when he made furniture and Bear wasn't allowed to touch the tools. Even when he was in high school. He grew up believing he was only good enough to sweep floors in his Fathers shop. Or shovel mud out of the rentals after the Flood of 1959. Or mow lawns. Physical and mental abuse back when anything a parent did was accepted.
Violence does not always breed violence. There can be an opposite reaction. Bear is the gentlest man I've ever met. He is totally in control of his temper. I yell. He does nothing. Push him too far and he will clench his fists and tremble. Then he quickly relaxes and walks away. It would be very stupid to push him past that.
I've been with him since 1982, and only once have I ever been witness, and thought he might lose it. It was one of our wedding anniversaries, maybe 10 years ago or so, and we had gone out to our favorite Chinese Restaurant. When we got back to the parking lot after our meal and climbed in the car, he turned in his seat to back out. A car full of teenage boys had pulled right behind us and were talking to two more boys standing by their car. Bear waited a moment, then asked the boys to please move over a bit so he could leave. They got "gang cocky" and told him they weren't ready yet. He asked again nicely and they said no. Then one of the boys taunted him with, "What you gonna do about it old man?" WHOA! I thought my anniversary was going to end up with me bailing my husband out of jail. Bear shot out of our car. All 6' 2" over 225 lbs. of him. And he was madder then I've ever seen him. Those boys eyes got big and I've never seen a car in gear and moving faster then they wisely decided to move. Hooray for the reflexes of youth. 7 teenage boys were gone before Bear could get to the back of our car. It's a good thing. He was still shaking when he finally climbed back in the car. I was laughing and he calmed down. But, I strongly advise anyone against pushing my Bear too far. No matter how gentle, my "old man" can only take so much.
Their Mother was still alive when I met Bear, (she just died a few years ago) but Doc died when Bear was 17. Doc was a successful businessman, but he was an alcoholic and not a successful parent.
Doc continued the success of his Fathers coal yard, back when everyone needed coal to heat their homes. He owned all but one corner lot in a two block stretch of the street we live on now. (Just this side, a half of two blocks I should say.) Gradually he built 5 small homes on the other block to rent out and then sold the coal business that was needed less in a modern world. He moved his family a few miles out of town where he built a ranch home with a shop in back. He used the shop to build furniture. We still have a cedar cabinet he built. Bear had a single bed set too, (TK usded it for awhile) but we let his sister have that. He still had the rentals and his furniture business was growing when he died suddenly.
As a parent, he didn't do very well. He was a violent alcoholic. Bear's earliest memories include his Mom taking Bear and his sister outside to hide under a coal wagon. They were told to stay there till a light went off to signal their Father had passed out and it was safe to go in. Doc often took his small son (before he was old enough for school) to bars with him, and slap the boy around when Bear got bored and wanted to go home. Bear learned to sit very still and quiet till he could hardly hold himself on the stool. He believes he was about 12 or 13 one winter day when he told his Father he wanted to walk home. Doc was drunk and mumbled what Bear took to be an ok. Bear got home and was reaching for the door when he heard his Fathers truck. Before he could get in the house, his Father spun him around and hit him in the jaw. The blow sent the boy sliding across his Mothers polished hard wood floors all the way to the other wall. It also broke his jaw.
There are still stories among the old timers about Doc. Most of them not very good. Doc was known to take the coal trucks to southern Ohio and into West Virginia where he would pick up more than coal. It's common knowledge that he was running moonshine in a false bed under the coal. There are even rumors that he shot an agent who tried to stop him. (But, doesn't that come with the territory?)
This was Bears childhood, raised in violence. But, Bear also heard, from his earliest memories, that he was too stupid to ever amount to anything. His Father never taught him to do anything. He didn't even want him to watch when he made furniture and Bear wasn't allowed to touch the tools. Even when he was in high school. He grew up believing he was only good enough to sweep floors in his Fathers shop. Or shovel mud out of the rentals after the Flood of 1959. Or mow lawns. Physical and mental abuse back when anything a parent did was accepted.
Violence does not always breed violence. There can be an opposite reaction. Bear is the gentlest man I've ever met. He is totally in control of his temper. I yell. He does nothing. Push him too far and he will clench his fists and tremble. Then he quickly relaxes and walks away. It would be very stupid to push him past that.
I've been with him since 1982, and only once have I ever been witness, and thought he might lose it. It was one of our wedding anniversaries, maybe 10 years ago or so, and we had gone out to our favorite Chinese Restaurant. When we got back to the parking lot after our meal and climbed in the car, he turned in his seat to back out. A car full of teenage boys had pulled right behind us and were talking to two more boys standing by their car. Bear waited a moment, then asked the boys to please move over a bit so he could leave. They got "gang cocky" and told him they weren't ready yet. He asked again nicely and they said no. Then one of the boys taunted him with, "What you gonna do about it old man?" WHOA! I thought my anniversary was going to end up with me bailing my husband out of jail. Bear shot out of our car. All 6' 2" over 225 lbs. of him. And he was madder then I've ever seen him. Those boys eyes got big and I've never seen a car in gear and moving faster then they wisely decided to move. Hooray for the reflexes of youth. 7 teenage boys were gone before Bear could get to the back of our car. It's a good thing. He was still shaking when he finally climbed back in the car. I was laughing and he calmed down. But, I strongly advise anyone against pushing my Bear too far. No matter how gentle, my "old man" can only take so much.
posted by LeeAnn | 11:03 AM
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