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Sunday, July 6, 2008

Wasted Time




Big smile, no smile. Two brothers. Different fathers. One picture can say an awful lot as it is said. Thats my father seated on the chair with the very unhappy face. 

His father  was a coal miner in Huerfano, Colorado in the 1900's. 

Conditions in the mines at those times were such, that Miners provided there own blasting powder, shored up their own walls, and laid their own tracks. Often they were cheated in pay when weighing the amount of coal that they had mined. Who wouldn't strike in those conditions.


 Now, who would be so desperate to become a scab in that kind of mine? What were the living conditions of those men who took the risk to earn money to take care of their families? That I've yet to find out, but I do know that my grandfather, the father of the boy seated, took this risk and was killed with a pick for doing so. 


Time passes and my grandmother remarries. What kind of man? That is what I would like to know. Still living in Walsenburg, with mines full of coal, around the age of 2 my dad gains a stepfather. 


Was my father thinking about his Christmas gift in this photo? He was given a red Wagon one Christmas morning. His only gift. Wouldn't that bring a smile to any child's face? I don't know how old he was when he received it, I was only told that he was not allowed to play with the wagon. It was only to be used to haul coal from the mines to his house. 


Was my uncle the favored child? Can't ask. He was killed in his teens when he was hit by a truck.  Was my father abused in other ways? Look at his face. Does it reflect sadness, anger? What things did he experience in his young little life to turn him into a depraved person?


The man he became that I experienced was split. I would play for hours with the slinky he had brought me when he worked out of town. When he came home from work I would rush to his lunch pail  to retrieve the cupcake he would always save for me.    He could tell jokes by the hour. His friends were always around.  His pals called all of the time or stopped  by  to play cards. People thought he was great.


 But I wouldn't let him touch me.


What would he have become had his father lived? A man that was willing to risk his life to take care of his family. What could he have learned from a father who cared so much? 


What would my life have been like? Would I remember my sister beside me on Christmas morning opening gifts? I have not one memory of her on Christmas. Instead I remember a tree  laying on the floor and a mother bent over it, crying, trying to pick up the broken bulbs and decorations. Hum, I thought they must have had a wild party.


Would my brother have gone on to college or become something in the sports world? Instead of punching my dad and my brother ending  up on the floor, would he have gone on to become a great father himself? 



The world of "what ifs" is a waste of time. Because in reality there is no going back. Abuse robs you of time. Time is what you need to sort out your head, your emotions and your life. And because you spend so much time doing that, time passes you by and before you know it, you've wasted it all on what never was. 


You can go to the following website if you would like to read more about the Walsenburg coal strike.


http://www.cobar.org/index.cfm/ID/581/dpwfp/Historical-Foreward-and-Bibliography/




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