Rest in Peace, My Dear Dad

My Dad would never let me have a funeral for him.  He always told me that funerals were for the living – not the dead, and he didn’t want one.  A dear friend of my mom’s died two years ago in her 80s, and her instructions were to have no funeral, no obituary, no nothing.  Dad said he wanted the same.  Perhaps he will indulge me in a few words about his life.

Thomas Fenton Bell, Jr., was born on October 20, 1937, in Yancey County, North Carolina – he died when he was 82 years old on Friday, December 13, 2019.  He was raised by a single mother, who had proclivities toward alcoholism.  He never knew his Father – not sure exactly the last time he saw his Father (I’m guessing when he was about 7 years old or so), but the only time I ever saw my Dad cry was on the day that he got news that his Father had passed away.  When my Dad was a young boy, he and his sister suffered from every “typology” of abuse and neglect that the Department of Social Services investigates – physical abuse, neglect, abandonment, and other types of trauma.  Having worked for the agency for the past 15 years, I know what childhood trauma can do to a person – it has irreversible long-term effects. 

My Dad married my Mother in 1966, and honeymooned in Gatlinburg, TN.  Can’t you see them on the chairlift?  When I came along in 1968, my Dad devoted his entire life to me.  He “over-did” it, if you will, as a Father.  He was protective, generous and concerned about every facet of my life.  He gave me anything that I asked for.  He would defend me to anyone for any reason.  He was my champion, and guardian angel.  I could do no wrong in his eyes – even if I actually did wrong.  He read anything he could get his hands on to teach him how to be the best Dad he could be. He worked ‘round the clock at our family business – a 72-bed nursing home – to provide the extras in life for me and my mom.  He spoiled us rotten.  I remember when I was 8 years old, we had one of the first “car” TVs, as we called it.  It was about a 6-inch screen, with a heavy plastic body that plugged into the cigarette lighter, with an antenna.  We could only get about 3 channels while in the car, but whatever was on we would watch it as though we were watching the moon landing.  He took us to New York, on cruises, gave me spending money at the drop of the hat, bought me a brand new car when I was 16, and so much more.  My Dad was a very generous man with my cousins too – anytime “Uncle Tommy” came to town, it was Santa Claus – the kids could have anything they wanted.  He was also generous with his time – never missing one special event in my life.

Despite the stability he had, and a wife and child that he loved more than himself, there was a darkness to my Dad that lasted throughout his life.  He was bitterly jealous of anyone that loved my mother and I.  He had anger issues – usually over absolutely nothing. He wasn’t a happy person overall, and found difficulty in enjoying life.  He was cynical and didn’t care about politics – when I was a young girl he would let me go in the voting booth and pick the candidates for him.  He had very few friends.  He really didn’t care about anything except for my Mother and me.  I know why he was like this – it was because of the childhood trauma.

I will remember my Dad for the incredible advice and support he gave me during his life.  I often share his advice with my friends, and he was right.  He always told me to do things that make sense.  Sounds simple, right?  But oftentimes we don’t do things that make sense for our lives. He told me about Harry Truman’s daughter coming to him with a plan for her life.  The President’s advice?  If his daughter wanted to do something, then he strongly advised her to do it!  Dad advised me to do those things that I wanted to do, without question.  He told me not to get wrapped up in “causes.”  He said that in making life’s important decisions, you must be calm, firm and logical.  He gave me a laminated copy of “What is class?” which I carried around in my purse for years.  (All I could remember is that Esau had it, Jacob didn’t…..but I googled it and have reproduced it below.)  My Dad made everyone around him laugh.  At restaurants, he would ask the waiter if there was a fire in the kitchen, because the food was hot for a change.  He would also often order a Budweiser and a chocolate doughnut for breakfast – a line he got from a book by Joseph Wambaugh, his favorite author. He told children that if they didn’t shape up, they were going to wear their ass for a helmet --  another line he got from somewhere. All it accomplished was to make everyone around him crack up – especially the children.  He would tell every woman he met that they were the most beautiful woman in that particular locale, and they believed it.  When the hospice nurse recently asked me whether my Dad was religious – I said, well….after my mom died in 1994, he joined about five (5) denominations of churches, depending on the lady with whom he was spending time.  Ha!  He had more charm than the law allowed.  Until he didn’t – when the darkness came through.  And handsome – whew!  He was the spitting image of Elvis in his heyday.  He loved to dance.  He loved watching me and my daughter dance, and my son play in the band and symphony.  He didn’t take life too seriously.  And neither should we.

 Rest in peace, my dear Dad.  I love you.

What is Class?

Class never runs scared. It is sure-footed and confident in the knowledge that you can meet life head-on and handle whatever comes along. Esau had class; Jacob didn’t. Those who have class have wrestled with their own personal “angel” and won a victory that marks them thereafter.

Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class is considerate of others. It knows that good manners are nothing more than a series of petty sacrifices. Class bespeaks an aristocracy that has nothing to do with ancestors or money. The most affluent blue blood can be totally without class while the descendant of a Welsh miner may ooze class from every pore.

Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not strive to look better by making others look worse. Class can “walk with kings and keep it’s virtue, and talk with crowds and keep the common touch.” Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class- because he is comfortable with himself.

If you have class, you don’t need much of anything else. If you don’t have it, no matter what else you have – it doesn’t make much difference.