“Logic is a form of idealism.” That’s what my grandfather told me. “Logic understands the mind, ideas, and spirit as fundamental to our reality.” My grandfather was a wise man, but I didn’t know at the time he would just recycle old ideas – often Plato – to cast imagination into me as a child. I would repeatedly ask questions about rules, much to people’s dislike, including my grandfather. It came natural to me as a child to want to know everything, and to be curious about the trivial. Even though he used other people’s ideas it didn’t detour from the fact that he was wise. He gave me these ideas, and was intelligent enough to do so, irrelevant of whom said what first. The mere fact is that he taught and I learnt, and I learnt well. We used to visit the park every weekend, and eat in the cafeteria while quietly sniggering at the fat girls who would walk by with stacks of cakes, buns, and biscuits. He was a working-class hero, but that didn’t stop the fact that he was a kind man; at least to his grandson. He was hard headed, an ex-miner born and bred in the Welsh valleys, with a strong religious belief that he would often break. He didn’t read the Bible, nor did he attend Church, but he used religion as evidence to defend his thoughts. He had great pride in himself, and his friends and family, and would protect what he thought was right. “Obesity and stupidity are moral sins, son.” He would say, “They should be punished by their own flaws. The Lord didn’t make us to be lower than beasts, son. Seize what you can and when you can. Remember that.” He was a gentle man, but an alcoholic, and while we were eating at the cafeteria he would take huge swigs on Gin, or Whiskey. I was around 13 when he died. He came over for his last Christmas with the family, apparently looking like the cancer had hit him already, but I was too naïve to realise. He was still the same “Daddo” that would take me to the park, and sit on the floor with me while I played cards. I looked up to him and he was my idol, and since his passing I remember him every time I lift that bottle of Gin high in the air and take those swigs like he did. Here’s to you, Daddo. This one is for you, like every other. They’re all for you. Now, ten years past, I’m a reflection of that old fool. I drink for the best, and live for the moment while resenting sober times; they only help me reflect on the dire ages of the drunk. “Live for today, and for the day’s to come.” Through the best and worst of times, I keep this motto dear to me. Alcohol and drugs are a catalyst for my person. Without them I wouldn’t be the person I am today, or the person my Daddo was before. Let the drunks of the world unite as men among fools, par dieu. - L.A.Matthews
WOW that is great - I wish I could say things that well about people - I did once I had to read something that I had written about my dad at his funeral. It made everyone cry but it still wasnt as good and pictureful as what you just wrote ! If its a true story I got a good glimpse of who your grandad was and what he meant to you - If its not a true story then it is excellent fiction - either way I like it a lot and it made me think of people I have met who have a similar wisdom to his. I liked it because it said an enormous amount in very few words
I saw this ages ago and then it rapidly disappeared and I just found it again I trawled through every page in these writers forums an I think this is the best writing in here. If you ever turn this into few more pages it would be great
You're a fucking genius! And I'd love to have a drink with you. A bunch of drinks. Coming to Tallinn again anytime soon?
Yes. Dreadful place, I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. I couldn't guess in a million years what you liked about it.
