I have often heard of expressions to answer questions on solving difficult life situations. I was at some coffee shop once, probably after an AA meeting had let out. It was a warm fall day and the leaves were falling slowly and full of a mix of the lovely fall colors of orange, yellow and browns. I was grappling with the idea that I club med was over for me, meaning, that I could no longer use weed, cocaine, any kind of opiate, and my most favorite and socially acceptable escape, booze to solve my problems and pains of daily living. I could no longer take the edge off when trying to meet women in clubs or pubs or at the beach...etc etc etc.
And I heard the question, "how do you eat and elephant?", answer, "one bite at a time". and that made sense to me. Other phrases like, "one day at a time", "easy does it, but, do it" and "first things first" also have helped me along the way as well.
But, lets start at the beginning and see how this journey goes. I will tell you this straight off, so be warned. This is going to be gritty and honest and full of highs and lows, stars and bars, and exploits that are totally true and colored with shades of gray, as some of what I tell because of 'hear say" as I may have been there, but memory fails me, either do to age or being in and altered state.
I started drinking and taking drugs in a the town I grew up in, a place on the boarder or Vermont and New York state in Massachusetts. The town was all of about 9 thousand people with not one single person of color, which I always found to be odd, not that I am any other color but Irish white, but, its just seemed odd looking back. At one tine the place thrived from the textile mills and paper mills that ran in the Northeast, but, since the railways stopped running the industry moved to places like Savanna and regions to the south.
My father, a successful Criminal attorney was dying of pancreatic cancer, it was 1978 at the time and I was in 7th grade. We still drank water from the tap and came home when it was dark and we heard our mother calling in our neighborhood, and over the golf course near our house. I was in a tree house we had build the year before with a bunch of boys, one of which was from the wrong side of the tracks, not that either side was much better. He had some weed on him and asked if I wanted to "do a bowl".. I was afraid as I envisioned a whole bowl of cereal the size of my morning corn flakes.or something. Ha! he pulled out a small bowl and we smoked and it made me laugh and bond with my fellow smokers. We made a plan to meet up that weekend in the cemetery and drink some beers that Friday night before the dance.
And I heard the question, "how do you eat and elephant?", answer, "one bite at a time". and that made sense to me. Other phrases like, "one day at a time", "easy does it, but, do it" and "first things first" also have helped me along the way as well.
But, lets start at the beginning and see how this journey goes. I will tell you this straight off, so be warned. This is going to be gritty and honest and full of highs and lows, stars and bars, and exploits that are totally true and colored with shades of gray, as some of what I tell because of 'hear say" as I may have been there, but memory fails me, either do to age or being in and altered state.
I started drinking and taking drugs in a the town I grew up in, a place on the boarder or Vermont and New York state in Massachusetts. The town was all of about 9 thousand people with not one single person of color, which I always found to be odd, not that I am any other color but Irish white, but, its just seemed odd looking back. At one tine the place thrived from the textile mills and paper mills that ran in the Northeast, but, since the railways stopped running the industry moved to places like Savanna and regions to the south.
My father, a successful Criminal attorney was dying of pancreatic cancer, it was 1978 at the time and I was in 7th grade. We still drank water from the tap and came home when it was dark and we heard our mother calling in our neighborhood, and over the golf course near our house. I was in a tree house we had build the year before with a bunch of boys, one of which was from the wrong side of the tracks, not that either side was much better. He had some weed on him and asked if I wanted to "do a bowl".. I was afraid as I envisioned a whole bowl of cereal the size of my morning corn flakes.or something. Ha! he pulled out a small bowl and we smoked and it made me laugh and bond with my fellow smokers. We made a plan to meet up that weekend in the cemetery and drink some beers that Friday night before the dance.
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