25 Less Than Disgraceful Years

It was well over 25 years ago today that I was told in no uncertain terms "what my problem was." I invited the telling from a bar keep I was anxious to argue, if not fight with. At 25, through college and wearing a suit to work, making decent money - I couldn't wait: drunk, fool, ... nut, the words meant nothing to me. I could beat them back with the cleverest of rationalizations. Unfortunately, he used none of them. When telling me "what my problem was," he said, simply, "You're a disgrace to humanity."

And the problem wasn't so much the words he used, words that still make me wince, as I can still hear them as clearly today as I did that night. Deflated, I turned, left the bar and walked out into the night alone. You see, the problem was, I agreed with him. And I invested the next month in proving just how much.

A car wreck dispatching, not one, but two telephone poles, throwing me through the windshield, again, not once, but twice as I bounced around inside the sedan. Ever see a car with two deep telephone pole indentations in the hood, two spots in the windshield where a head crashed into it, though there was only one passenger? I have. I got out, laughed, and walked around the wreckage a mile or two from where one of my brothers was killed in a similar fashion some years earlier. I had a smoke and climbed back in, nodding off while waiting for the EMTs. It's almost cliche but nevertheless true  - my doctor and anyone who saw the car said I should have been killed. I was treated and released nearly immediately with minor cuts and no charges. It didn't slow me down.

I'll skip the details of the mostly lost days and nights of that month or so, a time period which culminated with a DUI arrest and a night in jail for carrying on afterward as, handcuffed to a chair, I threatened and goaded some number of state and local policemen, until they tired of me, bounced me off the walls a spell, choked me until I had their hand prints all around my neck, then tossed me into a cell. An attorney took pictures. I never filed a complaint. I made a point of thanking them months later at the hearing when I surrendered my license.

Lying on the jail bunk I fashioned two future paths for myself when I was released the next day. I could take what money I had and move, California came to mind. Or I could simply end my life. Honestly, I saw no other path.

I lay about at home for a day or so before calling another brother, a policeman at the time, one who had previously helped me out of some jams, as with the accident above. "You're a drunk, what are you going to do about it?" he said. We ended the call there. A "drunk?" At 25? How utterly ridiculous. I hadn't even started to really live.

I had some pamphlets. They made good coasters as I had taken to sipping Scotch while playing the guitar in the evenings. I picked one out, made a call and went to a gathering at a church later that night. I've since worked at a rehab-related facility for a spell, but have never attended one as a patient.

In the basement of a church in Princeton, NJ I found myself surrounded by a dozen strangers in one of several smaller groups gathered throughout a crowded and candlelit basement: Share and Care, the group was called. They each took a minute to say something about themselves and when it became my turn I don't know what I said, not much, not before I started to cry, anyway. If I strain to recall, it was something like, "I'm Dan. I think, I guess, I mean, I don't know, I guess maybe I'm an alcoholic, I really don't know" then some blubbering. I spent the next hour and a half listening, not to people telling me what I should do, simply talking about them, their lives, their strengths, weaknesses, their hopes - their experiences, mostly.

Ninety some drink-free days later I sat at a table over dinner with a new found friend. I told them this stuff really wasn't for me. I wouldn't make it. I was different, not a joiner and the whole God thing really was a bit much.

"Are you going to have a drink tonight?", she asked. "No," I said. "Good, then go home and go to sleep." Eventually, I did.

And that's all I've done, really .... for twenty-five years, or about 9,125 days. And while admitting to having many faults and having made my fair share of mistakes, what I haven't had to do since is try to fall asleep while thinking I was a disgrace to humanity. And if you've ever thought that about yourself, trust me, not thinking it is a gift that goes beyond anything I once thought I might only hope to enjoy in this silly little thing I call my life. And that's enough, for today, anyway.

G'night.

Comments

[Larry Sheldon]

Wow.

[katablog]

Thanks Dan. We've all done some very stupid things in life. Those of us that made it through to the other side are the lucky ones. It's good to take stock of one's life and remember where we've been from time to time.

[Kathleen]

Happy Birthday, Dan.
Keep coming back =)

[ze]

Dan
In the past two years that I have been reading your board, you have opened my eyes/mind to the politics and MSM.

Thank you.

[Phoenix]

File this with the piece on Easy. I can't even suggest a title for the file - 'Personal' is not good enough because while the stories are certainly personal, they have affected and moved all of us. Good for you, Dan.

[Mike Roark]

One day at a time. Well done fellow traveler.

[Cindi]

One of the lucky ones :))

Your humor is what keeps you going.

xoxox

[Cindi]

Oops..........Happy Anniversary Dan

[Fred Beloit]

Don't know what to say, Dan, except glad you are beating it and what follows, the classic SAM.

[Phil]

Your story is much too like mine! Congrats! It really is a gift.

[voiceofreason63]

Thanks for sharing Dan. I'm a couple of years behind you but like other commenters had a similar experience. I've believed since then that everything happens for a reason and a purpose (long before Rick Warren sold his book). I believe that people who go through what you did come out much stronger and focused on the important things in life.
Best regards!

[dylan]

Dan Riehl,
I first stumbled upon this blog when you were roasting Rep. Kennedy for getting and "beating" his DUI.
Your position on the matter makes more sense today.
Although your opinions and ideas still need some adjusting, I congragulate you on the decision you made and the very dificult 25 years of follow up.
P.S. Bartenders have always, "told it like it is." Allow me to let you in on a little trade secret, if you haven't already figured it out. Bartenders don't know shit, they simply have incredibly captive audiences. Commentaries on humanity and inclusiveness thereof aside, bartenders are drunks as well; just with different hours.
Their opinion rendered insufficient.
Here's to the second twenty-five, the first twenty five, the next twenty five and the next...
Hopefully you get my drift.. Congrats.
Dylan