"sittin, drinkin, superficial thinkin"...

I'm the son of an alcoholic and the grandson of an alcoholic. Believe me, it was a shitty way to grow up. They both went to rehab, they both "slipped" from time to time after rehab. But, they both took charge of their lives and got much, much better.

Experiencing that and the turmoil it causes in a family, I do drink and have drank to excess over the years. I believe alcoholism is a disease and I don't have it. I've given myself every opportunity to succumb to the disease and haven't. I've worked with people and had friends who have. I've participated in interventions and driven people to rehab centers and some times it's worked and other times it hasn't.

I've been to the classes for Adult Children of Alcoholics, spent a week with my Mom during her rehab during "Family Week". Our family and others went to classes in the morning and participated in group therapy with our patients in the afternoon. I heard some incredible stories and heard a lot of bullshit too. One guy denied he was an alcoholic because he only had one drink a day, his wife said, "That's right, 16 ounces of Jack Daniels over ice."

I've experienced one "black out". I was in college, a woman I was dating told me she might, be pregnant, she wasn't sure, but...

A friend of my father owned a bar, I had just turned 21. It was the middle of the afternoon, I ordered a beer and told him what was going on. He said, "A man's problem calls for a man's drink and poured me a stiff whiskey and many more. I woke up the next morning on the floor by my bed. I had no recollection of how long I'd stayed at Kenny's bar or how I'd gotten home. I looked out the window down to the parking lot. My car was sitting there with the driver's door open. Luckily it didn't have a scratch on it . I didn't either. I did have a terrible hang over, but I made it to my summer job and suffered through the day.

The drinkers in my family drank to escape their demons, when they were sober the demons were still with them. Drinking doesn't ever make things better, it doesn't work that way.

Over the years, when I've had a problem to confront on a personal or professional level I don't drink. I asked a friend who is a practicing psychologist about this, over drinks, by the way. He said, "You're refusing to look for an escape from what ever is staring you in the face and that's a good thing."

I drink when I'm in a good mood, sure I've gotten belligerent and mouthy, but I'm like that when I'm sober.

I have the alcoholic genes, somehow they haven't connected for me like they did for Mom and Grandpa and I'm grateful for that

I'm speaking, not preaching, but when I watched Bret Kavanaugh act out during the hearing the other day, what I saw was behavior and an attitude that I'm all too familiar with It's called denial. I've seen it so many times in my life, I've experienced first hand.

When Senator Klobuchar asked the judge whether he'd ever blacked out?,

He shouted back at her, "Have you?" Senator Klobuchar is the daughter of an alcoholic, I doubt if she was surprised at his at his response. It was a classic denial technique from an alcoholic.

I remember sitting with my drunken Mom and her saying, "Well you drink too."

One of the AA classics is "Poor me, poor me, pour me another drink." Watch the replay, Kavanaugh hit that note and others. He ran the table with every one of the symptoms of alcoholism.

He's got the disease and by the look on his wife's face during his performance, she knows it all too well.

What I've learned...

I had my first girlfriend at 14, little Annie and I taught each other how to kiss. Her sister got pregnant at 16, I went to the wedding, a very sad affair, a 16 year old bride, a 17 year old groom, unhappy and distraught families. After the sad little church ceremony we all went out to eat. Halfway through the meal, Annie's dad, an Ai Force Colonel, a B 52 pilot, looked at me and said, "come on outside, I need a smoke". We stepped out of the restaurant, he lit his cigarette, took a long drag and told me, "If you ever do anything like this to my Ann, I will cut your dick off and make you eat it. Do you understand me?" I got it.

A year later I was 15 and Ann was in Turkey at an  AFB, with her Mom and Dad. I was a sophomore in high school. One night a friend of mine and I had a two six packs of beer and two of our female classmates in the car, we were riding around drinking beer. The girls got smashed on a beer or two apiece. We parked and started necking. One thing led to another and I had my hand in the girl's panties, something I'd never done before, I liked it and so did she. Then she said, "Don't make me a dirty girl." I stopped, I got her message.

The next year I had a regular, girlfriend, she was smart, pretty and we got along in everyway possible. We did everything together, we loved each other's company. We were pretty hot and heavy,. We had a long conversation about whether to "go all the way" at the time of the conversation we were naked in my car. We decided we would only go so far and stop. We ended up doing everything except the "act" itself. It worked out well for both of us.

In high school, there were a couple of situations, parties that got out of hand and I heard rumors about the kind of things that happened. I know one girl who had her reputation destroyed by bragging boys. I'm not sure of what happened, but she was the loser in the equation. Another big party, another reputation ruined. I was happy I had a girlfriend I could get naked with 5 times a week.

The common denominator? The girl paid the price never the guy.

A few years later, A college girl friend's sorority sister get hammered with the help of a senior boy, she ended up "pulling a train" at a house party. The result, the girl left school on Monday without a word. The guys laughed. Later the "train conductor" began dating another of my GF's sorority sisters, my GF warned her about him. She laughed it off. a few months later the guy beat the living shit out of her. Nothing happened until her brother, an offensive lineman for the Eagles, found out from their parents, When the season ended, he got in his car and drove straight to the campus and beat the guy within an inch of his life.

When I was 20, I checked into a hotel for the first time with a woman. I couldn't believe how experienced she was for 19. She told me she'd had an "uncomfortable" relationship with a teacher in his 30's for two years in high school. She felt it was her fault.

Years later I was dating a TV anchor, on our fourth or 5th date she told me about getting raped when she was 16. She hoped that I would understand why she wanted to take our relationship slow. She felt she needed to apologize for something she'd had no control over.

So yeah I think Bret Kavanaugh is a lying son of a bitch and he shouldn't ever be on the Supreme Court. He says he doesn't remember, or recall. Bullshit, I remember all of these things like they happened yesterday. I can still see Annie's dad and his blazing eyes, angry and sad at the same time telling me to behave myself with his daughter.

 I've been an asshole from time to time in my life. But, I have never forced myself on a woman or even had the thought of it pass my mind. My entire life, I've been repulsed by the way some men act towards women.

I'm fortunate that I learned my life lessons and remembered them. Some guys never do.

A Memorable Boston St. Patrick's Day

There once was a group called the "New England Broadcasters Association" or NEBA. If you were a broadcaster from any of the New England States you could join and did they ever.

The best NEBA party of the year was the annual ST. Patrick's Day party. It was so big, broadcasters from all over the country made plans to be in Boston for the NEBA party.If you celebrate St. Patrick's Day American style, (an excuse to get drunk on a week day) The NEBA Party was exactly what you were looking for.

One year in the 70's the Party started at noon at the old Bradford Hotel in the theater district. Corned Beef, cabbage, boiled potatoes and carrots, plenty of beer (not green) and Irish Whisky.

The entertainment? Carmel Quinn and Dennis Day. They both looked like they were made up by an undertaker...

        

20 odd years later, my St. Patrick's Day went like this, lunch with a friend of mine at a Japanese restaurant (?) the food was good, but the conversation left a lot to be desired. I listened to 2 hours of complaints about her marriage. Around 3 we met a couple of friends for drinks at Daisy Buchanan's, an hour or so at Daisy's and we were off to the NEBA Party, held this year at a blues and barbeque joint. (?) The band, I can't remember their name, was okay. The food was pretty good, I had ribs and brisket, I think.

One thing led to another and I became the "boyfriend" of a Lipstick Lesbian I knew, my function was simple, keep guys from hitting on her. Our party had now grown to 8 or ten people, including two sisters from Brighton who latched onto the seriously drunk Kevin. Kev was at the point in the evening where all he could do was grin. My friend Tommy fell in love and disappeared with a TV reporter.

At the Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, I sat next to a retired bus driver at the bar. He hated the band and kept yelling for them to "turn that shit down".

He thought my lesbian "date" was the best looking thing he'd seen in years. He asked me if I was "tapping" her. Before I could answer, she jumped in and said, "Wouldn't you like to be, pal?" I just smiled at him. Somebody bought me a shot of Bushmills, I slid it in front of the old bus driver, he thanked me and slammed it. He told me, I was a "lucky man".

The Lipstick Lesbian and I lost Kevin and the sisters somehow, Tommy was gone with the TV lady and Billy wandered off. My unhappy friend and her husband had left hours ago. It was just the two of us.

Somehow we caught a cab to get back across the river. Lipstick couldn't drive so she stayed at my place, I loaned her a t-shirt to sleep in, we crawled into bed and said, "We can snuggle but keep your hands to yourself."