The plan was to make this my last column. Yes, the idea was to end on this topic, ideally with Column No. 1000, which would have been during the first few months of 2022. Figure, 52 columns a year (I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve never missed a week!); today\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s column is around No. 540, so we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re more than halfway there.<\/p>\n
Here goes anyway, but in my round-about way, I need to give some background. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m a teetotaler now, but not for any religious, social or moral reason. Quite simply, when I checked out of Christus-St. Vincent almost two years ago, after a bleeding ulcer, the attending physician suggested I not drink at all anymore, I assume because ulcers and alcohol don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mix.<\/p>\n
Why didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t I shop locally and keep my tax dollars in Las Vegas? Well, the only doctor at the time who could treat my condition was out for the weekend.<\/p>\n
The timing of the decision to give it up was perfect, as I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d already had my two beers that year. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve told people I enjoy a beer or two on Super Bowl Sunday, and I might go months without touching anything alcoholic. Strange, but building up a tolerance is easy. In the early \u00e2\u20ac\u02dc70s, when I was digging postholes for our 540-foot fence, a six-pack of Jax, which then sold for a dollar, would tide me over, as I was sweating it off.<\/p>\n
The last time I had beer, weeks before the hospital visit, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d begun my second glass during the football game and almost said to myself, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Self, you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re getting dizzy, and you don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t want to start slurring your words and embarrassing yourself and others.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
But the real reason I enjoy my teetotalerhood is that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve stuck with it.<\/p>\n
Let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s make a few things clear: Like many who believe that registering as a freshman in college instantly converts them to legal drinking age, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d had my share of imbibing. As a raw recruit in the local National Guard unit, I once overdid it while drinking with friends, all of whom must have passed out. I drove four buddies home, one at a time, and it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s difficult to pick up limp bodies.<\/p>\n
Now let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s go back to those college days:<\/p>\n
I must have been one of many moviegoers who believed it was hilarious watching people hung-over, say, from a New Year\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Eve party. We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve all seen the tycoon with an ice pack on his head who\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s muttering, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why do I feel so lousy this morning when I felt so great last night?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
We laugh at that, probably for the same reasons we laugh when someone trips and falls: because it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not happening to us.
\nMy vivid experience was during a pledge night for a campus fraternity. Several of us freshmen had been invited to a beer bust at a local hotel. There was music, complimentary cigarettes, and lots of beer. The record player was blasting, and I got in line with what seemed like 50 young men to do the taquache, a rather pointless dance in which we link arms in a straight line and sally forward and backward.<\/p>\n
My adolescent brain believed that was the most fun I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d ever had in my life. And I thought I was delightfully funny when in the men\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s room, I grabbed a paper towel to place in the dispenser and read the word \u00e2\u20ac\u0153push,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d So I pushed the canister clear across the restroom floor. I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know why the older hotel guest in the room failed to find humor in my sidesplitting antics.<\/p>\n
As the party wore off and my inebriation continued, I chose not to go home \u00e2\u20ac\u201d yet. Mom and Dad would not be have been amused. One of the pledges had earlier invited me to spend the night in his dorm room in Mortimer Hall, which was then a men\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s residence hall. It sat on the spot of the new Student Center.<\/p>\n
I picked my words carefully, explaining to my parents I was going to pull an all-nighter, studying with Harold. Yeah, right.<\/p>\n
The few short blocks between Grand and Eighth Street whizzed by, as I realized that not only was I going about 60 on a residential street; I was driving in the wrong lane. Now that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m about four times the age I was then, I still wonder what would have happened if I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d killed an innocent pedestrian or driver, while cranking my car to the max.<\/p>\n
Something \u00e2\u20ac\u201d I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know what \u00e2\u20ac\u201d stopped me. Did the car stall? Did I come to my senses? Did my conscience convince me what I was doing was wrong?<\/p>\n
I parked the car right where it had quit, a few blocks from my host\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s dorm, inhaled some night air, and realized I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d sobered up, somewhat.<\/p>\n
Well, that experience cured me. I never ever ever drove again with even one drop of liquor in me. The thought of killing oneself, or of severely injuring myself and\/or others, terrifies me.<\/p>\n
So now you have it: The confessions of a person who might still be paying for his crime, had my car not have simply stopped.<\/p>\n
Monday\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Optic editorialized \u00e2\u20ac\u201d I believe quite emphatically \u00e2\u20ac\u201d on the rash of DWI cases in this area. Where do underage kids get the liquor? Who supplies it? Will lab tests show who was drinking last weekend? In the case of the fraternity party of 1957, somebody provided the beer, as there were several kegs of it.<\/p>\n
It would be naive to assume this column would influence others never to drink and drive. Yet I can hope it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll help.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u00a2 \u00e2\u20ac\u00a2 \u00e2\u20ac\u00a2<\/p>\n
You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll recall this topic was supposed to comprise my final installment of Work of Art, years hence.<\/p>\n
Pardon my being premature, but the fatal accident \u00e2\u20ac\u201d two killed, six injured \u00e2\u20ac\u201d last weekend caused me to jump the gun.
\nThe entire community suffers as a result of the tragedy.<\/p>\n
Now, let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hear it for sobriety.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The plan was to make this my last column. Yes, the idea was to end on this topic, ideally with Column No. 1000, which would have been during the first few months of 2022. Figure, 52 columns a year (I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve never missed a week!); today\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s column is around No. 540, so we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re more than halfway […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[2],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1057"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1057"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1057\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1058,"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1057\/revisions\/1058"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1057"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1057"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1057"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}