ADvantage Catdome: Linfield’s 2013 season comes to an end at Whitewat...: Through victory or loss our 'Cats stick together. This past Saturday was a roller-coaster of a day from an emotional and physical st...
It seems odd to me that the #2 ranked team in the country had to travel to Whitewater once AGAIN
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Twenty Five
Twenty five years ago I set sail on a remarkable journey, one that is not yet completed, nor will it ever be until my cold and lifeless body slides down the slab into the fire crusted furnace of the crematorium. Fanning the flames of life with ethanol had became an obsession, an addiction, quieting the monster, Fear. With it, I was able to leap tall buildings with a single bound, was stronger than a locomotive, was a great dancer, lover, talker and doer of all things great, grand and wonderful.
Without it, I was lower than snail poop on the bottom of the deepest ocean. Dumb, stupid, ugly, fat, lame, loser and grossly inadequate in every way! My self portrait was not good.................but add alcohol and wha-lah......Everybody's buddy and the doer of all good things......Add some more alcohol and wha=lah.....Instant Ass Hole!
I did not know it, but I was a classic practicing alcoholic, suffering from the Baby King Syndrome, alternately better than you or worse than the worst! Angry and not knowing it. Fooling only myself. Self medicating all my quirks, self loathing and moral inadequacies with the strongest of all depressants: alcohol.
Twenty four years of drinking commenced before I reached my sixteenth birthday and continued to get progressively worse with the passage of time. Six cans of sixteen ounce Rainer Beer started the free-fall. Instantly it changed my whole perspective on life. I became whatever I wanted or you wanted me to be. I loved it. It worked. It tasted like the vomit it became after one too many, but I became accustomed to the taste, the high, the puking and the hangover. The eternal regrets, the disappointments, degradations, the cops, jail and finally the hospital led me on the journey of discovery.
I learned I had a disease.....a dis-ease. Uncomfortable in my own skin......A mental obsession and a physical allergy to King Alcohol. I learned that alcoholism is indeed a disease, recognized by the American Medical Association as such in the early 1950's. As such, it has a cause ( an etiology), a diagnosis (a determining nature) a prognosis(medical forecast) and probable cures. The ability to absolutely abstain is the absolute cure.
I learned that about 10% of the population digests alcohol differently from the rest. It's complicated but the jist of it is that we alcoholics don't completely rid our bodies of the chemical residue of alcohol. Some is left in our brains and when more alcohol is digested it tells us "MORE", "MORE"!! The only other place this chemical is found is in the brains of heroin addicts!!! No wonder I rarely only had one or two drinks!! No wonder the obsession and compulsion and addiction! I could not leave it alone once I started!! It was a booklet entitled "The Disease Concept" that opened my eyes to the possibility for recovery from the fatal disease of alcoholism. I had a disease!
An early medical expert on alcoholism proposed from his long and varied experience working with drunks that a psychic change was mandatory for a successful prognosis. How was this possible? Other M.D.s, counselors and shrinks had no success in "fixing" me. A conundrum for sure. My first wife helped me solve the riddle. She joined AA and shortly thereafter laid AA's "Big Book" on my bedside table. I read it. It worked. It still works as long as I do what I need to do to stay off the sauce, stay happy-joyous and free. I realize I know only a little and I keep an open mind. I know what has worked for me. I went from a daily tavern drunk to being a healthy, happy, productive and mostly sane member of the world.
Thank You AA for saving my life and millions of others.
Twenty five years being sober once seemed impossible and not even desirable. Now I am eternally grateful for the new life I have been given only by surrendering to the concepts of greater good that were presented to me. Thank God!
Without it, I was lower than snail poop on the bottom of the deepest ocean. Dumb, stupid, ugly, fat, lame, loser and grossly inadequate in every way! My self portrait was not good.................but add alcohol and wha-lah......Everybody's buddy and the doer of all good things......Add some more alcohol and wha=lah.....Instant Ass Hole!
I did not know it, but I was a classic practicing alcoholic, suffering from the Baby King Syndrome, alternately better than you or worse than the worst! Angry and not knowing it. Fooling only myself. Self medicating all my quirks, self loathing and moral inadequacies with the strongest of all depressants: alcohol.
Twenty four years of drinking commenced before I reached my sixteenth birthday and continued to get progressively worse with the passage of time. Six cans of sixteen ounce Rainer Beer started the free-fall. Instantly it changed my whole perspective on life. I became whatever I wanted or you wanted me to be. I loved it. It worked. It tasted like the vomit it became after one too many, but I became accustomed to the taste, the high, the puking and the hangover. The eternal regrets, the disappointments, degradations, the cops, jail and finally the hospital led me on the journey of discovery.
I learned I had a disease.....a dis-ease. Uncomfortable in my own skin......A mental obsession and a physical allergy to King Alcohol. I learned that alcoholism is indeed a disease, recognized by the American Medical Association as such in the early 1950's. As such, it has a cause ( an etiology), a diagnosis (a determining nature) a prognosis(medical forecast) and probable cures. The ability to absolutely abstain is the absolute cure.
I learned that about 10% of the population digests alcohol differently from the rest. It's complicated but the jist of it is that we alcoholics don't completely rid our bodies of the chemical residue of alcohol. Some is left in our brains and when more alcohol is digested it tells us "MORE", "MORE"!! The only other place this chemical is found is in the brains of heroin addicts!!! No wonder I rarely only had one or two drinks!! No wonder the obsession and compulsion and addiction! I could not leave it alone once I started!! It was a booklet entitled "The Disease Concept" that opened my eyes to the possibility for recovery from the fatal disease of alcoholism. I had a disease!
An early medical expert on alcoholism proposed from his long and varied experience working with drunks that a psychic change was mandatory for a successful prognosis. How was this possible? Other M.D.s, counselors and shrinks had no success in "fixing" me. A conundrum for sure. My first wife helped me solve the riddle. She joined AA and shortly thereafter laid AA's "Big Book" on my bedside table. I read it. It worked. It still works as long as I do what I need to do to stay off the sauce, stay happy-joyous and free. I realize I know only a little and I keep an open mind. I know what has worked for me. I went from a daily tavern drunk to being a healthy, happy, productive and mostly sane member of the world.
Thank You AA for saving my life and millions of others.
Twenty five years being sober once seemed impossible and not even desirable. Now I am eternally grateful for the new life I have been given only by surrendering to the concepts of greater good that were presented to me. Thank God!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Alley
The last day of February was my brother-in-law's last day at the salt mines. He, gratefully, retired. Adios, so long, good bye! Weather wise, it was a typically cold, stormy February day. Rain blown sideways by a strong, steady wind. Eighteen wheelers blasted volumes of spray on the windshield, as we drove up to Portland to celebrate Jack's retirement with a family dinner gathering and the whole group attending an Eric Clapton concert in Portland's Rose Garden.
Most of my siblings, some of the in-laws and my eighty six year old Mom were there to send Jack off to a happy retirement with a mighty fun event and dinner. And it was special. Los Lobos opened the concert with a loud, refined, spicy set. Then we all leapt to our feet to welcome Eric Clapton to Portland Oregon with a rousing roar. He played many of our old favorites and some new ones, with all the vim, vigor and vitality that he almost always does. Truly, the best concert I have been to in quite some time. We all loved it.
Surviving the traffic jam afterward, we found our way back to my sister's house in South East Portland for a pie and ice cream. The cold, wet and dark night made the drive through an unfamiliar city an adventure filled with small talk about the concert and family gathering. Two different pies and delicious vanilla ice cream were a perfect ending to a perfect retirement celebration. We all stayed up late conversing and contemplating Jack's future endeavors with good feelings and laughter! A good night.
We had traveled two hours to get to Portland and did not wish to drive home late at night on a blustery night. My sister had graciously invited us to spend the night in a spare room, which we welcomed eagerly. Their large and roomy house was a century old, firmly planted in a stately old neighborhood filled with similar houses. The hour was late and we were warned that my nephew, Clark, would be coming in late. No worries. I was tired and surely would fade quickly as soon as my head hit the pillow. A firecracker would not wake me, being that spent. Ellie stayed up and chatted with my sister for a while longer. I vaguely recall her coming to bed sometime later.
Three a.m.: this was my sudden wake up alarm. "DAD, SOMEONE'S BREAKING INTO THE GARAGE"!!!First, Clark's heavy footfalls running down the hall and down the stairs. Then Jack's equally heavy footfalls closely followed. I became wide awake VERY quickly, aware that both Clark and Jack were in pursuit of a burglar. I took just a couple seconds to collect my thoughts and formulate a plan of action. I knew I had to get involved in this. What if the scumbag was armed? Gun? Knife? Club? Accomplice? 6'5" 250 lbs? In light sleeping shorts and t-shirt, after I found my glasses, down the stairs I too, flew!
The back door was open and out into a freezing rain I went, barefoot, barely clad and a bit apprehensive as to what lay ahead.......The garage was a separate structure located out back, accessed by a half-assed paved
alley which paralleled the street. Running down the sidewalk toward the alley, I saw the broken window and somehow missed stepping on the shards of glass with my bare feet.
Jack suddenly appeared from the freezing drizzle in the alley darkness. "CLARK'S GOT HIM DOWN" he shouted as he headed back into the house! "HOLY SHIT", I thought. Complications clouded my racing mind.
What if Clark is overwhelmed? What if? What if? What if???? In the dark of the night and in the adrenaline of the moment a 2x2x4ft garden stake said "Take ME". I did and up the alley I flew!! Apprehensions cast aside, fearing my nephew might be endangered by an unknown evil burglar, adrenaline racing through my veins. My course was set!
Clark, too had a club. He was on top of the scumbag with the club firmly around the front of the perp's neck. He had made the creep drop a large folding jackknife just before I flew onto the scene. My college and high school wrestling experience told me that Clark was too high on this burglar's back and could be overturned. Clark, the hero, dressed in only his underpants let me take over pinning the dude down. An uncle's adrenaline and concern prevailed as I sunk my 240lbs onto the small of the scumbag's back with one knee and slammed my club horizontally across the back of his neck, forcing his face into the hard cold pavement. "SPREAD 'EM" I screamed. One of his hands was under his body and could have had a weapon in it. I eased up just enough to let him slowly get his arm out. "KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM" I screamed, while I firmly pressed his head and shoulders back into the freezing pavement. "DON'T MOVE!!!!" was my next loud bellow!
Jack had retrieved his cell phone from the house and was desperately trying to dial 911 as he made his way back up the alley in the freezing darkness. Amazing how the fingers fumble under the duress of a freezing night and scary circumstances. It seems like only a few minutes passed after he made contact with the 911 operator when THREE of Portland's Police patrol cars showed up with six officers ready to cuff the creep and throw him in the rear seat of a squad car. We were VERY grateful for their quick response on such a damn cold and wet night. "We were in the neighborhood" Officer Young replied, when I thanked them for their sudden appearance in that dark, damp, cold alley.
Clark and Jack were responding to all the officer's questions, when I asked with a shivering voice "Can we go inside and finish this" And so we did.
Who could have known that Jack's retirement evening would end in the alley, with three cop cars, a captured burglar and us freezing our scantily clad butts off!
Most of my siblings, some of the in-laws and my eighty six year old Mom were there to send Jack off to a happy retirement with a mighty fun event and dinner. And it was special. Los Lobos opened the concert with a loud, refined, spicy set. Then we all leapt to our feet to welcome Eric Clapton to Portland Oregon with a rousing roar. He played many of our old favorites and some new ones, with all the vim, vigor and vitality that he almost always does. Truly, the best concert I have been to in quite some time. We all loved it.
Surviving the traffic jam afterward, we found our way back to my sister's house in South East Portland for a pie and ice cream. The cold, wet and dark night made the drive through an unfamiliar city an adventure filled with small talk about the concert and family gathering. Two different pies and delicious vanilla ice cream were a perfect ending to a perfect retirement celebration. We all stayed up late conversing and contemplating Jack's future endeavors with good feelings and laughter! A good night.
We had traveled two hours to get to Portland and did not wish to drive home late at night on a blustery night. My sister had graciously invited us to spend the night in a spare room, which we welcomed eagerly. Their large and roomy house was a century old, firmly planted in a stately old neighborhood filled with similar houses. The hour was late and we were warned that my nephew, Clark, would be coming in late. No worries. I was tired and surely would fade quickly as soon as my head hit the pillow. A firecracker would not wake me, being that spent. Ellie stayed up and chatted with my sister for a while longer. I vaguely recall her coming to bed sometime later.
Three a.m.: this was my sudden wake up alarm. "DAD, SOMEONE'S BREAKING INTO THE GARAGE"!!!First, Clark's heavy footfalls running down the hall and down the stairs. Then Jack's equally heavy footfalls closely followed. I became wide awake VERY quickly, aware that both Clark and Jack were in pursuit of a burglar. I took just a couple seconds to collect my thoughts and formulate a plan of action. I knew I had to get involved in this. What if the scumbag was armed? Gun? Knife? Club? Accomplice? 6'5" 250 lbs? In light sleeping shorts and t-shirt, after I found my glasses, down the stairs I too, flew!
The back door was open and out into a freezing rain I went, barefoot, barely clad and a bit apprehensive as to what lay ahead.......The garage was a separate structure located out back, accessed by a half-assed paved
alley which paralleled the street. Running down the sidewalk toward the alley, I saw the broken window and somehow missed stepping on the shards of glass with my bare feet.
Jack suddenly appeared from the freezing drizzle in the alley darkness. "CLARK'S GOT HIM DOWN" he shouted as he headed back into the house! "HOLY SHIT", I thought. Complications clouded my racing mind.
What if Clark is overwhelmed? What if? What if? What if???? In the dark of the night and in the adrenaline of the moment a 2x2x4ft garden stake said "Take ME". I did and up the alley I flew!! Apprehensions cast aside, fearing my nephew might be endangered by an unknown evil burglar, adrenaline racing through my veins. My course was set!
Clark, too had a club. He was on top of the scumbag with the club firmly around the front of the perp's neck. He had made the creep drop a large folding jackknife just before I flew onto the scene. My college and high school wrestling experience told me that Clark was too high on this burglar's back and could be overturned. Clark, the hero, dressed in only his underpants let me take over pinning the dude down. An uncle's adrenaline and concern prevailed as I sunk my 240lbs onto the small of the scumbag's back with one knee and slammed my club horizontally across the back of his neck, forcing his face into the hard cold pavement. "SPREAD 'EM" I screamed. One of his hands was under his body and could have had a weapon in it. I eased up just enough to let him slowly get his arm out. "KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM" I screamed, while I firmly pressed his head and shoulders back into the freezing pavement. "DON'T MOVE!!!!" was my next loud bellow!
Jack had retrieved his cell phone from the house and was desperately trying to dial 911 as he made his way back up the alley in the freezing darkness. Amazing how the fingers fumble under the duress of a freezing night and scary circumstances. It seems like only a few minutes passed after he made contact with the 911 operator when THREE of Portland's Police patrol cars showed up with six officers ready to cuff the creep and throw him in the rear seat of a squad car. We were VERY grateful for their quick response on such a damn cold and wet night. "We were in the neighborhood" Officer Young replied, when I thanked them for their sudden appearance in that dark, damp, cold alley.
Clark and Jack were responding to all the officer's questions, when I asked with a shivering voice "Can we go inside and finish this" And so we did.
Who could have known that Jack's retirement evening would end in the alley, with three cop cars, a captured burglar and us freezing our scantily clad butts off!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Used
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Fit
FIT
What does it mean? My new shirt fit. I'm fit to be tied. My job was a good fit. I am physically fit. Something suits you just fine....a state of being satisfied.....being as well as you can be are my definitons. Webster says "1.well suited. 2.in good condition. 3.- v. be or make suitable. 4.-n. manner of fitting. 6. sudden attack of illness or emotion. So, I guess I had it about right.
A wordsmith I am not, but feel compelled to try this blogging stuff out for awhile. I have time. I love to read and have read other blogs; some interesting. Some, not so much. I did just okay in English compostion at Linfield College. Right now I am fit to be tied because I am not very physically fit, however retirement fits me just fine. Thank you God!
Most of my life I have been pretty physically fit. Sports and other physical activity had been a major focus of my adolescent years. Physical exercise and jobs were a mainstay of my adult years as well. Participation in football, wrestling, track and physical summer jobs/activites were youthful pursuits helping me form a young boy's body into a man's. A college scholarship to play football and wrestle followed. After a period of military service and employment to just get paid, I found my life's work.
I've always enjoyed physical exercise and work. Coupled with that was a label from others as "a people person". I tried pure sales work and found that though I enjoyed people I did not ejoy "conning" them into buying things they really did not need or want. A close high school buddy called one day and offered me a job as a driver/salesman in the beer business. A good fit! I liked beer. I liked people ("people person", remember) , I had experience driving large vehicles and I was selling something every customer wanted on their shelves.....BEER. A good fit.
Being physically fit was a prerequisite and, in turn a result of of that kind of work.
Long story made short; that led to a good job in the freight business. Thirty-plus years of a vocation that fit and made me physically fit. What doesn't kill ya, makes ya stronger!
Retirement fits too! But as a result of a vocation that fit and being so physically fit for so many years; my body is worn OUT! Four days ago I arose from bed and almost fell on my face. My right knee and right hip locked up in pain, not wanting to be ambulatory at all! Am I to be one of those bent over old men, struggling to get down the supermarket aisle to get his oatmeal? Reliance on Aleve, Ibuprofen, Vicoden, Tylenol, Aspirin?? Canes leading to walkers, leading to wheelchair??? As I shuffle around the house from one resting spot to another I am fit to be tied!! I wanna be FIT again................and I WILL!
What does it mean? My new shirt fit. I'm fit to be tied. My job was a good fit. I am physically fit. Something suits you just fine....a state of being satisfied.....being as well as you can be are my definitons. Webster says "1.well suited. 2.in good condition. 3.- v. be or make suitable. 4.-n. manner of fitting. 6. sudden attack of illness or emotion. So, I guess I had it about right.
A wordsmith I am not, but feel compelled to try this blogging stuff out for awhile. I have time. I love to read and have read other blogs; some interesting. Some, not so much. I did just okay in English compostion at Linfield College. Right now I am fit to be tied because I am not very physically fit, however retirement fits me just fine. Thank you God!
Most of my life I have been pretty physically fit. Sports and other physical activity had been a major focus of my adolescent years. Physical exercise and jobs were a mainstay of my adult years as well. Participation in football, wrestling, track and physical summer jobs/activites were youthful pursuits helping me form a young boy's body into a man's. A college scholarship to play football and wrestle followed. After a period of military service and employment to just get paid, I found my life's work.
I've always enjoyed physical exercise and work. Coupled with that was a label from others as "a people person". I tried pure sales work and found that though I enjoyed people I did not ejoy "conning" them into buying things they really did not need or want. A close high school buddy called one day and offered me a job as a driver/salesman in the beer business. A good fit! I liked beer. I liked people ("people person", remember) , I had experience driving large vehicles and I was selling something every customer wanted on their shelves.....BEER. A good fit.
Being physically fit was a prerequisite and, in turn a result of of that kind of work.
Long story made short; that led to a good job in the freight business. Thirty-plus years of a vocation that fit and made me physically fit. What doesn't kill ya, makes ya stronger!
Retirement fits too! But as a result of a vocation that fit and being so physically fit for so many years; my body is worn OUT! Four days ago I arose from bed and almost fell on my face. My right knee and right hip locked up in pain, not wanting to be ambulatory at all! Am I to be one of those bent over old men, struggling to get down the supermarket aisle to get his oatmeal? Reliance on Aleve, Ibuprofen, Vicoden, Tylenol, Aspirin?? Canes leading to walkers, leading to wheelchair??? As I shuffle around the house from one resting spot to another I am fit to be tied!! I wanna be FIT again................and I WILL!
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