Like most people, I have a past. I’ve sown my Wild Oats.
Most of us have.
Mine, though, is not as bad as many others.
With Spina Bifida, I didn’t do a lot of things that others might have done.
I do not condemn anyone who drinks. It doesn’t bother me.
That said, from time to time, you will hear stories from my past that do include drinking.
—2013—
I awaken in my backyard with my Dawg “Max” lying beside me.
I lean up and knock over some empty Alcohol Bottles lying on me and beside me.
During the week, I worked.
On the weekends, though, especially Friday Night, I drank.
“Hey, buddy,” I say to Max.
“Max” was a full-blooded Black Lab that my late brother Tony had given me. How Max got from Tony to me is a long story. Too long to tell here.
I tell Max, “I have a house with Two Beds, Two Couches, and a Swing on the back porch. …and I wander out here to the backyard to sleep on the grass. I’ll never understand the drunk me.” —Max licks me on the face.
“I always wind up out here,” I say.
I pat him on his head again, “And you always lay beside me and keep me warm. I hope I’m not worrying you when I do this.”
I check my phone to see what time it was.
“5:15 am, buddy,” and I lean back on the ground.
I look up at the night sky. It was still dark outside this time of the year.
The stars were out.
And a memory comes back to me.
—The Early ’90s—
I was a teenager at a Party with my brother Tony.
Most people were underage drinking, which was standard at House Parties back then.
I wasn’t drinking, though. My brother wouldn’t let me.
He got me a Beer in a can, poured the beer out, and filled the can with water.
“Walk around holding this,” he said. “You’ll fit in.”
He knew if I drank beer, I’d fill my diaper up with Pee and wet myself. He was always looking out for me.
I danced that night, smoked cigarettes, listened to Pink Floyd, walked in on older teens making out, and drank gallons of water.
I had a blast.
Soon, though, I realized I had gotten lost from my brother.
I went from room to room, asking if anyone had seen him, and so far, nobody had.
Finally, one guy told me that my brother went outside to pee.
I hurried outside to find him.
Outside, off in the distance, where the woods were, I heard someone singing to themself.
“Ah. Found him,” I mumble and head over that way.
In the woods, there were two giant, flat, rocks. And about six feet below the rocks, you could crawl up under them and sleep. We had camped out in that spot many times. We all knew about “The Rocks.”
Following the sound of singing, I find my brother at “The Rocks.”
He had crawled up under the rocks and was going to sleep.
I head back to the house party.
Back at the house, I sneak around, opening closet doors, until I find what I’m looking for—blankets and pillows. Every home has a closet with extra blankets and pillows in case of extra guests.
I grab some blankets and two pillows, sneak out the back of the house through the sliding glass doors, and head back to my brother.
Back at “The Rocks,” I make a pallet and roll my now passed-out brother onto the pallet.
I place his head on a pillow, grab the next blanket, and use it to cover us up. I then lay my head on my pillow, snuggle up to my brother, and pull the blanket tightly over us.
—I say my brother watched out for me, but really, we watched out for each other.—
—Back To 2013—
I’m lying on the ground in my backyard.
“Max” is beside me.
The stars are above me.
Empty Bottles and Cans lie beside me.
“Tony” had passed away from a Brain Hemorrhage a few years before, and “Max,” the dog Tony gave me, had snuggled up to me, slept beside me, and kept me warm all night.
I get myself up off the ground.
“C’mon, buddy. Let’s go get into a proper bed and sleep properly.”
I did eventually quit drinking and did rededicate myself to the Lord.
