These days

I am okay. Still here and doing relatively well. Between gardening, riding, sailing and going to meetings, I stay busy.  Life has a familiar groove to it.

Getting through the worst heat of the summer has been difficult. The humidity is stifling.  I have been going to the barn to ride in the evening when the sea breeze comes up and no one else is around.  I prefer the quiet times there and going to the ring or to the fields when the sun is setting.

The garden is in the waning phase so I'm getting ready to plant some fall crops. It produced well, but the heat eventually beats down everything, except for egg plant and okra.  We put up over 75 quarts of tomato sauce for winter.  It was a two day long ordeal but we managed to get through it, although both of us did not want to see another tomato.

Sailing is still the most fantastic getaway for me.  I go out for several days a month, dropping the anchor and staying overnight.  It is relaxing in a way that's hard to describe. I sleep better on the boat with the gentle rocking.  Even though it's hot on land, the island near the ocean where I anchor has a great breeze. I sleep comfortably with the ports and hatches open.

I celebrated ten years in Al-Anon on August 13.  It is hard for me to remember all the turmoil of the years before I went and the moments that propelled me to attend my first meeting. I don't dwell on that time much.  I have a core group of two meetings I attend each week and have been adding a third on as often as I can.  We all remain imperfect, struggling to get along with others and especially with the alcoholic.

One of the greatest things that I have learned is to have compassion and empathy for all who are struggling with the disease of alcoholism, whether it is the alcoholic or the person affected by someone else's drinking. And the same for those who are struggling with life and the circumstances of it.  I don't judge others for their choices or struggles. And I have learned to not take what others do or say personally.  My hurt feelings about something unkind said to me have diminished from days to an hour.  I hope to get that to a millisecond, as the feeling flows through me.  Resentments are killers of happiness. No need to hold onto someone else's bad feelings.

I don't feel much of an urge to write anymore.  But I am going to keep the blog going, perhaps only visiting once in a while.  All that I have written about here with such urgency in the past seems much less so now.

C. and I have a remarkable love for each other.  She picked up her ten year chip a week before I did.  We have grown in peace of mind, love, respect and compassion for each other.  And we are growing old together.  Every day is one to hold onto.

Thoughts at the end of 2015

I don't do New Year's resolutions. A year is too much to contemplate. When one is just about over, as 2015 is, I do like to look back and see where I need to improve.

My health is good and I ran, walked and exercised my way to 1,193.17 miles thus far in 2015.

I sailed my boat over 90 days and viewed the time spent on her as sacred, a chance to reset my mind and meditate.

I bought a horse who is the most wonderful creature I can imagine. I became a re-rider after years of not riding. It was a learning experience in many ways.

I made new friends, kept my expectations low and was glad that I did. Many of my new friends awakened in me activism that has become part of my life again after too many years.

I grieved the loss of several close friends and much loved pets. I keep their memory close.

I read reviling diatribes and insults that made me wonder about humanity. I saw so much tragedy in the news that my heart ached.

I continued on my path to recovery in Al-Anon through service, meetings and writing here.  Although the latter has become less frequent, I know that writing down my thoughts and reading yours has helped me.

I am not sure what 2016 will bring. But I am going to do my part to stay the course, make things a little better for others and be mindful of love and compassion as I go about each day.

Wishing you peace in 2016.

Nine years today

Today is my 9th anniversary in Al-Anon.  I have told you about all of these years right here. You probably know more about my life than anyone, except for my first sponsor and my wife.  I'm grateful that you have been with me on the journey thus far.

And it has been a good journey in recovery.  I can remember how it started out. That first year was confusing.  My wife was new to AA, and I wasn't sure whether our marriage could be healed.  We didn't trust each other.  It was a rough time.

Gradually, as each year passed, we came to realize that if we applied the principles of recovery to our lives, we could prevail.  I learned about compassion and just how much I loved her.  I realized that we were both damaged when we met.  And as I thought of her as a child, fearful of the emotional abuse from an alcoholic father and a mother who was affected by her husband's alcoholism, I came to feel so much love for her.  I realized that I was wounded too by my father's drinking.  And I came to love him more than ever, along with my in-laws, because they did the best they knew how to do.

So C. and I shared a common bond of children affected by alcoholism.  I knew her pain, and she knew mine.  We grew to be respectful and kind to each other, rather than having the old judgmental and contemptuous feelings.  And over these years our love has grown to where we are today.  Neither of us can imagine life without the other.

I am so fortunate to have found out who I am and that I have a lot of good qualities.  I am grateful for having met so many people whose paths I would not have crossed if not for Al-Anon.  I am glad that you have been along for the journey too.  We have written, learned, cried, laughed, and comforted each other in more ways than I thought possible. Thank you all.

A courage campaign

I can see how life comes full circle.  Maybe it is something that happens to all of us.  When I was a young man in the midst of the marches on DC,  I felt on fire with the injustice and was filled with righteous indignation.  Now I see social injustice coming to the forefront of my mind again.  I don't feel righteous indignation as much as compassion to help mend the divide that is happening.

So, I have decided that it is time to move from being an arm chair looker at the restless times that are happening in this state, and join a unity movement that hopefully will gain momentum.  It started at the grass roots level here in this city where the Emanuel murders occurred, and has now grown into a state wide idea to get people of diverse backgrounds talking to each other.  Really talking--not just making pleasantries. One of the ways to do this is to eat together and talk about what we think and feel in the three weeks after the nine were murdered.

This is like having an Al-Anon meeting in a way: we meet strangers and a few people we know, share from the heart without fear, and listen to what others have to say while having a meal together.  It's called a Courage Campaign.  I am going to my first lunch get together today.  I don't see this as courage as much as being a part of healing by sharing what is in my heart and on my mind.

The division within this state since the murder of the Emanuel Nine has slowly eroded the good feelings of unity that happened after the shootings.  I listened to the debates at the state house over the removal of the Confederate battle flag.  I read hate filled comments on social media.  And I could see that the lines are firmly entrenched, just as they were on the battlefields some 150 years ago.

My ancestors fought in the Civil War.  Most came home according to written history.  One died of wounds.  My great grandfather was wounded twice at Gettysburg but managed to get back to Virginia.  I don't know what kind of people they were in terms of how they viewed the war or slavery. What I do know is that none of the letters I have from after the war, mention it at all.  It is as if that terrible time did not exist but was replaced with a desperate desire for normalcy of business and family.

What kind of horror my ancestors saw, I can only imagine.  Did they still see the blood from the musket and bayonet in later years?  I don't know.  None of that was passed down in oral or written history.  I have photos of one great grandfather as an old man sitting with a long grey beard.  His eyes are piercing.  I wish I knew his thoughts on whether his fighting was worth the blood and the death of hundreds of thousands.

Maybe the best way to determine that is to look at those family members that I did know.  My mother was an example of a person who was against segregation. I remember being with her when she greeted the first black lady who attended the church.  The higher church officials walked out, but my mother talked to and shook hands with the lady who walked into that church to integrate it.  Some how that seems courageous to me--to be the first to attend an all white church and to be one of few who greeted her.

And my father was a Democrat with a strong dislike of Nixon and Reagan. He once told me that it was important to treat everyone fairly and to not judge a person by color.  I had good teachers in my formative years about treating people well and without prejudice.  I didn't grow up with hatred for someone who was "different" from me.

Nonetheless, I am sure that prejudice was there in some form among my ancestors.  It may not have been overt, but perhaps it was simply a "separation" of space and heart and social mores.  But I want to do something now to provide space and heart and consciousness and unity as best I can.  I can't make up for the past, but this small effort of a Courage Campaign may be a good start.

Changes and hope

I am thinking about the outpouring of love that has occurred since the shooting of nine people at Emanuel AME church during their Bible study last week.  In a show of unity,  over 15,000 people joined hands to span the long bridge that reaches across the Cooper River to Charleston.  I was there, among a throng of people who came together to support each other and show that the actions of a deranged killer would not tear the community apart.

The 7 year old, who drew the picture above, depicts what I felt--light and love. Don't misunderstand though. There are difficult days ahead for this community and this state.  The Confederate flag which has been flown on the State House grounds and on the dome of the state capitol will come down, as it is coming down in the South and no longer being offered by retail giants.  It is time, past time, for the Civil War and all it stood for to be in the past.

Make no mistake that there is much resentment about this, for there are those who cling to it as a symbol of segregation and hate.  And thus, the voices and whispers of racism and bigotry will continue. I didn't grow up with those voices. In fact, I only began to hear them after we moved to South Carolina. And the voices have been prevalent in recent years, more than ever.  I remain hopeful though that other voices will drown out the ones who huddle in grand homes or walk the aisles of state government convinced of their superiority over anyone who is not white.  I harbor this hope that what we have been seeing is a sort of last gasp of the real hate - that this moment we are in represents the violent, cathartic end of the dark forces of division in the deep South. The outpouring of love needs to continue every day to keep those voices from drowning out the good.

These words resonate with me now more than ever:
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There’s a battle outside and it is ragin’
It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’~Bob Dylan

The times indeed are changing.  And for me change can't come soon enough. I am clinging to a glimmer of hope that the changes happening will be without further bloodshed.

The past repeats

It's said that history repeats itself. So now Charleston has revisited its history with the killing of 9 people in one of the city's most historic churches.  The church, Emanuel AME, was burned after one of the church's founders organized a slave uprising in 1822.  Worship services continued after the church was rebuilt until 1834 when all black churches were outlawed. The congregation continued the tradition of the African church by worshipping underground until 1865 when it was formally reorganized, and the name Emanuel was adopted, meaning "God with us".

I, like so many, don't understand how a person could be among good people for an hour and then shoot them.  I don't understand what is in the mind of someone so filled with hate.  Some have said that the confessed killer should not be called "mentally disturbed".  I see anyone who hates as mentally disturbed. Not as a defense for an action but simply a statement that those who spend so much energy filled with hate are depleted in their humanness. I am tired of the hatred expressed in social media, on TV, and radio shows--the threats and ignorant jokes about the President, gays, liberals, and anyone that doesn't espouse the same ideals.

I was born in the South.  I grew up during the time of early integration.  And I was appalled at the hatred shown towards people of color.  Nothing much has changed.  Racism was still festering and for many years in this country, people were not overt about it.  There was forced politeness.  But in the last decade, especially since President Obama has been in office,  hatred and intolerance of those who believe, look, or act different from someone else has exploded.

I have read so many political comments on social media and in print over the past few years that I have been shocked and appalled at the hatred out there.  I know who they are too. They are people that I went to first grade with, people who live in my community, people who I have known for years.  And yet to them, I am a Libtard, a socialist,  a "nigger" lover.  It hurts my heart.

Very sad that such an appalling tragedy has visited our community. We cannot live in a racially divided country again. No more. Stand up and speak up when you hear or see intolerance.  I refuse to listen to slurs and hateful comments about anyone. I refuse to be passive when faced with overt bigotry and racism.  I want to make my actions clear so that there is no doubt about my boundaries.

I feel numb about what has happened here.  Yet, I am not shocked by the events in this city and state that I now call home.  It was just a matter of time that the picture perfect post card of a city would revisit its violent past.  Charleston is touted as number one in tourism.  It is a beautiful city, and there are good people who live here. But there is another side of this old city that isn't beautiful.  I sadly don't expect much from anyone anymore. All I can do is try to shed a little light and do my best on this journey to show compassion and love.  

Intolerant of intolerance

I have read some interesting and troubling stuff this week on news sites.  I made the mistake of watching a few news programs and reading on line.  And it has made me want to retreat once again away others because it seems that there is zero tolerance for those who are different. Sad, isn't it--how little the feelings of others matter. I am appalled at how mean people can be, especially when hiding behind a computer. Sadly, I am getting to the point that I would rather not be around anyone who is intolerant. I guess that makes me intolerant of intolerance! I like to think of it as discernment though.

It seems though that everyone feels "entitled".  People have an opinion and are entitled to express their opinion, even when it is cruel and hurtful.  I  have opinions, but I do my best to have balance in how I express them. I remember that keeping my mouth shut can be a valuable thing to do. Entitlement seems to one of the catch phrases of today-- I am entitled to express an opinion, I am entitled to practice freedom of speech. All true, but sometimes it is best to consider and measure my words so that I don't do damage to others. THINK is a good program acronym--is what I am saying thoughtful, helpful, intelligent, necessary and kind?

I find that social media is all about airing private things in public. No matter what we post, it is open and out there for anyone to see. It can be deeply personal or it can be neutral--yet it is still available to people, many of whom I have not met in person nor do I know that I ever will. I question doing this quite often. But isn't being on social media a little bit like watching a train wreck? We are all voyeurs in some way which is why we are here.  We like to know what is going on with others.  And it seems that sometimes the most comments come when someone is having a hard time.

I am not referencing us bloggers who have been communicating for years, but to those social media outlets like FB and Twitter where people seem to take a delight in hiding behind a computer to cut, bash and argue with others.  My wife shows me comments from "friends" about how gays and lesbians are going to Hell because they are not following the Bible.  And the trans community is most definitely damned because they have changed from God's image. Neither one of us understands this vision of a Higher Power.

I think that unless people are hurt, abused or oppressed, they can live the lives they want.  I am reminded over and over of the mantra in Al-Anon that it is none of my business. I wish that others would learn to mind their own business, live and let live, and view others with compassion.  That seems to be a much better way for me to keep my serenity--in addition to not watching or reading news.

What makes a lasting relationship

I was catching up on some magazines and ran across this article in the Atlantic Monthly. Basically, the article sums up what makes a happy lasting relationship and what causes contribute to other relationships falling apart.
"Much of it comes down to the spirit couples bring to the relationship. Do they bring kindness and generosity; or contempt, criticism, and hostility?"

A study done in the 1980's followed young couples, observing their interactions and their physiology.  The investigators did a follow up six years later to see if the couples were still together.  They found that contempt is the main factor that tears couples apart. Those who criticized or ignored their partner and injected negativity into interactions had failed or unhappy relationships.  The partner who was criticized and ignored felt worthless and invisible as if they were not present or valued at all.

Kindness, on the other hand, was what kept couples together. Kindness made each partner feel cared for, understood, and validated--and loved.

I honestly don't know how we have stayed together all these years given the conflict that I used to feel.  I know that there was kindness and love as well. But I also had a lot of distrust for the alcoholic promises where she would say "I love you" but her actions would be the opposite.  And I would do the same--keeping her at arms length because I didn't trust her promises not to drink.  The words said one thing but the actions were the opposite.  Those were confusing and hurtful times for both of us.

I have shared here and at meetings that living with an alcoholic is lonely.  It is very lonely because the other person is emotionally unavailable. And for those of us who love an alcoholic, we keep trying over and over to make the person available.  And I did that for years until I gave up and was ready to walk away.

Some kind of miraculous epiphany happened since those desperate times. I knew that I didn't want my marriage to end, but I also knew that I had to change.  I had to stop spending all my energy on wanting my wife to change.  So I focused on what I wanted with my life.  I looked beyond my work for peace of mind.  I bought a boat, did gardening, became active in Al-Anon, and gradually took care of myself emotionally.

It took a while for the contempt to go away.  I believe that when I did my fourth, fifth and sixth steps, I began to focus on what I was doing--what my part was in how the marriage was going.  I didn't like who I had become.  So as I became aware,  I was able to see that without kindness and compassion,  I was going to remain unhappy.  I would think of my wife as a little girl who had a difficult childhood being sent off to private schools because her parents were fighting and angry.  She grew up with no buffers from the turmoil, just as I did.  From visualizing her as a little sad girl, I was filled with love and compassion for her.

What we have now is respect for each other.  We appreciate each other. We can be genuine with each other.  We support each other emotionally.  We share responsibilities. We trust each other. And we want to spend time together.

We are still working on playing together, instead of being so task oriented.  Our communication is much better.  And we continue to grow in love.

Be the change you want to see in meetings and in life

Today is the first hint of fall that we have had here.  We awoke to a temperature of 67 F.  Now the windows are open and the whole house fan is circulating fresh air throughout.  The skies are blue and clear of clouds.  It is an invigorating morning.

Yesterday, I attended the district meeting and heard a lady talk about how she is being bullied in the rooms of Al-Anon by "big men and old ladies".  She went on a while with a rant about how she felt unsafe at some meetings. When asked by the chairperson what she wanted to be done, she replied, "I want to feel safe and to go to meetings where no bullying occurs."  I talked with her afterwards and invited her to come to the meetings that I attend, saying that I know they are healthy.  (Even though there are big men and old ladies at some of these). Sadly, I quickly found in my conversation with her that she is a bit unhinged.

People with outside issues (those who have problems other than alcoholism in a relative or friend) are in the rooms.  And some of them need more than the program has to offer.  I know that it's especially easy for me to look for fault in others and in meetings.  But I know that by working the steps and traditions, I have learned that not every meeting is healthy and that sometimes members have emotional and mental health issues that need attention by a professional.  I have been to a lot of meetings in the district and have had only a couple of experiences in which I thought the traditions were seriously being violated.

Everyone deserves to have meetings where they feel safe.  I advocate for being the change that I want to see at a meeting.  I don't hesitate to speak to someone after the meeting if I think that a meeting can be improved.  I do this in as respectful a way as possible.  I don't want to nitpick or be an Al-Anon policeman. However, I do believe that respect and compassion need to be extended to all who attend.  Talking over someone else,  bringing in non-conference approved literature (like the Bible or AA literature), talking about rehab centers, or giving advice (i.e. "You should do ______" or "You need to go to therapy", etc.) are not only confusing to newcomers but break the traditions of the program.

One of the fellows I sponsor is beginning to see that the rose colored glasses he was wearing are not working as well.  He has asked me about feeling anxious in some meetings and finding that some people are rubbing him the wrong way. I think that we all discover that people in recovery have plenty of "warts" and shortcomings.  When I find that a controlling person is irritating me, it's because I have the same shortcoming of controlling behavior.  The old adage "If you spot it, you've got it" applies over and over whether in recovery or not.

I'm going to head outside now, do a bit of work in the yard, and head to the hospital this afternoon to visit my first sponsor who is not doing well.  And then, I'll head to the boat to enjoy the rest of the afternoon doing some varnishing and reading the newspaper.  The day is too beautiful to spend being inside too long. Hoping your day is bright and shiny.

Another year is fast approaching. Go be that starving artist you’re afraid to be. Open up that journal and get poetic finally. Volunteer. Suck it up and travel. You were not born here to work and pay taxes. You were put here to be part of a vast organism to explore and create. Stop putting it off. The world has much more to offer than what’s on 15 televisions at TGI Fridays. Take pictures. Scare people. Shake up the scene. Be the change you want to see in the world. ~Jason Mraz

First world problems and my humanity

I haven't been a ball of fire lately.  My wife and I are feeling the fatigue that having viral bronchitis brought. And it has been raining just about every day. The rain started again this morning, coming down in sheets. Rainy days are relaxing. I didn't have anything that had to be done, although I did spend time reading and preparing for a course on sailing that I am teaching in September. And I took a nap in the afternoon, Tonight, my wife and I cooked dinner together. So it was a pleasant and generally relaxing day.

I am leaving to go on the boat tomorrow for a few days. It won't matter that the forecast calls for more rain.  If it rains, I will hunker down and read.  If the rain stops, I'll go for a long walk on the beach.  I don't think that I have had many bad days out on the water.

We are entering the dog days of summer now with humidity through the roof. Mushrooms are sprouting up in the yard.  And by tomorrow, the mile long dirt road leading to the tarmac will be nearly impassable. All my problems are definitely first world ones. Sometimes I feel awkward even writing about my life when there are so many that are suffering terribly all around the world and, shamefully, in this country that has so much.

I have friends whose worst problem is that their driveway at their second home didn't get paved on the day that they wanted it to be.  I know others who speak of the children coming into the U.S. from Central America as vermin and lice infested "illegals".   How is this possible?  When did the insensitivity to others and their plight happen?  Have we become so entitled that we don't see the ridiculousness in our complaints?

I know at one time, we were all innocent and trusting.  Sometime in this lifetime, people that I thought I knew became filled with hatred, bigotry and disgust towards others. And yet, many have animals that they profess to love. When did people lose their compassion for other human beings? Even if I find my own species to be difficult, pugilistic and destructive, I would not think of another person as vermin or not worthy of living.

We all have a story. And our lives are shaped by so many things. I can't begin to know what it feels like to wake up hungry each day, to not have enough water, to try to avoid being captured and killed, or bombed without warning. As I go about my day,  I will do my best to remember that I am one of the fortunate ones who hasn't lost my ability to help others or to care about what happens to people whose daily struggles are unimaginable. Thankfully, I still have my humanity.

“We're so self-important. So arrogant. Everybody's going to save something now. Save the trees, save the bees, save the whales, save the snails. And the supreme arrogance? Save the planet! Are these people kidding? Save the planet? We don't even know how to take care of ourselves; we haven't learned how to care for one another. We're gonna save the fuckin' planet? . . . And, by the way, there's nothing wrong with the planet in the first place. The planet is fine. The people are fucked! Compared with the people, the planet is doin' great. It's been here over four billion years . . . The planet isn't goin' anywhere, folks. We are! We're goin' away. Pack your shit, we're goin' away. And we won't leave much of a trace. Thank God for that. Nothing left. Maybe a little Styrofoam. The planet will be here, and we'll be gone. Another failed mutation; another closed-end biological mistake.” ― George Carlin

“Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” ― Dalai Lama XIV

A boundary on drunk dialing

The picnic was a fun time. We had about 15 people, most either in Al-Anon or AA, who ate, talked and strolled around the grounds.  The weather cooperated so there wasn't any late afternoon thunderstorms.  Everyone left saying that the food was excellent which makes us happy that no one goes away hungry.

It's so good to be able to have friends over and not worry that anyone is going to get drunk, stay until 1 AM, or throw up in the bathroom.  And to hear so much laughter and happy talk from a bunch of people who aren't drinking alcohol is remarkable, especially when the social scene in this town seems to mostly revolve around people drinking.

So yesterday, we chilled out.  We had plenty of left overs so there was no need to cook anything.  We did go out to check on the garden and picked enough blueberries to have them with meals this week. All was going really well until I got the call last night from my recently deceased cousin's wife.

She was drunk and slurring, ranting and screaming into the phone.  She had traveled back to their home to spend a couple of days. Somehow my cousin's death notice had gotten on the internet, and a friend had called her to say how sorry he was that R. had died.  This made her angry because she now fears that she won't be safe in the house once people know her husband is dead--this being a house that hasn't been lived in for about six years because they were both staying at her mother's house in another part of the state to be near the major medical hospital there.  She kept yelling over and over that "No one had the right to put that he had died in the paper or on the internet".  I explained that his death notice is part of the public record and couldn't be hidden from people.

N. was also telling me how she had done everything she could for my cousin and didn't think that she was responsible for his death.  There was more ranting about his mother and how her shadow person had sucked the life from him.  More tears and drunken mumbling.  This went on for about 40 minutes during which time I was  doing my best to get off the phone with her without being rude. Finally, I told her that I was going to hang up because she needed to get some rest.

I have now decided that I won't answer any more calls from her in the evening.  I am hoping that her drunken call was a one time occurrence.  I know that she used to drink and party quite a bit before she and my cousin married.  She would occasionally get drunk when I would visit them, but over the past 8 years, she has been sober and caring for him.  Now that he is gone, I hope that she doesn't start drinking with regularity.  It's not my problem, and I plan to keep it that way.  Thankfully, she is two states away.  No service is planned, so I won't be going up there to visit.

It's strange that I felt angry at myself for listening to her go on and on.  I wished that I had told her after about ten minutes that I had to go.  Next time, I won't answer. If I do talk to her and she is irrational, I will get off the phone.  I sat through one phone call and that's enough.  I am sorry that she has lost the love of her life.  I feel compassion and sadness about that.  But I am done now with the irrational blaming, anger, and drunken mumblings.  I cannot have a sensible conversation with a drunk.  And I don't have to.

Evidently, drunk dialing has become a problem phenomenon. The New York Times reports:
".......drunk dialing usually limits itself to times long after the close of business and beyond the daily commute. It is in those dark hours of late night and wee hours of early morn, when most people have retired their cellphones for overnight charging, that intoxicated revelers flip open their cellphones and dial into regret."

I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.—Kurt Vonnegut

'Nuff said.

In search of the beautiful

The last few days have been involved with going over plans for the kitchen renovation, looking at and discussing some of the things that we will be replacing and then ordering them.  We actually sat with both laptops within ten feet of each other and would look at various products and talk about whether we liked them or not.  LOL--it was an efficient way to do it but seems so businesslike.

Anyway, the great news is that we agreed on various things so now we are just waiting for the cabinets, the sinks, the faucets, the microwave and the stove to come in.  We are going to use recycled glass for the countertops which is so neat.  If you haven't seen this stuff, it is really beautiful and yet makes use of recycled bottles along with some shell.

We will be cooking on a camp stove for a while.  I'm sure that there will be a point when we are both on our last nerve about the mess and noise, but hopefully, it will all be okay and made into a contemporary beautiful space.

I spent much of the day on Tuesday with the young Mexican fellow whom I sponsor.  He is now on Step Four and is so willing.  We talked some during lunch about what kind of pay he gets for the jobs he does.  He has worked in a lot of agricultural settings where he picked tomatoes for $2.00 a basket.  His mother gets paid about $50 for 8 hours of cleaning.  His father makes around $8.00 an hour.  Thankfully, the family is about six months away from getting a visa which will lead to a green card and then to citizenship.  At least, that is what they are hoping as they work with one of the local attorneys who does this kind of pro bono work.  If that happens, he will be able to have a driver's license, can apply to college, and seek out scholarships.

I don't know whether we are going out on the boat this weekend.  It might be a good weekend to stay at the marina and enjoy the view there, go to an open AA meeting on Saturday evening, and join the marina group for a party on Labor Day.

I am feeling good but tired.  I've stayed up too late each night and last night was no exception.  I turned to the RNC coverage and saw Clint Eastwood give a bizarre "speech".  It was as if I was watching someone self-destruct.  I thought that he might be drunk, but apparently it was an off the cuff ramble.  Maybe it was meant to be funny, but all I felt was embarrassment for him and his rambling diatribe at a chair that was supposed to have the President seated in it. I would have been better off sleeping.

I am wondering where we are going these days as a society because we seem to be so polarized that I wonder can there really be any healing.  I hope so. But have to say that I am not happy with the political atmosphere.  I am concerned about our planet and what we are doing to it.  I am concerned about the interjection of religious views into government.  It's best that I don't go on here.   I am passionate about a lot of things and the environment is probably at the top of the list.  Enough said by me.  I'll leave the rest to George Carlin:

“Oh Beautiful for smoggy skies, insecticided grain,

For strip-mined mountain's majesty above the asphalt plain.

America, America, man sheds his waste on thee,

And hides the pines with billboard signs, from sea to oily sea.” 

Clearing skies

We have had some terrific storms here in the last few days.  The one on Saturday evening was spectacular, with lightening arcing across the sky.  Our boat and one other were anchored for the light show.  When the rain came, we hunkered below and after a few minutes were treated to a beautiful sunset.  These are the moments of clarity for me, a chance to refresh the mind and body.    I could see a change in my wife also, as she was relaxed and cheerier after the weekend.

I didn't realize that she had stopped taking medication several months ago.  Yesterday, she had an appointment with a new doctor who prescribed meds to help her sleep and for depression.  My thoughts, which I keep to myself, are that
she would probably feel better if she went thoroughly through the steps with a new sponsor and found a spiritual solution.  Many recovering alcoholics find that Al-Anon also helps when dealing with the effects of living with an alcoholic. I know that she had a hard time with her father when growing up.  I also know that she has to find her way to work through this.

One of the hardest things is to watch someone I love struggling with a spirit breaker like depression, alcoholism, or the myriad of problems that plague humans.  Time has taught me that there is nothing I can do to relieve their suffering except love them and take care of myself.  And I pray for those who are sick and suffering to move through the darkness within to light and peace.

Borders

I have finished the classroom part of the Captain's license for un-inspected passenger vessels.  This coming weekend I'll be in the classroom for the Master's license.  This license will be for either a 25, 50 or 100 ton vessel, depending on the amount of sea time that I have and the size of the vessels on which I've worked.  I think that I'll probably have enough time (360 days) on board to get the 50 ton license.

I have five exams to take.  The first two, Navigation General and Deck General, will be taken this Thursday.  I hope to take the next two, Chart Plotting and Rules of the Road, on July 6 and July 7.  After those are done, then I will take the exam for the Master's.  Rules of the Road is the subject that requires a lot of memorization. It is also considered to be the most difficult because out of 30 questions, only 3 may be missed.

I have spent my time studying. I've also found that, while my memory is good, it is not nearly what it used to be.  All the little day shapes and lights and sounds for each vessel type are starting to come together but not at the point where I feel as if I can just reel them off.  I study them for a few hours each day, while also studying for the other exams.

I am not having much fun with this since there is so much material.  It is like being back in college on finals week.  But I keep telling myself that in another couple of weeks, it will be over.  Maybe then, I won't be driving down the road and see two white lights in a row vertically and be thinking "Those are lights for a tug whose tow is < 200 meters".

I have mentally been bemoaning that I haven't been having much fun lately.  And just when I do this, I get a reminder that what I'm doing for these few weeks isn't bad, not dangerous, not going to hurt me.  That reminder came in the form of a share at my home group meeting last night. It was the one year anniversary of J.  I remember when she first came to Al-Anon last summer, a shy young woman who just graduated from high school.

Last night, she told her story of being born in Mexico and at age 9 crossing the U.S. border with her mother and two brothers.  They had been told by the "coyote" to bring enough food and water for a day's walk.  After getting what belongings they could carry, the group of people started walking towards the border.

The walk across the desert turned into three days and four nights during which all ran out of water and had very little food.  J. told of seeing dead bodies as they walked, of people on the journey who became sick and were left behind, of the heat and thirst the group endured.

The group eventually arrived at a house where people brought over by other "coyotes" were staying.  There were perhaps forty people in each room.  The "coyotes" carried guns and threatened to tie concrete blocks to the legs of the children and sink them in the river unless they were paid.  J's mother was waiting on money to be sent from her sister in Florida, but it didn't arrive right away.

After several days with threats from the "coyotes" and with violence among them as one group tried to take guns away from others, the police arrived.  J. and her family escaped from the house during the commotion and found their way to a 24 hour convenience store.  They had no money but thought that they would be safer there than in the woods.

During the late afternoon, a woman and a man drove up in a van.  The woman bought something in the store, came out, and kept looking at J. and her family who were a road worn and sad group.  She eventually came over and asked them if they were okay.  J's mother told her what had happened.  The woman went to the van, said something to her husband, and came back to invite the four of them to their house.  They stayed with this kind couple for three weeks until the money finally arrived from Florida.  The family then boarded a bus that took them to pick oranges in Florida.

After the orange harvest, they traveled to South Carolina to pick tomatoes.  J.'s father arrived here after his border crossing.  The family decided to stay in SC and were offered work on a farm where the mother cleaned, the father and sons worked in the fields, and J. took care of the animals.

Not long after their arrival in SC,  J. was raped by her step-brother who had come to visit.  She was raped later by a cousin as well.  She didn't tell anyone immediately because she had been told that she would be killed if she told.

By this time, she was enrolled in school, being tutored in English and making excellent grades.  The first rape happened on a Sunday.  Because she didn't want to miss school, she went as usual on Monday.  At school, some of her friends knew that she was troubled so she confided in them about the rape.  Soon the teachers knew and J. was taken by a counselor to a hospital where she was examined and evidence collected.

After the rape, she became despondent. She couldn't concentrate in school.  Her grades slipped.  She kept going to therapists but mostly they would ask, "How do you feel today?".  Finally, she was assigned to N. who really listened to her.  J. began to trust N. and talked to her not only about the rape but about how both her parents were alcoholics.  It was through N. that J. got to Al-Anon and the little meeting that I call "home".

J. is a remarkable young woman.  She graduated in the top five of her class in middle school and in the top ten of her Senior class in high school.  She has been verbally and emotionally abused by her father, yet she feels compassion for him.  Her full brother who is a drug addict stole all of her saved money from her.  She called the police who deported him.  She works whenever she can taking care of animals and babysitting.  Her hope is to become an American citizen, go to college and become a nurse.

I know that there are so many people like J.  She has come a long way since struggling across the desert.  She shared that she has found people to trust in Al-Anon, people that she can call, people who won't judge her.  And that she has found her own Higher Power who gives her comfort.

I heard just what I needed to hear from this young person at the time when I needed to hear it.  Amazing how that works.

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,

I felt the life sliding out of me,

a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.

I was seven, I lay in the car

watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern

past the glass.

My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

"How do you know if you are going to die?"

I begged my mother.

We had been traveling for days.

With strange confidence she answered,

"When you can no longer make a fist."

Years later I smile to think of that journey,

the borders we must cross separately,

stamped with our unanswerable woes.

I who did not die, who am still living,

still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,

clenching and opening one small hand.— Naomi Shihab Nye

Where are the men?

I had a question from someone a few weeks ago about why more men don't go to Al-Anon.  Generally, when I read that every alcoholic affects the lives of at least twenty people, then it would be reasonable to conclude: 1) that more people in general would benefit from Al-Anon and 2) not all the affected people out there are women.  In my meetings, there are a few other men who attend regularly.  Basically, though men are outnumbered by about ten to one.  I remember going to my first meeting, where there was not another man there.  I certainly did get attention which was a good reason to keep going back.  Most of us don't mind being outnumbered by women ten to one!

Seriously,  I do think that men's brains are wired differently.  Many men aren't really good at reaching out and asking for help.  I didn't know what to expect from the first meeting.  Yes, it felt uncomfortable but somehow it also felt good to be welcomed warmly and for people to take an interest in me.  The leader was quite the dominator of that meeting.  And perhaps at that first meeting, I needed a strong voice to tell me what to do.  I was at a point where I knew I had to do something, but none of the options seemed too good.

At that first meeting, I was given some phone numbers.  I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to call these women or not. It felt awkward.  I waited several days and did call each of them.  I was relieved to be taken directly to their voice mail, so I left a message telling them thanks for the welcome and that I would be back.

I kept going back to that meeting and others.  Eventually,  I found groups that offered friendship, understanding, and compassion.  I found people who didn't tell me what to do.  And I found a sponsor who was willing to work with me on the steps and traditions of the program.

There was something really powerful about being in a room full of people, no matter that most were women,  who understood what I was feeling because they had been there.  I knew that I wasn't alone and that I didn't have to deal with the crazy stuff in my head by myself.

There are times when I'm in meetings and a person will get going on a share that has so many details that my leg begins to shake with agitation.  Or there will be a lot of crying and anguish.  It doesn't matter whether these are men or women because I am learning to be patient, listen and have empathy for those who are having a tough time.

Sometimes the passing of Kleenex and the quilt raffles strike me as totally feminine.  And I don't want to leave out the hugging, the butterflies, and the literature that talks about "his" drinking---LOL.  But, what's wrong with a hug, butterflies are beautiful, and I know lots of "his's" who drink too.

At one of my meetings, there is a male college student who keeps coming back. He is a good fellow who has a sense of humor.  It's good to see that he isn't fazed by being in the midst of women, some of whom are old enough to be his great-grandmother.  He seems perfectly comfortable being there.

Sadly though, many people don't stay.  They will come for one or two meetings and leave.  I hope that they have found what they are looking for elsewhere because alcoholism is a problem that we can't fix, control or ignore.  Its affects fall on just as many men as women.  I know that I understand the tools of the program, but the affects go back so far in my life that left to my own devices, I could easily revert back to being the angry, self-pitying man I was before.

Now I can say that the women in the rooms have been awesome.  They have been yelled at, physically abused,  financially bereft, yet still manage to laugh and to give those hugs.  Their eyes have changed from being dull and full of tears to being bright and twinkling with humor.  I am grateful for their help and the hand of fellowship that was extended to me.  

Respite

It was a good day yesterday spent taking an old classic sailboat down the coast to a boat yard for surveying.  The potential buyer is coming in today.  Hopefully, the old boat will have a new owner and be restored back to her former glory.  She is a gem that was custom built in 1978 at the Cheoy Lee yard in Shanghai for a former Navy Captain and his wife.  She was sailed throughout the Pacific and then over to the East coast where she was owned by a gentleman who can no longer give her the TLC that she needs.  Yesterday, she moved like a dream, and we all enjoyed feeling the sturdiness of this boat as she was underway.

Last night, calls of confusion came in from my wife's mom.  She was saying that there had been a party and all her china was broken, she hadn't had anything to eat all day, and no one was home.  Jessica, the caregiver, called to tell us that Mom was having a bad day.  Some days she is perfectly lucid and others days she isn't.

An older friend told my wife that some caregivers abuse their patients, slamming them into wheelchairs and slapping them.  We know that Jessica and Brad are great people and treat Mom with love.  And we stop by often to see her.  I suppose that there are those who just reach the end of their rope with taking care of others, whether it's the elderly, the physically and mentally disabled,  or low bottom alcoholics.  We are supposed to have compassion, but the human psyche can only take so much stress.

Sadly, the number of people who have caregiver burnout is increasing as more caregivers take on the job without getting the help they need, or try to do more than they are able to--physically or financially.  Those who are burned out experience fatigue, stress, anxiety and depression which sometimes can result in wanting to hurt those for whom they are caring.

I think that living with active alcoholism has the effect of burnout.  All the positivity of a life can become filled with anger and frustration.  Feeling that there is no one to turn to, no one to share the secret with can create such isolation that life seems hardly worth living.  And the alcoholic is likely feeling the same way--isolated, ashamed, lonely, desperate, filled with loathing.  More than one person gets lost to the disease when there is no respite from it.

We all need breaks from whatever stressful activity we are doing.  I needed it when I was working so I would take vacation days.  We give the caregivers a break by either staying there ourselves or bringing in temporary help.  And I give myself a respite now and then for no particular reason by spending a shining day on the water on an old boat.  Just keeping things in balance. It really helps.

A brand new day

Over the last 24 hours, I have come to a much better place in my head--a place of forgiveness for me and for my father-in-law.  I talked to my sponsor,  I talked to my Higher Power, I read your comments and emails.  TAAAF over at Through an Al-Anon Filter wrote the following to me:

"I've been in that place of being appalled at my own "reptilian reaction" and it was excruciating; I'd really thought I was getting somewhere in my recovery.

I'm grateful for my first sponsor, who reiterated enough times for me to hear her, that I was only human, and the reason we have Step 10 is because we are going to continue to be wrong. No way around it. We may have only a few years in 12-Step, we may have 25, but we are going to screw up. Regularly. At times, spectacularly.

 

When we lose control, we may feel shame, or unworthy, embarrassed, humiliated, depressed. Perhaps we begin to wonder whether our perceived recovery is all a smoke screen we're hiding behind, and we haven't really changed at all - all perfectly normal responses to that rush of rage, and however we acted while in its grip.

 

You're a good man who loves his mate, and she was being threatened - that bypasses all the civilized veneers, and taps into the primal self.

 

Examine it, take your own inventory, make an amend however you choose to do so, and after discussion with your sponsor, then move on. You are not one scrap less of a wonderful loving and good-hearted man now, than you were the second before your response. You're the very same man, who has learned something new about himself."

 

Yes, I have learned something about myself, although I knew the survival and self-defense mechanisms were there already.  Another comment led me to read about elder rage (thank you, Lena, for suggesting the book--it has been ordered).  I have a much better understanding of the Jekyll and Hyde personality changes that we have been seeing.  Hopefully, more will be revealed from evaluations by geriatric psychiatrists and the internal medicine doctors.

I do have flashbacks of what happened.  I am forcing the images out of my head, but they aren't gone. And I am grieving the change in, and perhaps loss of,  a relationship that I have had for a long time.  But I am not blaming myself.  My wife feels better as well, after reading your comments and information about elder rage.  Neither of us has experience in dealing with a situation like this.  We are learning, have the legal system backing us, have talked with DSS, and know that we are doing the best that we can to protect both of the parents and keep them comfortable.

The best thing is that my mother-in-law was playing cards and listening to jazz yesterday.  She was happy and having a good day in her little world.  No one was yelling at her.  We each deserve peace in our lives no matter how it is achieved.

Sit close to the fire

Last night, we had a nice fire on the beach. The nights have been cool so it felt good to sit near warmth after a long walk on the beach. We sat for a few hours until after dark, watching the flames flicker and lick at the driftwood. Too soon, it was time to leave.

This morning, we were up early to make our way back to the marina. I could have stayed out another two weeks. It is one of the most peaceful feelings in the world, and it was over too soon.

We stopped by to see the parents on the way home. My father-in-law was being ugly again. My wife was talking to him and he exploded, telling her to get out of the house, and saying that he didn't need anyone helping him. He said so many ugly things to her. They were screaming at each other.

Now, C. feels bad for losing it with her dad. I was angry but stayed out of it. I could not see how further angry words would help. What I want to do is give him a wide berth and let him think about what he has done. He is effectively driving everyone away. His wife is afraid of him. And now his daughter wants nothing to do with him.

I think it's best to wait, see what happens, and adopt an attitude of compassion. He is sick. Perhaps the doctor will prescribe something that will take the edge off his anger.  For now, I am not going to stand too close to his fire.

PS: Pop took the keys, drove off in the car, saying that he was going to "ride into the sunset".  We alerted the police because no one knew where he was.  He eventually came home around 6 PM.  The police went to the door, but he wouldn't let them in.  

He doesn't have dementia--his mind is sharp and his memory is excellent.  There is no cerebral event.  Nothing remarkable has happened except an explosion of anger.  He has a terrible disposition and has had one for most of his life according to his siblings and C.  I believe that things are not going the way that he likes because he is getting old. And he isn't getting old in a gentle way.  Perhaps this is simply too much to write about.  But it is what it is.  

What's happening today

Well, it's Friday, and the political craziness continues in this old town where the Civil War began.  It's heating up for the Republican Primary tomorrow.  More self-destruction happened last night during the debate.  It's like a bunch of piranhas feeding on each other.  Eventually, there are just pieces and parts left.

I'm going to go out on the boat for about four days.  The temperature is going to be great--warm during the day with cool nights.  My spirit is needing a respite from politics and family.  I am needing a brief geographic cure, just to put some things on the back burner.

One of the things that has seared me in the last couple of days was overhearing my father-in-law say that I had not done much for them.  The scenario was that I stopped by to check on them.  My mother-in-law said to Pop that it was nice that I had stopped by.  His reply was: "What has he ever done for us?".  That one cut deeply.

I don't need to defend myself against the comment.  I know what I have done.  And I know that he is old and angry.  Nonetheless, such an appraisal is one that makes me realize that we either know each other too well or not at all.  That seems to be the way with many human relationships.  It's a pity, really.

So I'll get away from it all for a few days.  I'm going to sear my mind with sunny days, sparkling water,  beach sand, and fair winds.

Try to understand men. If you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and almost always leads to love. ~John Steinbeck 

Our own network

The birthday law lasted through the movie and lunch.  The "Tinker" movie was full of twists and turns, flashbacks, and complications.  It was one that required attention and thinking to get what was happening.  Maybe I wasn't in the mood for thinking so hard, because I preferred the "Dragon Tattoo" movie which was straightforward and yet action packed.  We enjoyed the time together, eating popcorn, and later having fish tacos at a restaurant near the theater.

Bliss was short-lived though. When we got home, there were 11 calls from the caregivers and my wife's parents. No messages though.  Uh-Oh.......hard not to have the mind go to a bad place, wondering who is now in the hospital or worse circumstances.

The situation was that Pop was angry with the caregivers, telling Jessica and Brad that they did nothing, were not of any use to him.  It hurt their feelings a lot because they are good people who work hard at keeping the parents comfortable, well fed, entertained, and the house clean.  My wife, C.,  went to have a talk with her dad.  She explained that without the caregivers, they cannot stay in their home.   C. said that he sat there and seethed, saying only disparaging things.

Quality of life for the parents will not be good should he drive these good people away.  So this morning, I called to talk with Jessica.  She told me that her own father, who used to be her self-described hero,  is an alcoholic, that her mother has been in Al-Anon for over a year, and that she can see that Pop is a dry drunk.  So we had a good conversation about taking care of ourselves around the alcoholic.  I shared my experience with my dad.  And related that I went to Al-Anon (I did not break my wife's anonymity) because of growing up with a father who drank.  I invited her to attend one of the meetings that I go to which is close by the parent's home.

I think that this was another moment in which there is a reason that we have been put together.  We are now all on the same page with our truths.  Jessica and I both love alcoholics.   Brad works at the homeless shelter and deals with all stages of alcoholism.  My wife is alcoholic and probably her dad is also.  C's. mom has lived with a restless, irritable, and discontent man for her entire marriage. We are all connected by the disease.  Together, we will form our own network to listen to each other, share our feelings, and work through the difficulties.  Things happen for a reason. People come together for a reason.  Nothing is coincidence.