10. Garbage Cans and Recycling Bins

Gerry said, “We fill garbage cans in my family.  My mother made a mistake and almost killed a patient. Had a panic attack and went on Xanax.  Now she blames all her problems on that one mistake. It’s her garbage can where she dumps all responsibility for her life.  Gramps gave my uncle the family business. That’s my dad’s garbage can.  He hates his job, drinks way too much, chain smokes, and says it’s all because his father cut him out of the business.”

“What about your sister?” I asked.

“My sister has a recycling bin. Growing up with two addicts made it hard for her to rely on anybody but herself.  She recycled that distrust into self-reliance. It’s not always a good thing, but she gets stuff done. She shared my dad’s anger with Gramps and my dad’s brother.  My sister confronted my uncle, and found out Gramps had good reason to keep my dad away from the business. Now my uncle’s more of a father to her than my dad is. She took the garbage that was her resentment and recycled it into that relationship.  I want to learn to do that.”

“What is your family’s business?” I asked out of curiosity.

He laughed. “My uncle runs a flying school and charter airline.  They cut out my dad because drunks make poor flight instructors.”

Today I’ll try to recycle as much as I can.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

9. Hit a Dear, Get Lost, Run out of Gas

“This is my third time trying to get clean,” Gerry said.  “The first two times I thought recovery people were a little too dramatic, saying addiction ended in ‘jails, institutions, or death.’  It made me think I wasn’t that bad.”

“What changed?” I asked.

“Watched my parents’ addictions. Started to think of addiction as a bad road trip. You hit a dear, get lost, or run out of gas.  My dad was sober for about two weeks after he punched my mother. She couldn’t have been dearer to him and he broke her nose. Never did it again, still feels guilty about it, but he hit a dear.

“I get it,” I said, “A D-E-A-R dear.”

He nodded. “My mother was a nurse who got addicted to Xanax.  Got on disability somehow and never worked again. She got lost. Always looking for the next prescription rather than finding her way back to work.  My parents spend their nights watching TV.  He’s drunk and she’s a zombie.  They’ve run out of gas. 

I said, “I know someone who’s addicted to porn.  He lost his girlfriend when she saw he liked the movies more than being with her. She felt betrayed, and it felt like a punch to the gut. He hit a dear.  She dumped him, so he bought himself a top-of-the-line computer. He watches porn all night, gets lost in it.  When he gets fired because he can’t keep his eyes open at work, I think he’ll stay home all day.  He’ll be out of gas, and probably move into his Dad’s basement.”

Gerry said, “I’ve seen so many people hit a dear and not realize they're on the road to addiction.”

Today I’ll beware of signs I’ve hit a dear, gotten lost, or run out of gas.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

8. My Life is Buffering

After group, I asked Gerry how he ended up in rehab.  He said, “My life was buffering.  The page I was on looked OK, but the wheel icon up in the corner was spinning.  I worked, lived at home, smoked and drank my paycheck.  My sister kept pointing out how my life was going nowhere.   So, I started taking my buddy’s Adderall. Not much, just enough to get me moving, maybe jolt me onto a new page in my life.  Before long I was addicted.”

“There’s better ways to deal with that buffering feeling,” I said.

He laughed.  “Do they pay you to state the obvious?”

“Actually, sometimes they do,” I said.

If today I feel like my life is buffering, I will find a good way change it.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

7. I Was Wrong

A phone call jolted me.  The caller wanted to confirm everything was ready for a training the following month.  I didn’t remember scheduling the training, and there was nothing in my appointment book.  I went back through my emails and found one discussing the date for the training.

Almost as a reflex, I said, “Stupid laptop!”  The laptop hadn’t forgotten about the training, I had.  In my mind I could hear my first sponsor quoting the tenth step, “…and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.” 

“If I don’t admit it to myself,” I said out loud, “I’ll be more likely to think I don’t make these scheduling mistakes.  More likely to make the same mistake again.  Fine.  It was my fault, and I need to figure out how I’m gonna keep this from happening again.”

Today I will admit to myself when I’m wrong.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

6. Complaint Department

The next email was from a friend asking me to take the ‘no complaining challenge.’ All I had to do was see how long I could go without complaining.  I texted back: “Challenge accepted!  And quit sending me random stuff like this.  It’s annoying!”  Oh…

Today I will complain less.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

5. Narcancelled

When I finally got to my office I got an email about Narcan from a colleague.  The article was well-written, but the comments made me cringe.

One post asked why we wasted tax dollars keeping addicts alive.  Most of the comments said people who choose to endanger their lives with drugs should get no further health care.

“Why stop with addicts?” I said to my laptop.  “We could save a lot of money by refusing healthcare to people who make any life-threatening choices.  Bad diets lead to heart disease, the number one killer in the US.  If people continue to eat salty, fatty, sugary foods, why waste taxpayer dollars, not to mention insurance money, on them?  What about people who don’t exercise three times a week?  Or allow stress to weaken their hearts and their immune systems?”

I went on ranting to my computer, “Cancer is another big killer we spend taxpayer money on.   Why should we spend money treating folks who drink too much alcohol, get sunburned, or smoke? More people die in traffic accidents than overdose.  Anybody at fault in a traffic accident should lose his health insurance.” 

I said to my laptop, “Eliminate everybody who makes poor choices, and that leaves three vegetarian yoga instructors we’d have to provide healthcare for.   Only covering their costs will save the system billions.” 

Today I will advocate for whatever keeps people alive long enough to make better choices.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

4.  Wanted

Gerry waited for me to test his sample.  He was negative for the fifteen different drugs. 

“Completely clean,” I said.

“Good to know,” he said.

“You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“I am, but it’s just one day.  I still want to drink. I want to do half the drugs you test for.”

I laughed. “Gerry, wanting and doing are two different things.  I’ve been sober twenty-eight years and every now and then I want a beer. I know easy-going folks who want to choke a co-worker. One of the most honest, ethical, people I know wants to rob a bank.  He can tell you how he’d do it.  If wanting and doing were the same thing, civilization would have ended long ago. Now if you told me you a had compulsion, or felt overwhelmed by a craving…”

Today I won’t be too concerned by my wants.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

3. Is It What It Is?

Half an hour later I stood next to Gerry in the men’s bathroom. I leaned against the wall with one hand, a pen grasped in the other.  He held a specimen cup in his left hand.

“You know what I like about you?” he asked as I turned on the water in the sink.

“Not sure this is the moment I want you to share that information with me,” I said.

“That’s what I like about you.  You don’t pretend what is isn’t.  This is awkward, and you might joke about it, but you don’t pretend watching me not pee is normal.  In my family we pretend my drunk dad isn’t.  We pretend my addicted mom only takes what’s prescribed.  When I was seventeen I was dating the forty year old alcoholic who lived across the cul de sac.  Everyone but my older sister pretended that was normal.  We called her crazy because she said our family was a mess.”

He finally filled half the cup, and I said, “Here’s some good news. If this is dirty The Other Ken won’t pretend it’s clean.”

“That’s what I need,” Gerry said. “People who deal in what is.”

Today I won’t pretend what is isn’t.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

2.     Nothing Personal

I passed the copier-printer-fax machine-label maker-cheese grater on my way to my office.  An error light blinked on the hateful, high strung, high maintenance “business productivity center.”   (“Business”   as in, “I’m taking the dog outside to do her ‘business.’”) This particular productivity center produced more jams than Smuckers.  Overnight it had chewed up ten booklets I needed in an hour.  Paper was lodged in every gear, roller, spring, and lever. 

I fought the urge to kick the toner out of it.  Instead, I got myself a cup of coffee from the kitchen.  I came back to the machine.  The urge returned.

I counted to ten and tried to remember what a friend had told me.  He had rescued a car from a neighbor’s back yard.  After working on the engine for months, he had sanded, primed, and painted it. To repay his kindness, the car would quit running the moment he lost cell phone coverage or drove through a rough neighborhood. 

“You gotta be careful what you take personally,” my friend had said. “Otherwise you’ll do something stupid out of frustration. Plenty of times I’ve wanted to push the car into the Ohio River, but I didn’t.  The car’s not trying to frustrate me, it’s nothing personal.”

Today I’ll be careful about what I take personally.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

Needles not for Knitting

1.       Just Happy To Be Alive

I left my home with loved ones safely sleeping in their beds.  A feeling of contentment washed over me.  I should have stayed and enjoyed the moment.

A car flew past me as I pulled out of my driveway, mistaking my suburban lane for the Autobahn.  At the four-way stop, I let the guy next to me go first. A tan SUV arrived a moment later, rolled through the stop, almost hitting me, clearly not understanding the whole ‘take your turn’ concept. 

Pennsylvania ranks third nationally for deer v. car collisions.  Someone who might not have known that rode my bumper as I drove slowly through a wooded section of my route.  I almost wished a deer would jump out in front of me.  Given the choice of hitting the deer or slamming on my brakes, I may have hit the brakes.  Both our cars might be totaled, but the deer would be safe, and I’d be able to ask the tailgator if he was close enough now.

The tailgator roared past me as we turned onto the divided highway. He almost hit a dump truck.  The truck stood on his breaks and hit his horn.  Tailgator ran a red light and was gone.   I turned into the industrial park, relieved to arrive intact.

Today I will be grateful when I arrive safely.

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

101. Heart Dancing

A few days later, I ran into Margaret’s husband Joel in a grocery story.  He told me about Howard’s wedding.   “Margaret danced all night.  No cane, no wincing, no booze and painkillers.”  A wicked smile crossed his face.  “She got to dancing with a group of younger gals.”  He seemed to search for a word.  “Dancing more, suggestive, than she might have at a Navy ball. Howard’s dipstick brother got high, and cut himself a piece of wedding cake before dinner was served.  Their mother, who’s got to be 80, dumped coffee in his brother’s lap.”

“You mean spilled it?” I asked.

“No sir.  She walked over to him, steaming cup in hand, looked him right in the eye, and poured it onto his crotch.  Everybody but the dipstick laughed their butts off.  Roy brought RuhRoh as his date.  Kinda sad that he and his wife couldn’t make it work, but they’re better friends than they were before he got sober.

“There was a dog at a wedding reception?”

“Ruhroh wore a bow tie. People scratched his ears and rubbed his belly all afternoon.  The caterer made him a special plate. For a dog from death row, his life has really turned around.”  He smiled and added, “The main thing is Margaret danced without pain, Ken.  Can’t remember anything that made me happier. My heart danced with her.”

Today I will be grateful for anything or anyone who makes my heart dance.

Life on Life's Terms III (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Life on Life's Terms III is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

100. Doing What I can

When Street Sign died, I visited the animal shelter by his house to make a donation.  The vet told me story after story about Street Sign.

Because of his health problems, Street Sign couldn’t walk the dogs.  He’d sit in a small room, in a comfortable chair, an older dog or cat resting its head in his lap, sometimes for hours. 

“He’d show up at noon and stay until we closed,” the vet said.  “We’d hear him telling the animals about his life, how much he had loved both his wives, how he loved his kids. It was sweet, the way he talked to the animals like they were old friends.   He donated money.  We tried to give him an award once, but he refused.  Whenever I thanked him, he’d shrug and say ‘I do what I can.’”  She thought for a moment. “That sums him up.  He wasn’t waiting to make some grand gesture.  He  couldn’t do as much as he wanted to, so he did what he could. I wish everybody did.”

Today I’ll do what I can.

Life on Life's Terms III (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Life on Life's Terms III is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

99. An Ode to the Grilled Cheese Sandwich

The menu read Four cheeses on brioche bread served with imported sea salt brine pickles.  ‘That’s like putting a fancy spoiler on a Ford Focus, I thought.  They don’t get grilled cheese.  Fancy contradicts the raison d'etre of the sandwich and the car: basic food, basic transportation  And the thought of a goat-camembert-gouda-brie sandwich leads to using pretentious phrases like ‘raison d'etre’ instead of ‘main purpose.’

Chefs don’t make grilled cheese sandwiches, except at home, when everyone’s asleep. Cooks make grilled cheese.  Older sisters make grilled cheese, and because they do, you forgive them for hogging the bathroom, getting the biggest bedroom, and picking a chick flick for family movie night. You may even be grateful for them.

Fathers make grilled cheese, flipping it onto your plate from three feet above your head and smiling as you dodge the molten cheese droplets flying off the edges. You and your siblings laugh as your mother pretends to be annoyed.  Cheese can bind a family together.

Mothers make grilled cheese better than anyone.  They just do.

If you’ve grown up on grilled cheese, you smile when make it, savoring the memories.

Good cooks serve grilled cheese right from the pan.  They never makea stack of sandwiches, sitting on a plate while the cheese congeals.  The cook makes them two or three at a time, asking ‘can you eat another?’  A real grilled cheese cook eats last. That’s how you know they love you.

Tomatoes? Yes but only late in the summer when they come from somebody’s garden, in a shopping bag left on your porch next to another one containing 40 lbs. of zucchini.  (The vegetables remind you there’s still good neighbors.)  In the winter, grilled cheese is eaten with tomato soup, preferably Campbell’s.  

Ham?  Sliced ham and cheese is an entirely different meal.  If you’re going to use chipped ham, better to make a frizzle burger - another sandwich to be grateful for.

Why the long post? Because today I will  take time to dwell on simple pleasures.

Life on Life's Terms III (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Life on Life's Terms III is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

98. On Admiration

“So,” I joked, “You went with ‘Felicia’ in honor of Felix, instead of ‘Kenni’ in honor of The Other Ken and me.”

A sound that seemed half laugh, half sigh escaped her.  She said, “Felix stole pills. He broke Margaret’s heart.  Hell, he broke my heart, but he had a lot of good qualities.  Had he survived the OD, I still would have named her Felicia.  I just wouldn’t let him near her until he had some clean time.  A lot of clean time.”

“I hear you,” I said. “You can admire the quality if not the person.”

“I did admire him.   Admired his kindness.  Loved his enthusiasm.  Loved his sense of humor.  Admired his intelligence.    I stopped admiring him when I realized he always put himself first.  Great qualities, but a selfish person."

Today I will look for qualities I admire, even in people I don’t.

Life on Life's Terms III (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Life on Life's Terms III is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

97. Grown-Ups

Several months later Anne stopped by my office.  She’d delivered a beautiful baby girl she’d named Felicia.

She said, “I want to get together with my baby’s father and his wife.  They want to too. Could you recommend a family therapist?   A neutral person to help the three of us stay on track?  Felicia’s interests come first, but we’re people, you know?  He’s mad at her, she’s mad at him, I’m mad at him, she’s mad at me.  We want someone to help us get past that and do what’s right.”

To my surprise, I choked up a little.  Working in human services over the years, I had met a lot of people who would do anything to help their children.  Sadly, I had seen so many people put their drug, the bottle, revenge, control, and their own lifestyle ahead of the interests of their kids.  It was gratifying to see the adults in Felicia’s life were trying to act like adults.

“I’ll get some names for you,” I said.

Today I will be grateful for adults who act like adults.

Life on Life's Terms III (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Life on Life's Terms III is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S

96.  I Don’t Know
When I got home, Brat Boy was lying on the couch, reading his History book.  He asked me about the meeting.

I said, “There’s a guy who only comes to meetings when he’s in legal trouble.  You can’t tell him anything because he’s convinced he knows everything. He doesn’t know he’s an alcoholic, even after all his DUIs, public drunkenness charges, bar fights, and God knows what else.  You can’t help him because he doesn’t know how much he doesn’t know.”

“Well if anyone would know about not knowing, it would be you, Dad.”

I laughed. “Kid, knowing how much I don’t know motivates me to learn. It’s a blessing.”

Today I will be grateful for knowing what I don’t know.

Life on Life's Terms III (c) 2016 by Ken Montrose

Life on Life's Terms III is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: http://www.amazon.comHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"/Ken-MonHYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S"trose/e/B001K8MG0S