52. Detaching with Love

“By the way,” Gerry said, “my mother overdosed on Xanax7. They took her to the ER.”

“You don’t seem too upset about it,” I said, wondering what the rest of the story might be.

“I’m sadly relieved.   She ate a few too many Xanny bars and called 911. Dad called me from the ER to say she was dying and I should get down there.  When I got to the hospital, she was sitting up in bed.  Said if I wasn’t coming home she would sign herself into the Psych unit. I said if not the Psych unit, a rehab.  She thought I was being a smartass, but I really meant it. Love her, want her to get better, but can’t get caught up in the drama.  My sister says we have to ‘detach with love’ from mom, and I finally know what she means.”  

Today I will accept there are times I need to detach with love.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

51. Celebrations

After family group, Gerry stopped in my office.  “At the meeting last night they were giving out coins for sobriety anniversaries,” he said. “Everybody was clapping, except these two really old guys sitting up front. The one looked annoyed, and the other just shook his head.”

I said, “When I first got sober there were a few old-timers who believed you should never celebrate clean time. Getting too happy about an anniversary could give you a big ego, make you lose focus, maybe relapse.  There are still a few people around who think that way.”

“What do you think?”

“I think life is too short to pass up a chance to celebrate.  When you reach a plateau, it’s a good idea to look around and appreciate how far you’ve come.  Celebrations motivate me to climb the next peak.  When life is hard, and I feel like I’m trudging through a swamp,  the memory of the celebrations remind me of better times ahead.”

Today I will find something to celebrate.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

50. The Wisdom of Demolition

Gerry’s grandfather and Uncle Harold came to the next family day.  While Gerry’s grandfather talked to The Other Ken, I had coffee with Harold.  I said his father seemed to be a wise man.  

Harold said, “You know how they bulldoze old houses and haul the debris away to landfills?   When my grandmother died, we took the house apart. We sold the copper pipes and wire.  My dad, who was ex-military made a deal with the hippies living up the hill.  This was right after Vietnam, and I think they were shocked he reached out to them. We pulled out the lathe and horsehair plaster. They ran it through a wood chipper and added it to their flower beds. The mulch made their plants really bloom. We pulled the nails out of the studs and joists, and saved the ones that weren’t bent.  A guy bought the recycled lumber.

“I thought it was the dumbest thing ever.  My dad paid us more than we made selling the copper and wood.  It was dirty, nasty work.”

“Why did he do that?” I asked.

“He was teaching us a bunch of lessons.  You can learn from your past, even as you move on. Those old timbers were dirty and full of nails, but they were still strong. He said they showed how life might age us without weakening the things that hold us up, like character.  Giving the plaster to the neighbors? Look for common ground with people you don’t always agree with.  Pulling the nails was the biggest pain in the butt.  Saving the good ones was supposed to remind us to value the things that hold us together. He’s wise because he sees the wisdom in everyday life.”

Today I will look for wisdom in everyday life.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

49. Putting Off Failing

That night I was sitting next to Brat Boy on the couch, watching a movie, and staring at my laptop.  I cursed under my breath. Brat Boy looked at my computer to see why I swore.

I said, “That row of numbers is the total sales of my books in the last thirty days.”

“For a second I thought it might be your points per game when you could still play basketball,” he said, highly amused at his own joke.  I elbowed him in the ribs.  He laughed some more, then added, “If you’re unhappy ‘cause you don’t sell a lot of these books, why don’t you quit writing them?”

“Two reasons. First, there’s an old saying, ‘you haven’t failed until you quit.’ Second, I wrote my masters thesis on procrastination.  I know all about procrastination. I’m putting off failing.  Tomorrow I may quit, but not today.”

Today I will put off failing.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

48. No

The phone was ringing when I got back to my office. Hank wanted to talk to Gerry.  I called Gerry into my office and put him on the phone. Stepping out of my office, I shut the door behind me.

When I went back to my office, Gerry was staring at the phone, his hand gripping the armrests of his chair. “This is the third time he’s told me not to work for the airline,” Gerry said.  “He demanded I move back home. How many times do I have to say no, I’m done doing things his way?”

“So if your buddy who’s a dealer keeps calling you, what are you supposed to do?” I asked. “Do you keep taking his calls, hoping you’ll win every argument with him? Convincing him again you’re serious about staying clean? Or do you block his number, maybe change yours?  You gotta stop trying to win arguments with your dad.”

“Ken, with all his faults, he’s still my dad.  I have to take his calls.”

“You don’t. I know that sounds cold.  Family is important.  But sometimes you have to stop answering people, even if they’re family.”

Today, if someone won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, I’ll quitting answering them.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

47. Who Do You Think You’re Fooling?

After Gerry went to group, I walked back to the staff kitchen to get coffee, passing the candy dish in the assessor’s office.  I had cut back on sweets a week earlier.  Typically the candy dish was full at the start of the day, empty by the end. I’d always assumed everyone ate about the same amount of candy.  Someone had filled the dish on Monday.  It was Thursday and the dish was still a third full.

At first I thought I had been eating more candy than I realized.  Then it hit me – someone must be filling the dish part way just to mess with me.  All those empty candy wrappers that used to cover the bottom of my garbage can at the end of the day? That same someone probably put them there.  They weren’t fooling me.

Today I won’t underestimate my ability to fool myself.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

46. Spare Any Change?

Gerry laughed and shook his head.  Repeating himself, he said, “’The warmth of a new day.’ Now you got me talking in bumper stickers.  Well I burned the bridge, I don’t feel so warm right now, and I gotta start over.”

I said, “It’s good you burned the bridge, but be careful not to just duplicate your old life somewhere new.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that.  Living at my uncle’s won’t be anything like living with my parents.”

“You’ll be the same, unless you make some changes.  Maybe big changes, maybe small changes, but changes.”

He thought about it, and said, “You could be right. My parents molded me.  I’ve been this way a long time.  And here’s what worries me.  I don’t know if I can change. In school, I’d have these nasty break-ups with girlfriends, but then I’d go after a new girl just like the old one. By senior year I knew exactly what I was doing, but I’d do it any way.  I couldn’t stop myself. Even though the breakups were my fault I was always complaining about the girls being all alike.”  

“I’m convinced people underestimate their ability to change. I don’t know you well enough to be certain, but I’m guessing you could’ve stopped yourself.  Blaming the girls was just easier.  So now you’ve stopped taking the easy way out. You’ve stopped getting high and you’ve moved.  Two big changes.  Make some smaller changes instead of excuses and your whole life will change for the better.”

Today I’ll make at least one small change instead of one large excuse.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

45. Burning the Right Bridge

The next morning Gerry stopped by my office.  “Things moved faster than I expected,” he said.  “I moved in with my sister.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Ken, it was predictable, the way things played out, but not how I felt in the end. My dad got drunk. Told me to choose between him and my grandfather.  I said I loved him, wanted to stay home, but had to take Grandpa’s job offer.  We all cried.  Then he got really angry and started throwing my stuff down the stairs. My mom took a couple of pills, saying I made her do it.  I could almost see the heat of their anger coming off them.”

“Then,” Gerry added, “I saw. I love them, but I finally saw them for the little kids they are.  And that’s when it got weird.” He struggled for words.  “I was relieved, and sad for them, but happy for myself.”

“Like you were warmed by the fire of a burning bridge,” I said.   

He nodded his head and said, “I’m sad, but I burned the right bridge and I feel the warmth of a new day.”

Today I’ll remember burning the right bridge can produce an angry heat, but also light and warmth.

44. iHave eNough

After the training I went to my office to log out. An electronics ad popped up on my laptop, selling new and refurbished iPads, iPods, iPhones, iTunes, iMacs, and iBooks.  Another ad for eBooks and eReaders, and other gadgets I could buy on eBay, followed.  According to the ads, I needed the next, bigger, better, of everything. I picked up my phone, a device a little too smart for me, and texted “Love you guys” to my wife and kids.   

“Works just fine,” I said to my ancient laptop. “I have all I need.”

Today I’m grateful, iHave eNough.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

43. Helping First Responders

That night I presented at a conference on suicide.  The presenter before me showed a brief video on what first responders face in a typical day.  He tied the alarming images to the rise in suicides among police, fire, and ambulance services.  Three people he knew personally had killed themselves, one in the parking lot of the firehouse.

I sat in the audience wondering what people could do to help.  I started a list. Certainly I could donate a little more when the local ambulance service asked.  Scenes of mayhem from the video suggested other ideas.

Don’t drink and drive.  Clean out the medicine cabinet.  Know what the kids are doing and who they’re with. Lock up guns. Don’t give into road rage. Agree to disagree, walk away, don’t use weapons to settle arguments. Set a good example. Don’t fund the violence of the drug trade. Help someone stay clean.  Advocate for services for the mentally ill.  The list went on.

Today I will not contribute to the mayhem.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

42. Surgery

“What happens next?” I asked Gerry.

He said, “Dad sells his share of the business, cuts off all contact with my uncles and grandparents. The business goes on as before, and my dad gets more drunk and bitter.  He’ll make me choose between him and the rest of the family.  I’ll probably end up living with one of my uncles until I go to college.  Sucks.”

“What does your sister say about the situation?” I asked.

“She said it’s hard cutting people out of your life, but sometimes you have to.  She also said I shouldn’t mistake surgery for an autopsy.  This is going to hurt, but I’ll survive and probably be better for it. It’ll only feel like death for a while.”

“Smart woman, your sister,” I said.

Today I won’t confuse a surgery with an autopsy.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

41. Big Cats

Gerry was in Ms. Rella’s office, signing in.  We talked about his grandfather and working at the airline.  Gerry took the job. Hank, Gerry’s father, hit the roof.  He told Gerry’s uncles the older man was senile, drinking, and taking pain pills for his hip.  None of it was true.  Hank blasted his family on Facebook, claiming he’d been forced out of the company because his brothers were jealous of his piloting skills. 

“You know my grandfather hardly reacted at all.” Gerry said. “I admire how he ignores my mom and dad’s drama.  He hates gossip.  He makes his case, he does what he thinks best, and he ignores everything petty.”

I said, “He’s the big cat.”

Ms. Rella said, “And the big cat never needs to be catty.”

Today I will remember the big cat is rarely catty.

               

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

40. Share the Scare

On Monday the group seemed a little somber.  I asked The Other Ken about it.

“Three people relapsed over the weekend,” The Other Ken answered.  “One was revived with Narcan. One almost died of alcohol poisoning, and the other ate a couple of Vikes and had a glass of wine.  The good thing to come out of this was a few others didn’t think any of them would ever relapse.  As a group, they were sure they had it all figured out.  Your boy Gerry said he was glad he got to share the scare without picking up a drink himself.  I think they got that.  Because three of them relapsed, the other nine were jolted into looking at themselves.”

I said, “It’s like when someone I know has a heart attack.  It scares me into going to the gym and deciding if I really need a basket of cheese fries.  I never thought about that way, but I guess I should be grateful when I only share the scare.”

Today I’ll be grateful if I only share the scare.

               

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

39. Smiley Cookies, STDs, & Divorce Lawyers

When I got home Marti texted me. Her ex’s second wife had texted Marti to say he caught his third wife in bed with another man.  Marti sent her ex a smiley face cookie, a pamphlet on sexually transmitted diseases, and the business card of her divorce lawyer.

I showed my wife the text. “Marti kills me,” I said, laughing.

My wife said, “Marti’s smart. She’s putting a little more distance between them before her ex even approaches her.  And the STD pamphlet was a nice touch.”

“You think he’d contact her now, after all he did to her?”

“He’s so arrogant, he’d think he was doing her a favor, giving her a second chance.  She walked away, which was smart, and she kept on walking, which was smarter still.”

Today I will see if I can put a little more distance between me and toxic people.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

38.  Nothing to Say

That night I went to the gym.  The man on the stationary bike to my left silently pedaled his bike.  I did the same.  I could hear the gentleman to my right telling the woman next to him about his trip to a local golf course to collect golf balls.  In painful detail he described where he found them, how he retrieved them, how he washed them in bleach, and the sage advice he gave his buddies on finding more golf balls.  Apparently the woman knew the man and asked about his son.  The man said the son was doing fine and had been part of the great golf ball roundup.  He of course had found more balls than his son. 

The more I listened, the more convinced I became the great golf ball collector knew he had nothing to say, but couldn’t stand saying nothing. 

Today if I have nothing to say, I’ll say nothing.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

37. Maintain, Restore, Let Go

It was family day, and Gerry’s grandfather and uncle came for the group.  I introduced myself to them. 

Gerry’s grandfather motioned for me to look out the group room window.  He pointed to a Chevy pick-up that might have been made in the ‘70’s.

“It’s a work truck,” Gerry’s grandfather said. “There’s no rust on it.  Four hundred fifty thousand on the odometer.  I’ve worked at the same job for forty-five years, been married to the same woman for fifty.  Vehicles, careers, and marriages.  I always thought it was easier to maintain them than to replace them.”

There was a long pause.  The older man seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

“If Gerry works for me, it will split our family apart.  The only thing holding us together now is the check Gerry’s father gets as part owner of the business.”

“Wait,” I said, “Gerry’s dad is OK getting a check from the family airline, but he’s not OK with Gerry earning a paycheck there?”

“It’s complicated. Gerry’s dad, Hank, believes he’s got us over a barrel.  He thinks we send him the check because we’re afraid he’ll sell his share. We send him the check because we don’t want to cut ties with him.  His brothers are always hoping he’ll get sober so we can bring him back into the business.  I think it may be time to hire Gerry and let Hank do what he will.”   

I wasn’t sure if I saw more sadness or determination in the old man’s face.

Today I will accept maintaining is easier than restoring, but sometimes I can’t do either.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

36. Jail Dates

I went back to my desk to read my email.  The subject line of the first one read “Jail Dates.” I almost deleted the message, thinking it was spam from the strangest matchmaking site ever. “Hope I’m never that lonely,” I said to my laptop.

Just before I trashed the message, I saw it was from Jody, our jail liaison.  The folks at the county jail had picked two days for me to provide training to their staff. “Glad I read the whole message.” I wondered how many other messages, emails and other kinds, I had discarded without fully understanding them.

Today I’ll make sure I understand the message before discarding it.

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

Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

An excerpt from Home Groupies, free this week at: https://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

Behind the levee 

While the rest of us sat around the table, Chanel slept in Sue’s lap on a couch in the back of the church basement.  In the florescent light, Sue’s bony face was a sickly gray.  She reminded me of the chalk we had used in elementary school.  The writing end was always a bright white, but the rest was inevitably discolored from sweaty fingers clutching it as their owner stared at the blackboard, praying the answer would appear if he squeezed the chalk hard enough.

She wore a silk head scarf Victoria had given her.  The scarf was a deep blue, and the veins at Sue’s temple seemed to disappear into an azure reservoir of Sue’s former vitality.  No eyebrows.

Sue’s smile hung like a horseshoe suspended in midair, a happy talisman that didn’t seem to be nailed to anything in particular, ever hopeful that good luck was about to return.  Her chin rested on Chanel’s coal black hair, which was pulled into two pigtails.  Chanel’s face was the color of dark butterscotch candy.  Her cheeks shone a little lighter, as if sunlight was resting inside them.  She had Clay’s parka wrapped around her, and LeVaughn’s glasses were still clutched in her hand. 

While people asked the speaker questions, Sue’s peaceful expression never changed, and Chanel never stirred.

Today I will find serenity,

 and I will not let the noise of everyday life affect me.

 Home Groupies © 2009 by Kenneth A. Montrose.