36. What Doesn’t Suck

While the group was taking a break, I called Morgan into my office to ask how she was doing.

She grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen and sat down in the chair closest to my desk.  For a minute I thought she was going to put her feet up.

She said, “Six months ago my husband left me to find himself in a tiny cabin in Warren, Pennsylvania.  Apparently my good friend from across the cul-de-sac found herself there too.  My six year old daughter wants to know why I chased her Daddy away.  Her fourteen year old brother wants to kill his father. Not healthy, but at least he’s on my side.  My headaches began right after my husband left. That’s when I started diverting medications from patients.  Not meds they needed mind you, stuff I was supposed to destroy, but didn’t.  Well, at first I didn’t take meds they needed.” She looked down and then out the window. “Now I’ll be tied up for the next three years trying to hold onto my nursing license.  My brother told me my car will never pass inspection, and I got my period this morning.  I’d say a lot of things suck in my life.”

Her expression changed. “Then why are you smiling?” I asked, smiling back at her.

“Because right now, this very moment, doesn’t suck. The coffee doesn’t suck. The view out your window doesn’t suck. I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t do or say anything to make me think you suck.”

I laughed. “I’ll try my best.”

Today I’ll be grateful for things that don’t suck.

Time for a Change ©2017 by Ken Montrose

Time for a Change is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: www.greenbriartraining.com

16. Me First

Daphne and I walked into the group room together.  A young white man with long black hair who looked like he might be in his late twenties sat hunched over a notebook.  He was drawing in stunning detail a man in camo boxer shorts kneeling and looking north.  A set of drum sticks sat atop a neatly folded uniform. The sun set over his left shoulder.

“My younger brother,” the man said without turning to see who was behind him. “Last we heard he was in Canada.” 

“He was a soldier?” I asked.

“He wanted to be in the Marine Corps band.  Tough guy, patriot, musician – that was my brother.”

“What happened?”

“He fell and hurt his shoulder.  The doctor prescribed ibuprofen, but I talked him into taking Percocet. He fell in love with painkillers. Now he’s a roadie, bouncer, dealer, whatever keeps him close to his drugs.”

“And you?” I asked.

“In between drinking and smoking weed, I give music lessons and take classes.  I do just enough to keep my parents from kicking me to the curb.” He turned to look at me. A jagged scar ran from behind his ear halfway down his neck. “I want to get clean before I go after my brother again.”

Today I will put my house in order before I try to help somebody else.

Time for a Change ©2017 by Ken Montrose

Time for a Change is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: www.greenbriartraining.com

64. Phobophobia

I presented a training that afternoon on anxiety and addiction. Part of the training was about phobias.  To my surprise half the room said they were afraid of spiders.  This included two people who had served in the military, a former ER nurse, and a guy who looked like he could bench press my car.

I said I was a little embarrassed to admit I didn’t like being anywhere I couldn’t leave, such as planes, trains, or boats.  “And I pass out sometimes when I get my blood drawn.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” a young woman said. “Half the country has developed coulrophobia.  Do you know what that is?” I did.

Today I won’t be embarrassed by my fears.    

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

92. Kindness

Tara had a son ten years older than Amanda who was leaving the military to help with his dad. 
Tara said. “Darren loves us, but he really doesn’t owe us anything. We neglected him while we got our careers started. He made his own way. Darren joined the Air Force and put himself through school.” 

“Then why do you think he’s coming home?” I asked.

She smiled. “If I wasn’t there for the birth I wouldn’t believe he was my kid.  He’s a kind soul.  I’m grateful for him.  When the world seems unfair and unkind, I think about my son, and it balances things out.”

Today I will be grateful for kind people.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Writing my new story

"Whatcha writing?” my son asked when he saw me sitting in my favorite chair, laptop open.

“New story.  New characters.  Starts tomorrow,” I said, with a smile.  “I’m outlining the plot and fleshing in the characters.” I told him how my character’s lives made me think about my own.  “Writing fiction reminds me we get to write our own factual stories,” I added.

“Can I have $10?”

“What do you need $10 for?”

“Nothing, but you’re always in such a good mood when you start a new story.  I thought this would be a good time to ask.”

I gave him the ten. 

Today I will write a new story for my life.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

Other publications available at: http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Epilogue: Friday Night

On a cool night in June, my wife and I sat at a picnic table, under an enormous white tent covering most of the Lutheran Church’s parking lot.  Between us on a grease-stained plate lay a single french fry, the sole survivor of a large order with cheese and bacon bits.  I smiled at my bride as I stood and held out my hand.

We held hands as we walked across the adjacent parking lot to the Catholic school.  Bending down to peer through the basement windows, we saw Father Tim calling numbers for the weekly bingo game.  A few middle-aged women sitting at a front table played twenty or more bingo cards each.  They only looked up to yell “Bingo!” or cast annoyed glances at young people and talkers.  Most of the other sixty or so people in the room played a single card.  Even with a microphone, Fr. Tim had to yell to be heard over their conversations and laughter.

“Bingo or pie?” I asked my wife. 

“It looks like a fun crowd, but I don’t see anyone we know,” she said. “Let’s split a slice of pie and get a whole one for the road.”  I suggested we split a whole pie and get a slice for the road, but I agreed to her plan.   We walked two blocks to the First Baptist Church for pie. 

First Baptist’s old minister had retired shortly after our boys played his church’s team for the championship. The new minister - a tall, thin, young man with sandy hair - sat on a folding chair behind one of about two dozen tables under another white tent.  His table was loaded down with pies of every kind. Several elderly couples sipped coffee as they shared remembrances at a nearby table.  A man in a wheelchair sat smiling as he faced the setting sun, his eyes closed, one hand keeping his dog from getting at the plate on his lap. A group of young boys gathered around a laptop, cheering on older boy playing a computer game.

The young clergyman bounced up as we approached. “Don’t you love Friday nights?” he asked, smiling from ear to ear and shaking my hand.  I did.  We ordered an apple pie and a slice of berry.  As he gave me my change he looked around and said, “We are truly blessed.”

Later that night Fr. Tim was walking to the bank to use the night deposit box.  A dope-sick twenty-five year old Yale dropout stabbed him for the bingo money.  Father Tim bled out on the concrete steps in back of the bank.  The man got the death penalty. Friday night was never the same.  People felt uneasy walking the two blocks to the Baptist Church. They began getting food to go from the Lutheran Church, until they stopped getting food there altogether.  Friday night was dead in two years.

Today I will remember - drugs kill the best of times and the best of us.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

Other publications available at: http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Progress Not Perfection

A year after Marty’s girlfriend ransacked his house I ran into Benjamin’s girlfriend at a grocery store.  She was pushing a beautiful little girl in a stroller.  I was surprised she remembered me. She told me how Benjamin had cleaned up his act.  His bad habits, except one, had fallen away. 

She put her hands over her daughter’s ears.  “Those &^%$#$%^ scratch off tickets!  He still buys one every day.  He leaves the scratch off crumbs everywhere! We’re all going to die of some hideous form of cancer because the crumbs got into our food.” 

She talked about how Benjamin had been on the bubble, not drinking, but still surrounded by his addictions.  While thrilled he’d slid into recovery, she didn’t see him living out his natural life if he kept leaving the scratch off crumbs on their kitchen table. “I’ll cut him,” she said, laughing. “I’ll cut him with one of those &^%$#$%^ tickets.”

Today I will remember ‘progress not perfection.’

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

Other publications available at: http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

On the other hand

On the other hand, sometimes the universe has a way of getting even. I had always seen Marty as creepy old man taking advantage of a younger woman.  A year after he finished treatment, his twenty-something girlfriend cleaned him out.  While he was on an extended business trip, she had an estate sale.  She sold everything in their new home for pennies on the dollar.  When there was nothing left, she invited friends in to steal the copper pipes.  They tore out the wiring as well.  Just for spite they smashed the sinks and the toilets.  

His ex-wife put a picture of the ransacked house on Facebook with the caption “TRUE Colonial for sale. No indoor plumbing, no electricity. LOL.”

Today I will remember the universe has a way of getting even.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

Other publications available at: http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

When good things happen to bad people

Six weeks passed without a word from the licensing board.  I called Mikey to see what happened. He told me Doc had agreed not to practice medicine for five years.  I said that seemed fair.  He snorted. “She was offered a cushy job by a big drug company. More money, no patients, lots of travel.  And don’t underestimate Doc.  She’ll find a way to keep everyone knee deep in Valium and Xanax without writing a prescription.” I asked him if he wasn’t a little angry about Doc’s good fortune.

 “I never waste time worrying about someone else’s good fortune. People used to say jail time was your debt to society for committing a crime.  My dad told me when you get away with something, you add a little interest to that debt. You get a little bolder. You do something that carries a stiffer penalty.  When the debt comes due, you owe much more than you would have had you been caught the first time.  Doc got away with one, but she added some interest.  Now she’s not so worried about the licensing board ‘cause she thinks she can work around whatever they do to her. Someday she’s gonna kill someone with her prescription pad, probably one of the twins.  The debt she’ll owe will be enormous.” 

Today I’ll waste no energy resenting bad people’s good fortune.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

Other publications available at: http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Do the next right thing

We won on a buzzer beater by a kid named Longren. He drove through a swarm of defenders, got fouled three or four times, and through sheer will forced the ball toward the hoop.  Even some of the other team’s parents applauded his effort.

As we were leaving the gym I overheard one of the other team’s parents arguing with the minister.  The man was saying the rules allowed for a five minute break between games.  There would have been no shame in holding us to that.  In his opinion, giving us the extra half hour between games cost their team the championship.  He rambled on about how winners play just inside the rules, being a winner was no sin, and teaching the boys to win was an important lesson.

The minister shrugged and said, “It was the right thing to do.”  The man continued to argue, but the minister told him he planned to do the next right thing as well, no matter what the rules allowed. “It’s just the thing to do,” the minister reiterated as the man continued to argue.

Today I will follow the AA slogan ‘do the next right thing’ because it’s the right thing to do.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

Other publications available at: http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

How Kind

First Baptist won their semi-final game forty-five minutes before we finished ours.  According to tournament rules, we were allotted a five minute break between games.  The gym that had been a tolerable 75 degrees or so in the morning was by then a muggy 95. 

I watched from across the gym as the minister from First Baptist said something to his team parents.  Several looked at their watches, but most nodded their heads.  He stopped at the scorer’s table and motioned the referees over.  An older ref gave the thumbs up. The minister called Father Tim over.  They had a brief conversation.  Tim shook hands with the minister, the refs, the guy running the clock, and the woman keeping the score book.

It killed me not knowing what they had said. 

Father Tim told us to relax.  The minister had convinced everyone to give our team an extra half hour to recover from our game.  Even though we had beaten his team by fifteen in our last matchup, he offered our boys a chance to rest and absorb some fluids.

On paper, sixth grade church league basketball gave kids a chance to develop their skills, and learn the value of teamwork.  Winning wasn’t supposed to be important. In that light, the minister’s gesture was no big deal.  In the harsh light of reality, many parents relived their own athletic glories through their children, others tried to eradicate their disappointments the same way.  Families like Chad’s used sports to distract themselves from their many issues.  These folks needed their kids to win. Giving our boys an extra half hour was a kindness we hadn’t expected. 

Today I will be grateful for unexpected kindness.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Who won?

I called Fr. Timothy over and explained why I couldn’t accept $500 worth of gift cards.  He agreed to return them to Bob after the game. 

The next game was a semi-final matchup with the team we had barely beaten in the regular season. The game went into triple overtime. By the end, kids were moving at half-speed.  We used our timeouts to rest players.  Three of our ten players fouled out. 

We won, but the other team wasn’t dejected.  After the final buzzer, they were smiling, laughing, and talking with our players about this play and that play.  We had a hard time herding the teams together for the ritual postgame handshake line. They wished our kids good luck in the finals, and left the gym excited about their season ending ice cream/pizza party.

Sometimes it’s not the score that tells if you if you’ve won or lost.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Carded

I had enough time before the next game to really look at the gift cards.  One was for $100 at a tire center.  I doubted my car would pass its upcoming state inspection sporting the four bald tires I had been advised to replace eighteen months earlier.  Another $100 card was from a restaurant my wife loved.  Our anniversary fell one week before the car’s inspection sticker expired. The tire store sat less than 100 yards from the restaurant.  Coincidence, I wondered? Or does the universe want me to celebrate my anniversary without worrying about my car?  Six or seven rationalizations later I remembered the cards were a bribe.

Today I will beware of how quickly bad ideas grow roots.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Before the fifteen shots this seemed like a bad idea…

That weekend KC and I were coaching the first playoff game when Chad’s father Bob walked over to the bench.  He handed each of us an envelope.   Bob said, “It’s a little ‘thank you’ for coaching. Win or lose today, it’s been a great season.” Looking directly at me, he added, “you should open them after the game, maybe at home.” 

We won the first game easily.  Between games we couldn’t resist opening the envelopes. KC’s held a thank you note and a $25 Starbucks gift card.  Mine contained gift cards totaling $500.  Either Bob’s family thought I deserved to be the highest paid assistant sixth-grade coach in the nation, or this was another bribe attempt.

It took an entire family befuddled by booze, Valium, porn, gambling, and/or drama, to devise the it’s-a-thank-you-not-another-bribe plan. I couldn’t judge them too harshly.  In my drinking days I consulted a brain so soaked in vodka it couldn’t tell a trash can from a urinal to decide if I was ok to drive. 

Today I won’t depend on a foggy mind for clear thinking.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Changes that Stick

I didn’t know it then, but I wouldn’t see Terry again for ten years. I ran into him at a conference on drunk driving.  He was running a DUI prevention program in the local schools.

Terry had finally matured in his fifties.  His program was highly regarded.  He had saved his marriage, and he was proud to tell me he was a much better grandfather than he’d been a father.

We talked about how people change.  Terry told me about a kid he had known who should have gone to jail, but grew up to become a widely respected District Attorney.  The DA was prosecuting the abusive husband of a woman Terry had met an AA meeting. Nobody had thought she’d ever find the strength to file charges, let alone follow through with the entire legal process.

“She’s a new woman, Ken.  Gives you hope, doesn’t it?” he asked.  “Sometimes the changes stick.”

Today I will be grateful for positive changes that stick.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Life, Recovery, Cars

Terry poked his head into my office as I was hanging up the phone.  He was done with treatment, and going back to work full-time in a few days.  We talked about transitions and how they’re almost always challenging.  He asked what I thought was the key to staying clean and sober.  I told him to remember the AA slogan, ‘don’t pick up the first drink.’  We talked about how not picking up the first whatever or whoever was vital to breaking any bad habit. “Don’t pick up the first drink, don’t pick up the first brownie, don’t pick up the first stranger,” I said.

“Change people, places, and things,” I added.  “Don’t rely on willpower, get rid of temptation instead.  One day at time enjoy good days, endure bad days, and know you’re one day tougher than you thought.”

 “Have a life,” I said.  “You will meet people whose sole focus is not doing something. They can’t wait to tell you what they don’t do, and how long since they’ve done it. You’ll know them by the way they act superior, but look miserable. They don’t really have a life.  I didn’t quit drinking to quit drinking. I quit drinking to enjoy the rest of my life. I hope you’ll do the same.”

“If life is a journey, recovery is just a vehicle,” he said.  “You’re telling me not to live in my car.” 

Today I will remember life is a journey, recovery is a vehicle, and I don’t want to live in my car.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

What’s Up Doc?

I know what you’re saying,” Bob said.  “My family needs to stop doing the sketchy stuff that gets us into trouble. If you help Doc get out of this mess, we can start cleaning up our act.”

He wasn’t getting it. “Forget the roller coaster and the train,” I said.  “Did you ever watch the old Bugs Bunny cartoons? In one of them Bugs is on a plane that’s about to crash.  Just before the plane hits the ground, he steps out.  The plane crumples into a twisted heap of metal.  He walks away unharmed.

“In real life you can’t just step out.  Your body is moving as fast as the plane.  You’d hit the ground at the speed the plane was traveling.  Getting Doc out of trouble would be like helping her step out of a nose-diving plane.  The case against her might crash and burn, but she really wouldn’t walk away unharmed.  She’d be more convinced than ever she was managing her family’s addictions, and that everything was under control.”

“So you’ll help her with the licensing board?” Bob asked. 

I stared at the phone, amazed at how disconnected from reality he was.  ‘Drink enough booze, do enough drugs, and life takes on a cartoonish quality,’ I thought. “Can’t,” was all I said.

Today I will live in the real world.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Roller Coaster or Train Wreck?

Bob, Chad’s father called.  My heart broke for him. The pain in his voice cut through me. I already knew some of his family’s troubles, but things were worse than I could have imagined.  Pauley had sent some pornographic pictures to his boss by mistake.  Sam had had enough and was moving to Colorado to get away from his family.  The twin who hadn’t OD’d had made a weak suicide attempt.

Bob said, “We’re going off the tracks, Ken.  Mikey said you could help.”

I explained that I was in a tricky spot because of my involvement with Doc and the licensing board.  I gave him some phone numbers to call.  I asked him about the tracks.

“Are they the tracks of a roller coaster or a train? When you hit bottom will you use your momentum to start back uphill like a roller coaster? Will you change your lives, maybe deal with your addictions?  Or will you crash and burn like a speeding train? Will you find someone to blame, or maybe just wallow in self-pity?”

If today goes badly I will ask myself: roller coaster or a train wreck?

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Relapse Rehearsal

I met Benjamin’s girlfriend the next morning at family day.  A petite redhead with a warm smile, she told me she was a musician. She also told me “I  mentally practice playing a difficult piece all the way through before I pick up my instrument. It smooths the way for me to perform it in real time.  Benjamin mentally practices all his vices and congratulates himself on his self-control.  He goes to the bar to drink Pepsi.  What’s he really doing?  He’s mentally practicing getting drunk.  When he goes to the strip clubs, he’s proud that he just looks. He’s mentally cheating on me.  Do you know he buys $50 worth of scratch-off tickets at a time?  He says he’s not really gambling.  He is, and he’s looking for the feeling he gets at the casino, without actually going there.”

I told her how he said he’d raise the child even if he wasn’t the father.  She snorted. “I never cheated on him, not once.  He’s the father. He wants people to think I cheated so he  won't look like such a bad guy if he leaves.  He’s mentally preparing his exit strategy.”

Today I won’t practice my vices, mentally or otherwise.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Laughing: When There’s Nothing Else To Do

I took Blondie with me to practice that night.  While the team was at one end of the court she shot foul shots at the other.  KC had seen several of Blondie’s game and knew she was an excellent foul shooter.  He called her over.

“I want you to watch her form after the ball leaves her hand,” KC said to the boys as Blondie walked to the foul line. “Watch closely.”

Blondie bounced the ball twice, and then brought it up to her shoulder.  Just as she was about to shoot I demanded in the harshest voice I could muster, “Why are you guys staring at my daughter?”

Playing along, KC said to Blondie, “Kid go through your shooting motion slowly, I want these guys to see how your elbow and your shooting hand are always aligned.  He looked at the confused faces of the boys and added, “Concentrate guys.  Focus your full attention on her.”

Their eyes darted from me to Blondie to KC, looking for a clue for how they should handle this situation.

“I have a baseball bat in my trunk,” I said. “Don’t make me get it.”

They were slow on the uptake, but finally they realized KC and I were messing with them.

“She’s so pretty,” Salt said to Hardwork and the Maker, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Must have a pretty mom,” Pepper said, looking right at me and laughing.

As I stepped toward them, Salt and Pepper backpedaled away from me.  My plan was to grab one of them, wrestle him to the ground, and pretend to pummel him.  A minute into the chase I realized I wasn’t going to catch either one. “You better run!” I said to Salt.

“You better sit down, and catch your breath coach!” Hardwork said to me.  “I don’t care what they taught us in school, I’m not giving coach CPR!” he said to his teammates.  Practice got even sillier from then on.

Today I will laugh at impossible situations.

(It might not change the situation, but I’ll feel better.)

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: LOLT II is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)