Each of us has a story. Who we are. What we have done. Our developing present. The victories and the troubles, all mushed together. Threads
of past tales merge with newer ones. Together they
seem separated; they are not. They are of a piece that is each of us.
One fellow, 33 years old, has his story. An athlete of great
promise on basketball court, football field, and baseball, too. Through high
school he was a star athlete. He graduated and received a full scholarship at a
private college to play on their football team, and basketball squad, too if
possible. He did those things; but classes were another matter. He failed
his classes and flunked out at the end of his freshman year. Seems his high
school education was a shell to keep him active in the athletic programs. The reality
caught up to him in college. He has done very little with his life since. Menial
jobs, a small circle of friends, and a lot of cigarettes and beer. A little
weed from time to time, but mainly beer and cigs. Lost his jobs routinely. Got stuck
in low paying jobs. Has repeatedly been bailed out of the emergency room and
hospitals by his family. Short of funds? He asks and gets pocket money for food
and cigs from Dad. And beer. Always the beer.
This young fellow is an alcoholic. He cannot control the
intake of beer. He drinks to sleep, to blur the pain of his minimal existence. His
brain is talented in poetry. His body is athletically gifted. But these two
talents do not make a career in his case without education and professional
certifications. He is at a dead end.
And his parents and friends have enabled him for this
journey. But now other friends are helping to get him the treatment to beat the
beer. He was in a lock-down de-tox facility for 30 days earlier this year. Once
out he lost his job and returned to beer. He entered the ER a few more times for de-tox. Each time he returned to an apartment to
communicate with his beer. And more ER visits.
This weekend he entered the same lock-down de-tox facility
he had been a patient in before. This time for another 30 days. This time to
de-tox and to learn how to remain sober. Time will tell if this will be a
success. I think not.
The long-term solution is to excite this young man in a
calling, a lifetime purpose. I think he would be great with kids struggling to
balance athletics with learning in school. He’d be a very good coach for young
athletes, too. Those professions require a college degree and
professional certification. Not likely for him at this point.
Maybe helping others to find themselves will help him find
himself? That’s the hope. But the means are not readily apparent. We shall
continue to hope for his sake and the promise of our own society.
This is one person’s tale. But it meshes with his parents:
father almost 80 years old; mother 71 and diagnosed with dementia. Of five
stages, she has probably advanced to stage 2. They are living in a senior
citizens facility under subsidy. They are behind in their payments and cannot
possibly catch up. They are under eviction notice and nearing the date of
being put on the street. A week away, now. The husband balances these
responsibilities with few resources while the wife remains mostly unaware of
the housing problem plus the alcoholic son. The father attempts to do it all. Without
sufficient income, no car, and being evicted from their apartment, he sees no immediate
solution. This is their story and it still unfolds slowly toward a very
uncertain future. A near-term future. What will happen? Will there be a miracle
that repairs their situation? And if so, will there be another miracle to solve
the son’s problems as well?
None of us know the answers. We observe, help and labor on. We
hope. We care. We hurt for our friends caught in this web of tales so
desperate.
August 14, 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment