Friday, February 10, 2012

29 Years Dry Today


Today marks the 29th anniversary. About two weeks previous to this day 29 years ago, my wife took the risk. She told me I was to leave our house and take my bottle with me should I choose to continue drinking. She said that if I stopped drinking, we would see if we could continue married. She pointed out that her medical insurance would pay for my 20 some odd days of inpatient treatment for alcoholism. She thought I should go there but that would be up to me.

I spent the next two weeks in extreme distress and then collapsed into my fate. On my last night I drank as usual and woke more or less sober in the morning as usual. She drove me to treatment. I went to my first AA meeting under treatment direction a week later. I have not had another drink since that morning.

The Red Sands Of Gnome

The gnomes under me
have stirred and clatter awake,
troubled with your scent
much like we dislike
the signs left by hissing cats.

They are the displaced
mud river gnomes dumped
here last time God rumbled by
in His dwarf humvee,
all militarist
in His latest gruff pretense.
They do hate the dry.

February 10, 2012 8:00 AM

You too can write weird poetry like this. All you have to do is not drink and not die for twenty nine years. Well...perhaps not all. Thanks to my friend Wander over at Wander Without Being Lost for his reminder of my responsibilities toward the gnomes.

5 comments:

  1. To see the dry one walk by


    All the little gnomes
    Ran out from their little homes
    To see the dry one walk by

    “I have a responsibility
    Given directly from you to me
    Without care or concern

    That day you drove by
    And gave me a thorn in my side
    As you threw them from your Humvee

    All those river gnomes
    You drove from your homes
    Can’t abide the dry!”

    All the little gnomes
    Ran back to their little homes
    With shouts of glee for the search

    "Has anyone a match?" one said
    "He wouldn’t burn" shouted another
    "If he wasn’t dry" they screamed in chorus!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Congratulations. You are truly a remarkable man.

    (Wander's response is lovely too!)

    ReplyDelete
  3. I love the poem! i guess it's too late for me to start drinking and then stop and be dry for 29 years.
    I could stop with another bad habit; like never react anymore to my husbands grumbles. And by the time i am 80, well i could do anything i wish, because, when i never get upset anymore by his upsets, i will be an angel. I can imagine gnomes being 80, but angels?
    ps congratulations!

    ReplyDelete
  4. I totally understand. Would you like a congratulations? I am a fellow but my own was one of a performing artist lost in her enhancers that kept her distance from the juxtaposition of the closeness she craved and the wall she clung to. What she thought she needed were the softening attempts at harsher lights that sometimes burnt her from the outside in. She only desired a mellower afterglow...really truly. :)
    The steps away from the eventual hell of the addict are arduous. The life is another one, not exactly new but different enough to sometimes make you howl. Yes, we are different - for better and hopefully not worse. Yet, we are alive and relatively well at our varying degrees of looking and experiencing this planet in all its raw forms of ugliness, beauty, growth and decay. For your courage to begin and bravery to stay the course I laud you. HUGS

    ReplyDelete

The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.


Get Your Own Visitor Map!