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Sobriety, The Redheaded Stepchild
The unpopular choice
Today I fit right in with the Women’s Temperance Movement — you know those babes from the prohibition days, banging tambourines, threatening, “Lips that touch liquor shall not touch ours.”
Before snagging the tambourine from my hand, please hear me out.
By removing one ingredient, alcohol, the course of my life changed from a raft heading over the falls to one that even on my worst of days, still floats. I’m not pushing mandatory sobriety for all. I’m aware of the OTHERS who live happy, productive lives, sipping cocktails with an occasional occurrence of overindulging. If you’re one of those freaks, stop reading, now. But if you have ever measured the cause and effect syndrome of inebriation, yours or others, asking how a good time turned sour, keep reading.
Take any event — say family camping. I have fond memories, especially the days of Eight Mile Creek in eastern Washington. On the first day, we’d set up camp, dig steps in the dirt that led to the creek, prepare wash stations with soap savers hanging in trees, and gather river rocks to serve as weights for checkered tablecloths. Once camp was secure and comfy, it was a day of popsicles and butterflies — the worst threat was a bite on the rump by a giant horsefly while wading the creek. Evenings we’d gather around the…
