New Heroes in Recovery Blog: Helping Others Is My Passion

Just a quick post to let you know that my latest blog is up at the Heroes in Recovery website. It's entitled "Helping Others Is My Passion," and in it I talk about how helping people who are struggling with the addiction of a child or loved one is a huge part of my life now.

Please check out the blog if you get a chance. After you read it, click the "Like" button and feel free to leave a comment in the space provided under the blog post.

Here's a direct link to the post:

http://www.heroesinrecovery.com/blog/2015/01/12/helping-others-passion/

Peace.

Am I Going Back to School?

(Note: This blog post also appears on The Huffington Post's blog site as "Contemplating College at Age 53.")


I don't have a college degree.

For more than thirty years, those six words have sort of haunted me. In a world where popular opinion says that a college degree is necessary in order to find a decent job and be successful, I've managed to meander my way through my work life without one. Have I had decent jobs? I think so. Have I been successful? I guess that depends on how you define success.

I've performed very well in every job that I've had, and I take great pride in that. To me, that's success. On the other hand, someone who gauges success by the amount of money someone makes would probably say I could've done better. But that's fine. I have never been all about money and I've done well enough over the years to keep my family fed, put a roof over our heads, and provide us with some nice things.

Sometimes it blows my mind that I've only worked full time for four different employers in my lifetime. I spent the summer after high school graduation working for a landscape company. After that I spent a short time working as a radio personality in Ohio before going to work for a library reference/textbook publisher. I spent the vast majority of my career working for that company, putting in a total of 24 years with them before my position was eliminated in late 2013. Over the years, I also worked on and off for my father's business (a general building contractor).

I was never someone who was in love with school. I managed to graduate from high school with honors without working very hard. After high school, I went to broadcasting school. My dream was to work on the radio, and trade school was the shortest line between where I was and where I wanted to be. That six-month stint in broadcasting school was the most enjoyable educational experience of my life. I loved it and was sorry when it ended.

At the ripe old age of 18 I was hired by a radio station in Upper Sandusky, Ohio, to be their midday air personality. I moved away from home for the first time, had my own apartment, and was living my dream. Unfortunately, the dream ended when I discovered I couldn't make enough money to even pay my rent. That's when I decided to abandon the radio gig and move back home to...go to college.

I decided to go to college as kind of a last resort. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but at the time I had a "What else am I going to do?" mentality. I lived in the metro Detroit area, and I knew my scant career in radio was unlikely to land me a job in a major market. (Lord knows I tried, though. When I returned from Ohio I sent résumés and air check tapes to every radio station in Detroit.) Going to college seemed to be the logical, albeit not my favorite, choice.

The whole college thing was probably destined to fail right from the beginning. My parents were not well off, and they told me that I'd be paying for 100 percent of my tuition and books. I chose to attend a local "commuter" college, so at least room and board weren't an issue. But I remember going to a bank in downtown Detroit and taking care of the paperwork for my student loan and saying to myself, "What the hell am I doing?" Taking out a loan to pay for something I didn't really want seemed kind of stupid to me. But what else was I going to do?

To make matters worse, I chose to study radio broadcasting in college. I obviously knew a lot about the subject and profession already, but it was the only thing I was interested in. I thought if I got a college degree in broadcasting, maybe I could land a major market job, or at least a job in a reasonably large market. In other words, a job that might pay me enough money to live on.

I went to college for about two years. The introductory radio courses were boring for me because I knew the material. I aced those classes without even trying. On the flip side, the non-radio courses--with the exception of one film class--were excruciatingly painful for me. I wasn't interested in the subject matter. I didn't want to be there. I felt like I was wasting money I didn't even have yet. Add all that up and you can probably guess what happened next.

I quit.

Instead of going to college, I set out to find a job that would appeal to me in some way. I had always been interested in English and writing, and I found a job posting for an editorial assistant with a local publisher. I applied, and after two interviews I was offered the position. Long story short: I would end up working for that same company for 24 years.

I don't think the lack of a college degree ever really hurt me during my publishing career. But I always had an inferiority complex, because I worked for a company where just about everyone had at least a bachelor's degree.

Now my publishing career is history, and I'm looking for a job that I'm truly passionate about. And while I've been searching for that needle-in-a-haystack opportunity, I've come to the conclusion that A.) I might just need that bachelor's degree now; and B.) I definitely need more education in the field I'm interested in (addiction/recovery).

So maybe it's time to go back to school. (And let me stress the word maybe.)

I'm still not in love with the idea of going to school. Especially at my age. I'm also not sure how I would pay for it, since I'm unemployed and my wife's income isn't even enough for us to survive on. We also only have one car, so the logistics of getting to and from school present a challenge. But maybe online classes are a possibility.

I took the first step in the process last week when I requested my college transcripts. They're supposed to be mailed to me today, so I should have them tomorrow or the next day. It'll be interesting to see how many credits I actually have, and what my grades were like. (To be totally honest, I don't even remember how I did in the classes I hated.) It'll also be interesting to see what credits will even be transferable, given that I took these classes more than 30 years ago. But, what the hell. Life's an adventure, right?

If any college administrators out there are reading this and want to give me a full scholarship to their school, I will gladly accept. And if anyone wants to give me college credit for my life experiences and present me with a bachelor's degree, I will gladly accept.

Ahhh. If only it were that simple.

Peace.

"I have never let my schooling interfere with my education." --Mark Twain

My last day of work at the company I spent 24 years with.

My Goals for 2015

Last January 2nd, I wrote a blog post outlining my goals for 2014.

I chose "goals" over "resolutions" because a goal is not an absolute. Instead, it's something you strive for. As I wrote last year, "You choose something you want to do or accomplish, you see the end result, and you take steps to get there. If you don't reach your goal--at least in theory--you'll have made significant steps toward getting there. 'Progress, not perfection' is perfectly acceptable."

Last year I set six goals for myself:

1. Keep living in the moment
2. Start working for "Heroes in Recovery" and make a difference
3. Find a job I'm passionate about
4. See my son graduate from high school in June
5. Continue to help others as much as I can
6. Travel more

I was conscious of those goals all year long. I even posted an update on my progress in early August, just to make sure I was staying on track. So, now that 2014 is in the books, how did I end up doing? Here's my self-appraisal:

I nailed goals 1, 2, 4, and 5, and couldn't be happier with the results. Goals number 3 and 6? Maybe not so much.

I did travel some in 2014--Delaware, New York City, Nashville, Georgia, Stittsville (Ontario), Akron.  Some of it was work-related. Some of it was for fun. But I didn't travel as much as I wanted to, or, more importantly, go anywhere I "dream" about visiting. I'd really like to take a nice vacation with my wife (we never went on a honeymoon!). I'd love to escape to someplace warm in the winter--Hawaii, Puerto Rico, maybe the Bahamas. Any of those places would be awesome. I'd also like to go to Europe at some point. Unfortunately, the money to take a trip like I want to take just isn't there right now.

And speaking of money...

Goal number 3 was key to keeping my family's cash flow flowing. Unfortunately, I did not manage to land a job I'm passionate about--or any job--in 2014. A severance package got me through most of the year, so income and benefits weren't an issue. But all good things come to an end, and severance is no exception. So now I'm kind of under the gun.

I did apply for three jobs that would've satisfied my passion, so it's not like I wasn't trying. I actually thought one of the jobs was going to happen, too. But at the last minute it fell through. I also applied for a couple of jobs I thought would've been fun--at Costco and Trader Joe's--but neither one of those materialized.

Sometimes I think I should bite the bullet and take a job just for the sake of taking a job. Something that would provide a steady income and health benefits. But the more I think about doing that, the more I feel like I'd be selling out.

Earlier this week I came across this amazing quote from Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, the late Swiss-American psychiatrist who wrote the groundbreaking book On Death and Dying:

"It is very important that you only do what you love to do. You may be poor, you may go hungry, you may lose your car, you may have to move into a shabby place to live, but you will totally live. And at the end of your days you will bless your life because you have done what you came here to do. Otherwise, you will live your life as a prostitute, you will do things only for a reason, to please other people, and you will never have lived. And you will not have a pleasant death."

Amen to that. And then some.

I posted that quote on Facebook and commented, "I don't want to be a prostitute!" While that remark may have been funny, I can't stress enough that it's exactly how I feel. At this point in my life, I'm not at all enamored with taking some corporate gig and sitting in a cube all day. I've said it before and I'll say it again:

It's not all about money. It's about enjoying what I do and feeling fulfilled. I want a job that allows me to help others and make a difference in the world.

Selfish? Maybe. But I'm not giving up on the dream. Not yet. In the meantime, I'll keep doing the freelance work I've been doing, and maybe try to pick up some more. And I will shop around for health insurance.

So as I sit here typing on New Year's Day, I've decided to shorten my list of goals for 2015. Last year I had six goals. This year I have one:

1. FIND A JOB I'M PASSIONATE ABOUT

That's it. I have 364 days to nail this one. And I plan on doing it.

While I search for the perfect job, I will continue living my life like I have over the past year. I'll live in the moment (it's the only way to live, people); keep working for Heroes in Recovery as a lead advocate (I'm grateful they asked me to return in that role for 2015); continue to volunteer as a parent coach for the Partnership for Drug-Free Kids (giving other parents hope is so important); and try to be the best human being I can be.

Happy new year, kids. May your 2015 be totally badass.

"I'm here to be me, which is taking a great deal longer than I had hoped." --Anne Lamott

It's New Year's Eve. Pass the Root Beer.

So, it’s New Year’s Eve. Woohoo! Let’s party!!

Or not. Because New Year’s Eve has never appealed to me much as a “holiday.” I think the only time I ever really made a concerted effort to “celebrate” it was during a three- or four-year span during my teenage years. Maybe from the time I was 15 or so until I was 18?

Back in those days, I did some really stupid things. Overall I was a terrific kid (you can ask my Mom), but damn…when I look back and reflect on some of the behaviors I engaged in, it scares the hell out of me.

Having grown up in an alcoholic home (compliments of my Dad), I always associated New Year’s Eve with drinking. Not that it was much different than any other night in my house. I mean, my Dad was always drinking. I guess New Year’s Eve just meant that the beverages consumed included some more variety. Instead of just the usual Club Manhattans on the rocks, maybe there was some Champagne or Cold Duck thrown into the mix, too. And, of course, the kids were always invited to imbibe at the stroke of midnight, if not before.

(Cold Duck, a combination of wine and Champagne that was invented at a restaurant in Detroit--yes, as a Detroiter my Dad knew the history--was big in our house at holiday time. The first time I ever got drunk was when I had too much Cold Duck to drink one Thanksgiving. I was probably 12.)

So New Year’s Eve was, to me, a drinking holiday. Growing up, that’s what I saw, and it was engrained in me from an early age.

I think I was 15 when I had my first truly horrific experience with alcohol. It was New Year’s Eve and a girl down the street was having a party. I was excited to go because I had a bit of a crush on this girl, and she had way cool parents (or so I thought at the time). Her parents were so cool that they were letting her have a party with alcohol. The plan was for everyone to bring a bottle of something, then it would all be mixed together into a “punch.”

Great idea, right? Wrong.

Looking back, I can’t even fathom how something like this was allowed to happen. I know it was a different time--likely 1976--but what the hell kind of parents would let such a thing go on in their house? I can only imagine that it must’ve been an extreme case of “If they’re gonna drink, let’s have ‘em drink at home so we know they’re safe.” Sadly, I think some parents still subscribe to that theory, although I’m certainly not one of them.

But back to my story.

I went to the party. The punch was mixed. I drank punch. Actually, I drank a lot of punch, because I didn’t know what the f*ck I was doing. By 9:30 or 10:00, I was completely wasted. I knew I was going to be sick, so I made my way from the basement (party headquarters) to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. So, in what was probably one of the biggest examples of Murphy’s Law I’ve ever encountered in my lifetime, what do you suppose happened when I got to the bathroom? Yup. It was occupied.

I certainly wasn’t planning for that scenario. I started to make my way back downstairs, but only got down a couple of steps before I threw up. And boy, did I throw up. All over the stairs. All over the wall. All over myself.

Strangely enough, nobody noticed. The kids downstairs were partying too much to notice. And the music was so loud that nobody--downstairs or up--could hear me being sick. At the time, this gave me the false impression that I was home free. That nobody would know that I had been the one to fill the stairwell up with vomit.

Yeah, right.

It didn’t take long for the girl’s father to find the mess I had created. And it took even less time for him to pin the crime on me. The fact that I was covered in my own puke kind of made it a dead giveaway.

Long story short: I was asked to leave. I grabbed my coat, left the party, and made my way down the block, on foot, back to my house.

It was very snowy out and I have no idea how I managed to navigate my way home that night. I remember wondering what the hell I was going to tell my parents, who would most certainly be up and about. But somehow I managed to go around to the back door, waited for the perfect opportunity, and snuck in without anyone knowing. I quietly went to my room, took off my soiled clothes, and got into bed.

I remember waking up the next day with my first hangover. I felt like I was dying. And at that point I wanted to die.

Happy new year, huh?

You would think that that incident would’ve taught me a lesson, but it really didn’t. I remember going out and drinking for the next couple of New Year’s Eves, too, but I didn’t get sick anywhere but in my own bathroom at the end of the night. Needless to say, there was a period during my teenage years when I was obviously hanging out with the wrong people. When I found a different crowd to run with, things definitely changed for the better. Thank God.

Maybe that horrific experience back in the mid-seventies helped mold my current opinion of New Year’s Eve. I’m sure it must’ve had some effect. In any case, for me New Year’s Eve ranks right up there with St. Patrick’s Day as, first and foremost, a “drinking holiday.” That’s why I like to spend December 31st at home, safe and sound, with people I love.

Tonight I’ll cook a nice meal, we’ll enjoy each other’s company, and maybe we’ll even make it to midnight. But it will be an alcohol-free “celebration,” and the only scary thing about it will be hearing the gunshots ring out from across the border in Detroit at 12:00.

I hope all of you out there enjoy your New Year’s Eve, no matter how you celebrate it. Just remember: if you drink, don’t drive. Don’t make this holiday one your family will never forget for the wrong reasons.

Now, pass the root beer.

It's Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve, 2014. I'm sitting on the couch with my wife, watching Law & Order reruns, and listening to the rain from a Christmas Eve thunderstorm pounding down on our family room roof. It's almost 50 degrees outside, which is not very Christmasy. But I'm not complaining. Our younger son is upstairs, safe and sound in his room, playing an online video game with friends.

Oh, yeah. We just ordered Chinese takeout, too.

I grabbed my laptop and wanted to write a blog post, but I don't know what to write about.

There have been a lot of thoughts running through my head over the last few days. My mind always starts racing--even more than usual--around Christmastime, even though I've never been a huge fan of the holiday. Especially since it's grown so commercial over the years.

I know Christmas is supposed to be a religious holiday first and foremost, but we aren't very religious. (We're spiritual, not religious.) So we like to think of it as a family holiday. Almost like a second Thanksgiving. A time to be together, eat good food, and be grateful for what we have.

For several years in the not-so-distant past, Christmas was bittersweet. Sure, we had things to be thankful for. But we also had our struggles. Our older son's addiction wreaked havoc in our family and holidays were kind of like a ticking time bomb. We tried to enjoy Christmas, but something deep down inside us was saying, "It's gonna blow up, it's gonna blow up," over and over again. And sometimes it did. We just dealt with it the best we could and salvaged what we could of the holiday.

Since our older son got clean in July of 2012, Thanksgiving and Christmas have become kind of ethereal. We spent so many years wondering what a "normal" holiday felt like, that when we finally got a chance to experience it...well, it took some getting used to. Nonetheless, I'm so incredibly happy that this will be our third normal Christmas in a row.

Some people won't have a normal Christmas tomorrow, though. One family in particular, a family from the suburb in which I live, will have the agonizing task of trying to get through Christmas without their 16-year-old daughter. She was killed Monday night when a gunman sprayed the car she was in with 30 or so shots from his automatic rifle. This happened on a desolate corner in the neighboring city of Detroit.

There were four other teenagers in the car, too. Three of them were wounded and one was unharmed--if you can consider having to live with what happened to them that night for the rest of their life "unharmed."

I keep thinking how horrible it must be for the deceased girl's parents and family. A few days ago, they were likely full of joy, preparing for Christmas. Now they are full of grief, and have to prepare for a funeral.

Christmas will never be the same for them again. Never. Ever. I can't imagine how painful that must be.

There's been a lot of speculation on social media and in the papers about exactly why this happened to the suburban teens. They were admittedly sitting in the car smoking some pot right before the attack. Some people are saying the shooting was a drug deal gone bad. Others say it was a random robbery attempt. Lots of folks say the kids shouldn't have been where they were, or doing what they were doing.

I say, "Does it even matter?"

I don't really care what the kids were doing. What happened to them was another senseless act of violence in a society that has pretty much become numb to such acts. This tragedy has received a lot of media coverage because it happened to a group of (mostly) suburban kids while they were in the scary old city. But the sad truth is that things like this are happening every single day, all across our country.

Pardon my language, but what the fuck has happened to our society?

I posted this on Facebook today:

One thing that's wrong with the world today: Too much blame. Not enough compassion. Life's too short for constant finger-pointing, people. We're all in this together.

Things are so screwed up these days. People get shot and people blame the victims. Or people get shot and people blame the police. Or people get shot and people blame the president. Sometimes I just want to pack my bags and move somewhere that's free from the constant finger-pointing I mentioned on Facebook.

Okay, so I feel like I'm rambling now.

The Chinese food will be here shortly, so I need to wrap this up. Our Christmas Eve will be very low-key, just like every other day and night around here. Tomorrow morning, we'll open gifts. Or, should I say, the boys will open gifts. We are not very materialistic in this house--especially this year because I'm still out of work. My wife and I bought books for each other, and we've already made the exchange. (I got Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything Fast. She got George Clinton's Brothas Be, Yo Like George, Ain't That Funkin' Kinda Hard on You?: A Memoir.) There just wasn't anything that either of us really needed, because--and this may sound unbelievable--we already have everything we need.

Tomorrow the whole family will also be together for Christmas dinner, and before we eat we'll recite our new regular "grace":

"Right this minute, we understand that this is all there is, so let's really be together." (Thank you, Anne Lamott.)

I wish all of you who celebrate it a very merry Christmas. When you read this, take a moment (or several) to truly appreciate what you have. If you have a spouse or significant other, hug them and tell them you love them. If you have kids, hug them and tell them you love them. If you're with your family for the holidays, hug everyone and tell them you love them. Because we never know what tomorrow will bring.

Please don't ever take things you have for granted. Note: By "things," I mostly mean non-materialistic things. Because those are the "things" in life that really matter. Everything else is just stuff. And I know one family that would gladly trade all the stuff in the world for the chance to have their beautiful daughter back, to hug and hold closely this Christmas.

Rest in peace, Paige. My family is praying for you and your family.

"The value of life is not in its duration, but in its donation." --Myles Munroe

"The marks humans leave are too often scars." --John Green (in The Fault in Our Stars)

Note to Parents: WE Are Our Kids' Role Models

At the risk of sounding like a scrooge or a grinch--or maybe just a plain old killjoy--I've decided to go ahead and write this blog post.

Those of you who know me know that I'm on Facebook a lot. It's one of the primary ways I network with the recovery community and share my writing.

I've been on Facebook a long time, and there aren't a whole lot of things that bother me when it comes to what other people post on their pages. But one thing that has always bothered me is this:

Parents posting photos of themselves partying with alcohol.

I've seen several of these photos lately; maybe it's because the holiday season is upon us and people are hosting or attending Christmas parties. And while I understand that not everyone leads an alcohol-free life, as parents we should know that WE are the role models for our kids. What we do has a tremendous amount of influence on our children, whether we like it or not.

Sure, people will argue that they're adults and they have a right to do whatever they want. But I'm a firm believer in parenting by example. If your kids see your alcohol-related photos posted on Facebook, what kind of message do you think that sends to them?

In his terrific book Clean: Overcoming Addiction and Ending America's Greatest Tragedy, David Sheff writes:

“A study undertaken by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry found that children of alcoholics were four times more likely than other kids to become alcoholics. Kids who have seen their parents drunk are five times more likely than kids who haven’t to get drunk one or more times a month.”

If you're the parent of a teen or tween, think twice about what you're posting on your own Facebook page. It's very likely that your child(ren) will see it, so use common sense. (That's what you tell your kids to do when it comes to Facebook, right??)

Bottom line: If you're out partying this holiday season--or any season, for that matter--it's probably not the best idea to post photos of your imbibing self on Facebook.

I will now step down from my soapbox.

Peace.

"We should never permit ourselves to do anything that we are not willing to see our children do. We should set them an example that we wish them to imitate." --Brigham Young

This may be an extreme example, but you get the idea, right?

It's Better to Give Than to Receive

(Note: This blog post also appears on the Huffington Post's blog site under the same title: "It's Better to Give Than to Receive.")

I woke up this morning, turned on the Internet, and came across a New York Times OpEd piece titled "Is It Bad Enough?" Written by food writer, author, and columnist Mark Bittman, the piece focuses on the current state or our country and the spontaneous protests that have been going on nationwide.

Bittman writes:

"The root of the anger is inequality, about which statistics are mind-boggling: From 2009 to 2012 (that’s the most recent data), some 95 percent of new income has gone to the top 1 percent; the Walton family (owners of Walmart) have as much wealth as the bottom 42 percent of the country’s people combined."

Those numbers were shocking to me. How can one family have more money than so many others? I'm all for the American Dream, but looking at those stats can certainly make one realize why the non-rich may feel at least a little bit slighted.

Earlier in the week, I read another eye-opening article about being a "have-not" in the United States. This one was on the Slate.com website. Titled "Why People Stay Poor,"  it's actually an excerpt from Linda Tirado's book called Hand to Mouth: Living in Bootstrap America.

Tirado says:

"It is impossible to be good with money when you don’t have any. . . .When I have a few extra dollars to spend, I can’t afford to think about next month--my present day situation is generally too tight to allow me that luxury. I’ve got kids who are interested in their quality of life right now, not 10 years from now."

Tirado talks about how she once lost a truck that was towed because she couldn't afford to get it out of impound, and about how "It’s impossible to win, unless you are very lucky. For you to start to do better, something has to go right--and stay that way for long enough for you to get on your feet."

Reading those pieces from Torado and Bittman made me feel extremely fortunate. Which is strange, because just the day before I had posted this as my status update on Facebook:

"I kind of thought this to be the case, but I can now confirm based on experience: paying bills is way easier when you have an income!‪"

Looking back at that status update made me feel like a fool.

Yes, it's true that I have been unemployed for a year now. I've been doing some freelance work here and there, but I don't have a steady income by any means. That said, my wife works. And although her income is modest, we do have some money in the bank. The bottom line: We are far from being poor and are likely way better off than a very large number of Americans.

After I read the Bittman piece, I read part of it aloud to my wife. She was astonished by the statistics it quoted as well. Then she looked at me and said, "We should go to Kmart and pay off some people's layaways."

You have to pay a fee to use layaway. That seems unfair.

Paying off a complete stranger's layaway account is something my wife and I first did three years ago. Knowing that someone's holiday hinged on their coming up with enough money to free Christmas wish list items from a back room at their local Kmart was unsettling to us. So we went to Kmart, explained what we wanted to do, and went "shopping" in the layaway room for bundles of gifts we wanted to secretly pay for. We were "layaway angels" to three families that year.

Today, we did the same. Granted, things are way different for us this year. Three years ago, we were both working and things were pretty damn good. Today, only one of us is working. In fact, I applied for unemployment yesterday. But we are still blessed and do not want for much. Spending some money to brighten the Christmas of three less fortunate families just seemed like the right thing to do.

There was another article that caught my eye the other day.  It was a story in USA TODAY about a layaway angel who spent $20,000.00 to pay off every single layaway account--all 150 of them--at a Toys R Us store in Bellingham, Massachusetts.

My wife and I only spent one-tenth that much today, but the end result was the same: We made a difference in some people's lives this Christmas. Our hope is that the beneficiaries will realize that there are indeed still people in the world who care about others. Maybe someday they will remember what someone did for them and be inspired to pay it forward.

"No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another." --Charles Dickens

Looking through the shelves in the layaway room.

So many things to choose from.