Mokey see, Monkey do.
When I first started this endeavor to do some typing and storytelling on Sundays, I knew I would have to eventually deal with this topic. There is a lot to unpack, and it wont all happen today, but its coming. I simply cannot tell the story of my dad and I without putting Alcoholism on the table. Like many things in life, hindsight is truly 20/20.
Going back to last week when I described the time I got drunk after school, I left an important detail out. You see, while I was on all fours, hurling my guts up into the back yard, Dad was standing at the slider barking insults and belittling me. The whole time, he was holding what was likely a glass of Cutty Sark, the only scotch whiskey he could afford. The retrospective view of this scene is so powerful and telling, and was likely just one of many hypocritical parenting moments we experienced in my early teens. Telling your child not to drink alcohol, while simultaneously sipping whiskey is so rich. The whole idea of “do as I say, not as I do” is complete horseshit, and Dad said that phrase many times when we were together. But Alas, I became an alcoholic, just like my father before me. When I was younger, I never recognized dad as an alcoholic because I, like many, had this vision of alcoholism that was an old dude, sitting on the curb, with a bottle in a brown paper bag. Dad wasn’t that, and neither was I. But I grew up to be a fully functioning alcoholic as well.
For those that spent time with dad, and you don’t think he was an alcoholic, then you aren’t being realistic, and you were possibly one as well. Its important to set this distinction. Determining the cause of my alcoholism, is not the same as assessing blame, but its fair to look back and try to determine what put me on the path to addiction.
Since I was 10, and moved to Oregon, all I ever wanted was to spend time with my real Dad and have an actual father figure to grow with, so its natural I would follow his lead on everything. Fishing, hunting, golfing, womanizing, and of course, drinking. I got pretty good at all of them, and I learned from him, and his buddies at the time.
Many mornings, before daylight, standing by a fire waiting to fish a spot, I was “one of the guys.” It was when I was treated older than I was. Someone in the group would pull out a flask and offer everyone a “snort”, or a sip. So, in the most influential time of my life, im around alcohol, in the seemingly least harmful stage. These were great guys, and treated me as one of them, and I felt like a grown up at times around them. I certainly was an adult when it came to my fishing abilities, and that contributed to me fitting in I believe. Regardless, this did nothing to tell me alcohol is bad, so later, telling me it is, holds no water with me.
Mokey see, Monkey do.