It's taken me along time to share my feelings and fears about my Father. I think, a great title for a book I want to write would be "Married to the Bottle". I was driving home last night after work, and I figured I needed to call him to say hi, etc. When I called, first I didn't know if the number I had was even working as it's common to be disconnected. Much to my surprise (sarcasm( he was drunk again. He's been an alcoholic for as early as I remember. At first, it seemed he didn't recognize my voice and it hurt my soul. It was as if he had come down with a memory disorder, but I know it's the years of barley and hopps that is now effecting his memory. If you know anyone who is an alcoholic, you know it's tough no matter how old you are or your life situation. He asked how I was and my wife and I told him fine...then he asked again...how's your wife? I began to feel as though we were even further away from each other. I thought, how could he ask me again...he just did. So, again-I say she's fine, we're fine.

My Dad has always been my biggest supporter, no matter what I wanted to do. Especially when I struggled to be accepted by those around me. I didn't have a lot of support from others outside my parents. My high school principal told me I wouldn't amount to much. I drove by in my news vehicle when I reported for the local station and waved. My Father isn't just a "drunk" to me. It's also why I have such a hard time seeing him struggle now. The big bad Marine now a slave to booze.

Alcoholism is a very sad disease, that forced him to hide the 40 ounce beers he would sneak into the house--not knowing how we caught on with the sweet vapor of alcohol dancing in his breath. Favorite hiding spots were the attic, behind some towels in the bathroom closet and the garage. When I got bored as a child, I would go on my "prohibition" missions to find the booze from hiding then dump it out. With each bottle I found, an early depression set in as my Father succomed to the drink.

DUI number one came early one morning, forcing my Mom to bail my Dad out of jail and pay emormous fines that we couldn't afford. How embarrased I was that my Father was in jail. What will everyone think?

We were a middle class family with my Mom working most of the time. My Dad couldn't hold a job for more than a few weeks because he would show up drunk, or drink while he worked. You can understand how that becomes a problem. For the most part, we were a one income home with just a few nice things--that my Father would guilt my Mom into buying. A few days or weeks later, he would end up pawning the stuff for booze. Taking the money to buy rounds for the bar, instead of food for us or uitilities. At three in the morning, he would stagger in hiccupping so much, we expected vomitting to follow. A wad of cash from our big screen tv in his pocket--not all of it.

The next day, a Saturday, we would go outside and throw the football back and forth and I would realize that I really loved my Father. He was my hero when he was sober, he loved being with me and is so proud of me. It was agony to see him so happy and care free playing ball with me, then I knew come dinner time, he would take off to a bar, telling us he was filling out applications in town. Crying myself to sleep was common. Thinking, why does he choose beer over Mom and I. Why can't he stop, it seems so easy. Just, don't drink. Well, it's easy I guess for us who don't drink uncontrolably to understand. If he came home before early morning, I would hear Mom yelling at him and putting on the strong face my Brothers and I know. My Brothers are from another marriage and would walk by me and shake their heads in disgust. It was tough knowing that my Father had such a huge problem that was affecting the family. At night, Mom would come in and see me then break down. I would cry too, what do I do she would ask me. I as always say, please don't get divorced. She didn't until after I moved out of the house.

DUI number two came another early morning and a phone call to my Mom to bail him out of jail. At this point, everyone was frustrated. More money, stiffer fines, and oh yeah...his license was taken away leaving him no way to get work. I was just glad he didn't kill anyone driving drunk.

My day came, drivers education was a time of fun, excitement and driving him to jobs and the party store for beer. It forced me to hate driving I think and wish for something different.

(To Be Continued)

J