Beautiful Boy

I'm reading this book, "Beautiful Boy" about a father and son. The son started using drugs in high school and his appetite got larger. He began with drinking, went to pot, then ran the gamut of other powerful drugs: cocaine, meth, heroin, Ecstasy, this list goes on. The first time I drank, I was 12 years-old. My father had a rule: "I don't care what you do, as long as you do it in my house." My brothers and I never took that as a hard and fast invitation to go nuts, but the first time I got drunk was at my brother's going away party. At my childhood home.

Darrell was heading to San Antonio, TX for basic training. Air Force. My parents threw him a big party where drinking was the #1 past time. I drank beer. I drank a lot of beer. I drank so much beer that I hit on my brother, Ira's, ex-girlfriend (in my defense, I liked her first). She punched me in the stomach. I was so drunk that I made out with one of Darrell's friends. Sober, she looked like Boy George. I can't remember how many beers I had, but I claim the number was 12.

That event somewhat "gave me permission" to take things further. I ignored the rule my father set for us, and drank outside the house. Ira worked at a country club and stole a case of Jack Daniels and Slow Gin. We would drink after school in our neighbor, Randy's garage. I also messed around with marijuana around that time. I don't think I ever got high, though. I acted as if I did, but I never felt any different.

Except once. Ira, Randy, and I went bowling at the country club and smoked a joint before we went inside. I was sick at the time. Bronchitis. Each time I took a hit, I immediately coughed, and coughed, and coughed. So much so, that the night began to get fuzzy. We went inside, bowled one game, and drove back to our house to play video games. I was freaked out. My heart was racing, my mind played tricks on me. It was scary. I was convinced that orange juice and my father were the keys to getting sober. Ira disagreed. He gave me the orange juice, but refused to wake up our father to satisfy my delusion. It was the last time I smoked pot until college.

Through high school, I stayed away from drinking and recreational drugs. Even when I went to college--at first--I didn't succumb to the freedom that comes with being away from home and living in a dorm. My freshman year, that is.

As time went on, I dabbled more with drinking. Dabbled led to getting drunk most weekends (weekends in college consist of Wed-Sun). I smoked pot again a couple more times. Mostly during my junior year when I was in Theatre.

But beyond that, I've never tried anything harder than drinking and pot. Ever. I read about this boy who spiraled out of control, needing more and more to get through the day, and I wonder how someone can get that out of control. I read about his father and what the addiction did to him. What it did to the boy's mother, step-mother, younger brothers and sisters, family, friends. It is truly scary, especially now that I am a father. What will happen to my children. How can I keep them away, keep them safe.

I don't know that I agree with my father's edict, but the credit he deserves is that he kept all three of his kids away from the hard stuff. One of them, at least.