Another Beer With Dad....

Another Beer with Dad....

TODAY IS THE SECOND MEMORIAL DAY WITHOUT MY FATHER. I WILL BRING HIM A BEER, LIKE I DID LAST YEAR. IT WILL BE NICE TO WATCH HIM HAVE A COLD ONE....

There are certain concepts that I, as a recovering addict, have to keep at the forefront of my thinking if I am to maintain my sobriety. The most important one is to remember at all times that I am just one drink or drug away from the hell I went through for nearly 28 years. When I wake up in the morning I ask God to get into my head before I do because if I get in first it can be a very long and difficult day.

It doesn't mean that I am going to drink or take a drug. It does mean that addiction is a thinking problem. More specifically it is an over thinking problem. At least for me it is. If I wake up and get my melon into overdrive before my first tinkle, the day is likely to be filled with worry, anxiety, frustration, fear, anger, resentment and all the negative emotions that drove my addiction and depression for years.

I used to escape me, not you. Although I don't use any longer I still find myself following me wherever I go. I have had to forge a new relationship with me based on the things I have learned in recovery. My life is for the most part exactly what I want it to be. I am grateful to be alive and thriving in the acting and comedy world, something that was impossible while using. More importantly, I am a trusted friend, husband, father and son. I also try to help others find their way to the gift of sobriety that I have been given so freely.

That being said, I love days when I am just about to crawl under my Scooby Doo sheets and I realize that I went the whole day NOT realizing I was an addict, alcoholic or depression sufferer. In other words, I made it through the day like an earthling! How cool is that?! It doesn't mean that I take my disease for granted. It means I am getting stronger in my sobriety. I spent 28 years using. It will take the rest of my life untwisting the mess inside my head and those I tried to rewire along the way.

Yesterday was the paradox of that feeling. If you watched the video I posted above, Squeaky and I went to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery yesterday to "have a beer with my Dad." I stopped at the liquor store and was thrilled that the one I visited allowed for the purchase of just one. It has been two and a half years since I have purchased alcohol and it really had no effect on me. I was on a mission to get my dad a beer. My family knows I am McGyver-like in my focus when there is a mission at hand.

The funny side note to that was I stopped at the local corner store to try to get a can earlier in the morning, having forgotten the Sunday selling restrictions, and the store owner looked at me cockeyed when I asked what time they were open for liquor sales. I quickly said it was for my Dad. I am surprised they stayed in business after I quit the stuff. I know their profits went way down for sure!

The memorial was beautiful. It stopped raining long enough for us to toast Pops. The birds were singing and he has a great view of the forest and a pavilion where they honor the latest Vet to be interred there. In an ironic twist he is right next to a soldier named Jones, my wife's maiden name. That soldier was only 46 years old.

As I spilled the frothy beer into the gravel, the earth seemed to gulp it down with vigor. The soldiers all had a sip along with my dad. As I said my goodbyes I could smell the beer on my hands and it brought memories flooding into my mind; some good, many bad. The good ones were of the many laughs I had with my dad over a few cold ones at many a Bear game and when I worked for him. The bad was for the months, and at one time years, I missed in my alcoholic fog that we didn't speak because he couldn't bare to see me self-destruct.

There was no sadness in the time with him. I spent many hours with him at the end of his life making up for those lost years. I am at peace with my past mainly because I can not change it. I have learned from it and know what not to do so I don't have to live it again. I always like to point out in my blog that I am not anti-alcohol or anti-anything. It's just not for me because I can't stop once I get rolling. One is too many and a thousand isn't enough.

Squeaky chuckled as I wiped my hands in the grass to get the smell off my hands. It was like I was trying to wipe bird poop off my hands. My few moments of discomfort were worth the symbolic enjoyment I am sure my dad got out of that beer. He was probably laughing at me with his unit in heaven while I squished my nose at my skunky, beer soaked hands.

I know how he must have felt during those lost years when he didn't know where I was but knew I was hurting and slowly destroying myself. My middle daughter hasn't been around in a week. She dropped our son off today and didn't even stop in to say hi. She had a hangover. She is lost, but she's an adult. There is little I can do. I can be grateful for my sobriety, pray and have the confidence and faith that I will be of clear mind to help her when she's ready for it. My dad was there when I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'll be there for her too.

The Enlisted Protect YOUR FREEDOM! Say THANKS!

My Dad and I had a lot in common. We both shared a passion for the Bears, America and Ireland. We both wore our Irish-American Pride on our shirt sleeves. Making other people laugh made us laugh. I can't count how many Bear games we endured in the 70's, and cheered through, in the 80's and 90's. Lastly, we both served in the United States Armed Forces. My Dad was an Army Sergeant, I spent a short stint in the U.S Naval Reserve between the ages of 40 and 41 during the current conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan.

There were also some stark contrasts. My Pop liked the Cubs. I love the Sox. He was a staunch Republican. I am a little more moderate. I guess you could call me a late blooming hippie with centrist views. He was pro-military period! I saw things from a different perspective. I see now that sometimes conflict is unavoidable.

My Dad loved his days in the service. He did most of his tour in Georgia, and was a radio instructor. He was a model soldier in uniform, He believed in the brotherhood, in and out of it. In a twist of irony his best friend from kindergarten ended up transferring to his base. That's my Uncle Bob. They were so close I was born on the same day as his daughter Kim. Now that's friends!

After the service they remained tight buddies, and Bears season ticket holders, until my pop passed on. Uncle Bob, and I took some of his ashes to the Seattle game in 2010, two months after he went up to hang with Halas and Sweetness. He is a part of every game from the North End Zone. Pulling that off is a story for another day. He would have been proud of my stealth mission.

He is interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. Some of them were held back for me to take to Ireland's Ring of Kerry. If you ever wonder about the sacrifices that our men and women in uniform give for this country it's worth the trip. Visit ALNC in Elwood, Illinois or Arlington National Cemetery, in Arlington, Virginia. I have had the honor of visiting both. When I was 12 I saw the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Even as a kid it left me awe struck. The sea of white headstones, perfectly sized and in exact formation will drive my point to the center of your soul. It is awe inspiring. The silence is deafening. The sacrifice displayed is humbling.

My stint in the Navy was short. I served out of Glenview. I was in for just over a year. I wanted to serve. My body couldn't handle it. My desire to serve my country was stronger than the demands serving it put on my body. I am grateful for that time. I was honorably discharged shortly there after. My Dad and I weren't even speaking during the time I served. My booze and addiction issues had driven him away. My self-destruction pushed him away. He couldn't bear to see me crash and burn any longer.

I don't care if you are pro-military or pro-peace. No soldier wants to go to war. I believe war should be fought only as a last resort. It should be fought for protecting our country, and the oppressed. It should not be fought for resources or economic gain. In WW1, WW2, Korea and Vietnam thousands of jobs were created with American sweat and pride. Now our country is in the worst shape it's been in since the depression and we don't create jobs HERE?!  It's been over 10 years! Where's Rosey the Riveter?  MADE IN THE USA has been traded for Made in China, or some third world nation. I will never understand that. Feed your family...then feed the world.

Every time I see a person in uniform I take the time to thank them for their service to our Country, AMERICA! I don't care if you are the most ardent anti-war protester on the planet. They fight for your right to speak out. They protect your FREEDOM! Take the time to say thanks for doing, WHAT YOU COULDN'T EVEN DREAM OF!

My Pop would have fought for this country at age 80, in his pajamas. I feel the same way. Thank you to the men and women who proudly serve in the ARMY, NAVY, AIR FORCE, MARINES, U.S. COAST GUARD, and all the RESERVE UNITS. You guys miss time with your families, while I enjoy mine. You eat in tents, while I wonder where I should eat. You die...to protect...Me. Thank you is a gross understatement for the gratitude I have for what you do. You are AMERICAN MADE! On Memorial Day when you're cooking hot dog,s and sucking back suds, take time to give thanks for those who make those good times possible. If a vet needs a hand...give him two. If you are anti-war, thank the man for giving you the right to speak out about hating it....
GOD BLESS YOU ALL! I miss ya Pop....

NOTE TO THE GOVERNMENT: The men and women who protect and serve the greatest nation in the world NEED to be taken care of when they return!  PERIOD! I see too many KIDS with addiction and PTSD issues in recovery. I see yet others wandering the streets in oblivion. Open up the coffers and pay them back for what they gave DEARLY and FREELY to protect us!
They paid their dues...Pay them back with your interest....

The Navy, One Brief Chapter and a Tribute to Those Who Fight for Freedom.

Shortly before turning 40 in 2004 I joined the United States Naval Reserves, based out of Great Lakes Naval Station, Great Lakes, Illinois. Assigned to command NPSTRU 1326, Unit 87740, I came in at a Rank of SA(SN). The unit is made up of men and women who did not serve in the NAVY or RESERVE. Once you are trained you are attached to a unit and the ships, bullets and wars are the same. I had almost joined the Army at 18 but my family convinced me to try college first. At forty the Navy was the only branch that took an enlisting man of my age. This has changed as the wars of Iraq and Afghanistan have stretched the regular troops and Guard thin.

I scored very high on my ASVAB test and rushed for entry. I was not attached to a specific job specialty as my test score was so high. I went in general classification. I was in the complete grip of my over indulgence for booze and depression and was hammered when I signed on the line for Uncle Sam. My recruiter was a good man. His job is to recruit sailors, not smell their breath. I answered his questions honestly about the many broken bones, mishaps and dark spots I had encountered along the way to that day. He helped me fill out the paperwork in an acceptably worded manner.

I was in no physical or psychological shape to be a sailor. My heart was! I was not pro-war. In fact I was anti-war and pro-freedom. I do love America! At that time I thought we were spending too much treasure on Iraq and not enough on Afghanistan. After all, that is where those responsible for the 911 attack had come from. I also knew that there was oil and strategic advantages to a war in Iraq. That is one of the sad facts of war. They are fought for ideals and additional contingencies. No matter what you think about it, we all like to drive cars and Iraq is right next to Iran, a genuine threat under the current regime. I was joining to help protect the freedom of my son's sons.

I reported and was thrown head first into military life. Most of the officers were younger than me. A few of them saluted me thinking I was an officer in my Civies. The base was like a self contained town. You didn't need to leave the gated area to find a pizza, bowling alley, bar or a bottle. I found a few of those. They put you up in hotel-like rooms instead of barracks for monthly training. I would drink enough to get my nerves satisfied but not too much that I couldn't handle PT or classroom study the next day.

Running was almost impossible. I have broken my right ankle 3 times and my left knee is shot from sports. My panic attacks were occurring regularly and I was realizing that although my patriotism was that of a 25 year old, my body was that of a 50 plus year old. That was due to the abuse I had put it through. I stuck it out for a year. At some point along the way I realized I could not handle it physically or emotionally. I also didn't want to put a brother sailor or soldier at risk because I wasn't up for the mission and was falling apart upstairs and downstairs.

I called my recruiter and explained that the ankle and physical ailments that plagued me were really taking a toll on me. The unit allowed for an administrative separation. It broke my heart. I am still technically under contract until April of 2012. This is the first time I have really spoken or wrote in detail about the experience. For a long time I felt like a failure, like I let my country down by not being able to cut it.

I know if I had been more forthright in my application they never would have taken me in the first place. To this day I am still uncertain if I am supposed to check off "veteran" or "military service" on applications. I have never tried to take advantage of any program the government offers veterans because I did not complete my contract. I left the service "honorably" by the paperwork but not by my "code book."

I am proud of that year now. I owe it to Fred Tormey, a high school friend, former U.S. Marine and current Arizona police officer. I still gave a year. I still gave it my best for that year. I took a risk that many will not or could not. My family thought I was nuts. My wife knows how I feel about this country now and forever. America is the greatest place on Earth. Our freedoms can lead us down some destructive paths but we are free. I can write this book. I can go where I please. I have the right to be me.

In my year I learned why guys re-up and go back for another tour in Hell after they just got out of it. They have left family there, dead and alive. When you are with your unit, your family becomes everyone in the units' family and vice-versa. You literally have each others backs. When one falls or leaves it creates a break in the chain that makes it feel strange or wrong for a while. I never saw action but I did see the brotherhood.

Do me a favor, not just this weekend. I do this every time I see a Vet. I don't care if you hate war. If you like your freedom, Starbucks and the right to say f**k the president, then follow my instructions. Pass this on to your kids. When you see a Vet, walk up to them no matter how young or old they are and say "Thank you for serving our country." That will mean a lot to them. Shake their hand and feel the rough grip of war. Look into the tired eyes of combat. Stop and realize that these fine young men and women are part of an all VOLUNTEER military. They are part of the greatest fighting force protecting the FREEDOM of not only the USA, but giving hope to millions around the world.

God Bless America and the World.