A Handsome Prince, The Love of the Lyons and Beautiful Queen Misty!

At midnight, my son Scott turned 16. I call him Bro, he calls me Da. He has a father named Bill and a Da named Tommy. I am very proud of him. That sentence is really pretty stupid! It's like saying a rainbow is pretty. My son is funny, good to his mom and sisters, respectful and a laundry list of the things that make a man a good man. Happy Birthday Bro. I love you. One of the most humbling and gratifying moments of my early sobriety was on my first 
anniversary when my SON took me to the side and said he was proud of me. The world says that speech is supposed to go the other way around, but I'll take it.

Lately, my passion has been reduced to a pilot light, due to life and the things life does to all of us. All along I have stated that there are no coincidences, as far as I'm concerned. We are all a part of a grand chess match that the great creator plays out daily in our lives using events and people to create our next move in the game. My passion was rekindled today.
I've always said that if I help one person avoid or get through the agony of self destruction, self abuse and self hate I went through for 20 plus years, it wasn't a life lived in vain. Today I found out it wasn't lived in vain. One down and I hope many more to go. A friend reached out to me in a message saying I gave her strength through my honesty. She gave me passion to write again and tears of joy flowed with inspiration from hearing her story. Don't you see the chess game? God moved her pawn in front of my rook today just when I needed it. I cried. It felt good letting off some of the steam of being me. She gave me permission to share this story. It is true but not told in her words.

In Mokena there were jocks, rockers and geeks. I was all three because I had 3 parties to go to, but was kind of a straight. Kerry Lyons was a rocker. We were friends. I remember her most starting freshman year of high school. She had great teeth, an amazing smile and a quick sense of humor. We didn't hang out but were always comfortable together when we were around each other. I know I hit on her because she was a "fox" in 80's lingo, but she just laughed at me. I pretty much hit on the whole town of Mokena that was female! She was always in a great mood and I really liked her, like a friend.

After high school Kerry got a job in the family business and got a party pad with Kim Martin, another old Mokena friend, and life was starting out pretty good. The work was steady, she was with the family. It was party hearty on the weekend. I was away at college getting arrested and doing LSD thinking I was going to write the next Tolkien series. Soon Kerry met prince charming. He was handsome, well respected, had a great gig and it seemed like they were on the road to the "American Dream." By now Kerry had begun working with kids with disabilities and other mental challenges. Between the two of them they were doing life right.

They bought a cottage in Wisconsin, so it was work, work, work all week and then shoot up to the summer digs in cheese land on the weekends. A little booze and beer, some weed, nothing too crazy. Then it was back to work 
Monday to start all over again. The marriage was great. They had friendship, love, comfort and it seemed like God had dealt them straight aces. But it's not cards, it's chess remember?

On a weekend, 8 days before their 2nd wedding anniversary, Kerry's husband was killed on the way home from the Wisconsin summer home. She had decided to stay home and do laundry. God changed the game for both of them and one more forever that weekend, not counting the many more lives he had touched.

More than 2000 people attended Kerry's husband's funeral. Hundreds of motorcycles and police escorted him to his final resting place, a reflection of what a truly respected and decent man he was to those who knew him or knew of him. Family, friends and loved ones comforted Kerry for a month, then came the crushing sound of silence and isolation. Being a hard working responsible man, her husband left behind a tidy sum of money to keep Kerry going. It wasn't long before she was REALLY going! Anyone who has been drunk does it for the instant relaxation, the freedom from fear and the escape from reality. In a healthy environment and clear state of mind, that is a fun and a common release. In a time of guilt, loss, emptiness and self-loathing it can set up a time bomb.

Soon Ms. K was downing a fifth of brandy a day to even out the copious amounts of cocaine that fueled the nightly parties. Big payouts bring out the zombies and hangers-on that stay around as long as there is a party, some booze, or dope or money to keep things going. When those things go, so do they. Kerry was spinning out of control and didn't know where to turn. She spent her nights trying to get high enough to finish the job permanently and join her prince and dreading the mornings waking up to see that she hadn't completed her mission. She had faith in God, but with the loss of her husband, the questions of why were pounding in her mind and soul.

Kerry continued to party, but less so, and some friends who were involved in Easter Seals introduced her to a young princess named Misty. She visited the fair princess who was the product of the fostering system on a few occasions. She was still hurting but drawn to this beautiful girl who suffered from serious learning and physical disabilities. Why did she keep going to see her? She couldn't answer the question herself. God was moving in for check mate.

After several visits Kerry decided to take the beautiful Princess Misty home with her. She was still struggling with her own demons. Misty was 2. Her mother gave birth to her drunk and high on angel dust. She was an IV Heroin user. Sweet Misty was born a Junkie. While Misty struggled with her new life, and physical and special needs learning challenges, Kerry began to see things differently in the chess game God laid before her. One night, while the now Queen Misty slept, Kerry questioned her ability as a mother, but knew she would not be an addict like Misty's birth mother. In recovery we call this a "spiritual experience."

Kerry weened off the poisons she was killing herself with an inch at a time, WITH THE HELP OF A FRIEND. She reached out for help and it was there. She worked it a day at a time as both mother and sober person. Queen Misty was soon reevaluated as "normal" and moved to regular classes. She went from the short bus to the long one. Kerry began to work with others in need of help in recovery and assist with special needs children. The love of this mother Lyons was fierce in her pride.

Through the love of a kind, patient, sober mother and gracious God and a fearless hard working daughter, Queen Misty graduated Valedictorian of her grammar school, graduated from Providence Catholic in New Lenox and now attends Illinois State University. She is studying to be a speech pathologist. The death of Kerry's husband is impossible for me to comprehend. To endure that and then turn around and take on the responsibilities of motherhood are mind blowing. She could have fallen apart and given into addiction and just melted into nothingness. She could have just shuffled through life in a fog. But she didn't. She jumped back in and did so with two feet and fists flying. She saved a child and a child saved her. Throw in the fact that the child was severely challenged, mentally and physically, seems like a storybook.

The happy ending to this story is not a fairy tale. It all came true and Queen Misty is passing on more of God's grace to those in need through her career choice in speech pathology. I cried when Kerry told me this story today. I am proud to call her my friend. I hope to meet Queen Misty soon. I have never met royalty. The problem with life is when we try to figure out God. It's like trying to measure the sky with our thumb and our pointer finger. It can't be done. Kerry, you are full of Lyons! Misty, you are a queen! I am honored to be court jester in such a noble kingdom. Thank you for sharing your story and making this world a better place for all of us. Every day is a gift!

We're Adopting a Baby!

This chapter will not hit much on my addiction but it does reinforce my recovery. This is the story of our 4 adopted children and what they went through before they got to us. Squeaky and I have no biological children together, so the four I talk about here are "our" children. One has passed on, and three remain.

Moving clockwise from the top is our first baby, Fabian, a black lab. He was adopted at 6 months and is now almost 12. He was a stray. Cooter, the yellow lab, was an adoption from my in-laws, and we gratefully took over her care after they decided she was too much for them. She is almost 12. Gracie, or as I call her, Lyndsay Lohan, is the newest addition to the family and is 3. Her story is below.



Ruby, our black pug, was adopted by us in 2005. She was 4 when we got her. She was from a suburban puppy mill where she was locked in a cage for 23 hours a day. She was let out 1 hour a day to breed, eat and go to the bathroom. When we got her my wife said she couldn't tell her front from her back. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She passed away 7-27-10. We were lucky enough to have her for 5 years. She passed at 9. The strain of multiple births took its' toll on her. She was my best friend ever and her ashes sit with her dog collar a few feet from where I write this.



Gracie is our newest addition She is a Pekingese/Shiatsu and was adopted 5/10. She  was found in an abandoned home. She was discovered during a "well being check" of the cute suburban house that doubled as a puppy mill. After delivering her valuable puppies, the owners sewed her up roughly and left her to die.




I have often called our home "the island of misfit toys." It is a reference to the "special" toys left unwanted in the Rudolph claymation classic film that I saw over and over as a boy. We take these animals in because they have been neglected, forgotten, abused or a burden for the owner. Being a little off myself, I felt closer to these misfits.

Because I felt as though I was a misfit, I feel for them. My dream is to own a sanctuary somewhere out west with lots of land where all the animals I can handle can live their lives out in peace and love on my ranch. It will, in fact, be called "The Island of Misfit Toys Ranch." This will happen. These are not ramblings and mushy dreams. I have a great passion for these unwanted companions.

Next time you drive through the suburbs take a look at all the signs for designer dogs. There's pocket Yorkies and Frenchies, Pekapoos and ding dong dingers. The signs fill the streets of our tiny neighborhood. They easily equal the number of garage sale signs that are staked out in yards left and right. These designer dogs bring big money to the inexperienced breeder. Do you really think that all those breeders are certified and associated with a veterinarian? Is their dedication for the well being of the animals or how much money they can make?

Common sense will answer the question for you. I am not trying to create guilt if you have gotten your pet from a reputable breeder but I am referring to the online "Do-It-Yourself, Breeding For Dummies" type. In all honesty, I bought a pure bred Poodle puppy from one of these neatly disguised puppy factories and had to give her up to a no-kill shelter. She had some mental defects that made it impossible for us to keep her. A seller tries to move product. A reputable breeder would have seen that the pup was not well and taken proper actions in the interest of the animal, not the profits.

Before you run out and buy from these people check your local shelters first. Fabian is a loyal obedient Lab we got from the Downers Grove Humane Society. Ruby came directly from a puppy factory where she shot out litter after litter of Puggles. Gracie's story broke our heart and we got her from PAWS in Tinley Park. Buying a dog or cat is not like picking a shirt out of a window at a local boutique.

If there is a specific type of dog you are looking for, from Pugs to Yorkies, there are foster groups who take in specific breeds, and adopt them out properly. Remember, these animals are going to sleep next to you and your children. Go online and check it out. You can google these fostering groups and you will be be amazed at the amount of information and resources you find. It may take a little extra time, but you are doing yourself and the animal a favor by going this route.

Before you run to "Dogs-R-Us" check out your local shelter and humane society. These animals are usually house broken and well trained. They are just hungry for love. There are also a variety of special needs animals and older animals that require special people to take them home. To those of you who do, thank you for doing a good thing.

I love animals, except bats, and their love for us is unconditional. You can scold them in the morning for chewing up the newspaper and they have forgotten it by the time you return home from work. Try yelling at the wife, and see if she is wiggling her tail when you get home that evening. Take some time in getting your pet, like buying a house or car. There are a lot of sad stories like the one's I have told about Ruby and Grace. Some of the stories are much worse. Ruby and Grace's story has a happy ending for both them and us. Take some time and think about it when you are looking for your next family companion.