Happy Summer!! Goodbye to a Faithful Feline and Hello to a New Job!

This will be a very fast update, with details to follow later in the week. Things have been hopping since my last update. Some events have been wonderful, but one in particular was very sad.

We had to say goodbye to our beloved cat Sylvester. He was nearly 17 years old and was in a great deal of pain. On 7 June, Justin bravely took him to the vet and he was put to rest. We all said good bye and I know, I know, it's a cat we're talking about, but Sylvester wasn't just any cat. To know Sylvester was to love him. We knew him and we adored everything about him.

It still seems so odd not seeing him around here, but he's not suffering now. Sylvester was our first cat, and joined us when he "chose" Katie as she and I visited a pet shop in El Paso, Texas. He was a gentle, smart, social and very kind feline. He convinced me that I wasn't simply a "dog" person, as I had erroneously and originally thought prior to meeting him. I was so sure I didn't like cats at all, but Sylvester enlightened me and gently taught me otherwise. Sylvester, in his own characteristically understated manner, changed my life. I loved him. We all did. With every soft purr, kneading motion of his paws and slow caresses on our ankles as he'd make contact with us, we knew he loved us right back. Gosh, I miss him that cat.

I need to send out a special thank you to three people with regard to Sylvester. Katie, thank you so much for talking me into adopting him back in Texas. You and Sylvester were so right - I was a cat person and he was destined to become part of our family. I know you loved him and he enjoyed watching you grow up, as the rest of us have. You were such a kind and faithful companion to him. I know you maintained such a special place in his heart.

I also must mention Stephanie. Steph, thank you so very much for tending to him in his final months. You were kind, compassionate and so sensitive to his physical and emotional needs and pain. You went far beyond the call of duty and I know he loved you for it. I know it was especially hard for you and I understand you had a very strong bond with him. Your care allowed him some extra pain-free months and you should be proud of that. We're very grateful to you and pleased that you are part of our family. You know, Steph, we miss you, too. You can come around and visit even when your boyfriend is at work or busy. This is still your home, too, kiddo.

And finally but by no means last, a special thanks to my Dad, who is the keeper of the litterbox. What a thankless job, but you sure are dependable! Thank you for all of your housekeeping duties. Also, thanks for taking extra care with Felix during this transition. I know he's become quite attached to you. Princess may have lost her husband, but Felix lost his best friend, and he's trying to deal with that so I know he loves every extra minute he spends on your lap while you work on the computer. I think you have a new best friend! Felix has great taste, obviously.

After the passing of Sylvester, Justin returned to the house and took Princess to live with him at his place. He felt that she should be with him, now that her husband was gone. Sylvester and Princess were adopted six weeks apart, so their bond was deep and intertwined. I'm sure Princess is enjoying living with her "father", and I know Justin and Stephanie are taking great care of her. And yes, Princess will be moving to Charleston, WV late next month when Justin joins his Dad in his new business venture.

Two weeks ago I received a call to interview for a new position in a completely different industry. I went to the first interview and met three very nice men who took turns asking me a lot of questions as they perused my resume. Later that evening, they invited me to a second interview the next morning. Fortunately, that went pretty well, too, and within two hours, my new employer rang my cell phone and offered me the position. I officially start on 1 July and I'm looking forward to it. I will be heading to Greenville, South Carolina on 30 June for three days of training, as this is where the company is headquartered. I'll return to Wilmington on 3 July, which will be a very special day because it will be my parents 62nd wedding anniversary. There is just so very much to celebrate and I'm grateful for all of it!

Of course, as excited and thrilled as I am with my new position in a few days, it will be difficult leaving my present one. I have enjoyed working with Sherry so very much. We have had so much fun most days that it hardly qualified as work. Sherry has taught me a great deal and spending my days with her has been a very special time for me. We can nearly finish each others sentences and not a day goes by that doesn't find us laughing about all manner of occurrences in our work days. Though I will no longer be working with her, we have made a serious pact to stay in touch on a daily basis and she has promised to keep me informed as to the more curious things that happen at work. Besides, she won't be completely rid of me. I have agreed to continue to install the SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) ankle bracelets and will see clients and do installations on Saturdays. I find it hard to make a complete break because I enjoy working with our clients. Anyway, working with Sherry one day a week will make it easier for us to keep a weekly lunch date and really catch up with each other.

Finally, I am happy to report that the swimming pool repairs have been made and it is holding water well! It's being chemically shocked right now, but the major repair has been completed and I can't wait to take my first dip in it which will hopefully be later this week. It's SUMMER - and that means flips in the pool! I will be so excited to literally be "back in the swim" of things. Hey, it's skinny-dipping season!

By the way, I was given a brand-spanking new copy of the "hot off the presses" latest edition of "Insider's Guide - North Carolina's Southern Coast and Wilmington" by its esteemed publisher (and all around nice person), Jay Tervo. If you haven't acquired one yet, treat yourself to a copy. It's beautifully turned out and brimming with information, tips and facts for both tourists and even locals will learn a thing or three about the town we are privileged to call "home".

It's so strange to be writing these days. I've had scant time to really pen much of anything though my mind has been swirling with a million details, observances, thoughts and feelings. Lately, it seems like with so much going on, I find I'm keeping more and more things to myself. So many huge changes are taking place in my life right now - in all of our lives, in fact. My son is preparing to move to West Virginia at the end of July. My daughter has been happily ensconced in Manhattan for over two years. We're now two cats short and this house seems to be growing in size and echoing in silence. Not too many years ago, there was always noise, music, chatter, comings and goings of my son and daughter and their posse of friends. I remember summers filled with the sounds of my son and his buddies on their skateboards in the driveway. I'd peer out the window every ten minutes or so, wondering if I might need to make a quick run to the emergency room because someone didn't land properly as they surfed on the concrete. It's just so quiet now.

It's almost too quiet. The air is stilled as we slowly grope our way through new transitions, the ones where teenagers are now twenty-somethings who grow up and move into new adventures which predictably take them far from this house, but never, ever far from our thoughts, prayers and hearts. I guess on an intellectual level, you always know the time will come when they grow up and become admirably independent, and I am absolutely proud that they have. I'm also grateful for so many lively memories from raising these two offspring of mine, but lurking just beneath my pride and awe, is a lingering whisper of a wish that I could do it all again and again and again. These transitions take some acclimatization, I suppose, and the key feature to any acclimatization is the passage of time. I'm sure we'll get our sea legs soon, but some evenings, I miss Katie and Justin so much that it literally defies description and words are rendered useless; literally inadequate. Maybe that's why I find it so hard to write lately. The translation of the depth and sheer force of these feelings into mere words is difficult.

I guess growing up gets tougher with age. Separation anxiety can strike without warning. Thank goodness for e-mail and cell phones and particularly unlimited mobile-to-mobile minutes.

I'm still keeping a keen eye out for a sailor - if you see one with a nice boat who's in the market for a crazy, wild-haired, adventurous first mate, send him my way. But only if he's nearly perfect, great looking, sane, financially secure, interesting, brilliant, youthful and skilled. I don't think I'm really asking for too much...just something reasonably close to almost perfect.

Karen...Bobbi...I hate to put pressure on you both, but we're in late June now. What's the hold up, ladies? Shouldn't you both have "e-maled" me some prospective resumes by now? No rush...just hurry!

It's About Time...And A No-Nonsense Celebrity Endoresement...

...for a quick update!

Spring is in full bloom here on the coast - and I couldn't be happier. We are gently sliding into my favorite of all seasons - hot, humid, bright, shiny SUMMER! Yeah, baby!

Next week will be a busy one.

But first, some BREAKING POLITICAL NEWS!!!!

Check out this video: Beware: Celebrity Endorsement







OK, so I love Tom Hanks. I thought this was a very respectable, no frills, well-done endorsement that nearly slid beneath the radar. North Carolina's Primary is this Tuesday, 6 May, and it will be interesting, to say the least, to see how the two democratic candidates fare in this southern state that I call home. I have my own preferences on how I would like to see things shake out and I am cautiously optimistic, but in this primary season that has proven to have more twists and turns than a mountain road in West Virginia, nothing is a sure thing. I'll be glued to MSNBC this Tuesday Evening and will probably be engaged in swapping text-messages with my daughter as she watches from her home on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have more than our usual lunch-hour catch up call. I even have dinner decided for that night - I'm going to stop on my way home from work and order a mansion salad with blackened mahi-mahi and two servings of blue-cheese vinaigrette dressing to go. Of course, there will be coffee and probably a quart of jasmine iced tea to go along with it. Tuesday is already shaping up to be a real nail-biter.

But back to news closer to home...

On Wednesday, my son moves into his first apartment. I already miss him but, let's be realistic, it's only two miles away so hopefully it won't be TOO traumatic for me. As for Justin, he's way past excited.

We had a nice lunch today at Henry's and during the course of our meal, I acquiesced the love seat which currently sits in my office (at home) in exchange for his agreeing to take Sylvester and Princess with him to live in his new apartment. So not only will I be out of kids, but my cat population will be cut in half. I'll still have Magellan and Felix and, of course, my big, blond dog Cassie. And of course, with five aquariums, I'll have PLENTY of fish, however, Justin casually mentioned that an aquarium would make a nice housewarming gift. I think there was a hint in there somewhere.

On Friday, 9 May, I will drive to Fayetteville and collect my Manhattan-based daughter, KATIE! She's riding the rail (Amtrack) for a week-long visit. I have been put on notice not to arrive unless there is a LARGE, fresh sweet southern iced tea in the car. Since I don't like to live dangerously, the tea will be ready for her when she arrives. I just can't wait to see her! We're all excited!

How Katie can stand to be on a train for eight hours is beyond my comprehension. She loves "train people". She tells me they're a great group - all of them members of her "I hate flying" club. Nevermind that she could be in Wilmington, on a direct flight from La Guardia, in about an hour and thirty minutes and actually be sitting in our kitchen drinking FRESH iced tea in the time it takes that silly train to get from Penn Station to Philadelphia. I no longer even make a case for how the trip from the airport here in Wilmington is about fifteen minutes (even in Wilmington traffic!), and that the dull trip from Fayetteville to Wilmington is a whopping two hours of some of the dullest scenery I've ever been witness to. Factor in that Amtrack is rarely on time - she herself coined it quite colorfully, "A railroad of lies", due to it's inability to stay on schedule. That matters nothing to Miss Katie. As a card-carrying member of the "Infrequent Flyers Club", she only goes "wheels up" when there is no other alternative, as she will do later this summer when she and John fly to Paris for a week's vacation. But I guarantee you, if it were possible to ride a train through a tunnel beneath the Atlantic, Katie would be first in line for a ticket.

Of course, it doesn't really matter how she gets here or where I have to drive to collect her because, in the end, it's all about seeing Katie and having her in our midst for a glorious week. As I drive to Fayetteville Friday Afternoon, I will remind myself that the trip back to Wilmington will be far more interesting with her delightful and ascerbic company and I'm sure we'll sing to her iTunes, gossip, exchange news and views and, well, it doesn't get much better than that, so of course, I'll be right there in unlovely Fayetteville to meet her as she steps off that silly train and into my hug. Even with gas currently topping out at $3.60/gallon, she's more than worth a tank of liquid gold. You can bet everything you own that I'll be more than thrilled to be her chauffeur.

On Sunday, 11 May, Tim will be coming down and he will be able to see both kids at the same time in the same place! I guess it will be a family reunion of sorts. He will be staying at Justin's new apartment and Justin's excited to host his first house guest. I know both kids will enjoy catching up with their dad.

As for me, I have been working, working and WORKING and loving it. Sherry and I have been moving furniture, rearranging desks, hanging art and making the office feel more casual and down right beachy! Yes, it's still a drug and alcohol assessment office, but it feels more "fun" and while most of our clients are never happy to find themselves forced to consent to a clinical evaluation of their substance abuse, we really do try and make it as painless as possible. I'm lobbying for the addition of an aquarium to the waiting room. I think I'm wearing Sherry down (and plying her with chocolate) so it could happen.

I am happy to announce that I have health insurance! Thanks to Vicki, who patiently steered me toward the best choice, I can now afford to get sick and/or injured, but she advised against it. Even with health insurance, she felt it's still best never to have to make use of it and, quite frankly, I have to agree with her. But I do have to tell you, it's one less thing to worry about at night right before I fall asleep - wondering how I'm going to afford some looming catastrophic illness without health insurance. I'm so blessed that David C. steered me to Vicki. She's been so fun and wonderful to visit with during our many conversations, and several sets of phone tag, that not only did I find a trustworthy broker, but I made a new friend in the process. Not a bad deal at all!

In other medical news, my mother is still in the midst of testing, evaluations and attending various appointments to determine the best course of action for her degenerating spine but, in between all of that, she still has managed to keep fresh iced tea at the ready and there's always wonderful food in the kitchen. I guess it's true that you just can't keep a good woman down. My mother is not only a good woman, but a dynamo. I hope it's genetic.

My father has been busy working on the lawn and the yard looks like velvet. He replaced a couple of sprinkler heads, with the assist from our wonderful neighbor Tom, and so now the sprinklers are back in action and spraying in the right direction, at the right time. I also have a pool specialist trying to find the source of the leak in our pool so hopefully it won't be too long before that problem is taken care of and I'm so ready for a nice long swim.

No luck yet on finding a nice sailboat that comes equipped with a knowledgeable, handsome captain, but hey, it's early in the season. I'm keeping my eyes open and you never know when the right boat might come along. I remain optimistic.

So that's what's been going on in our neck of the woods. I wish I could tell you that I had found the perfect man and been on a string of dazzling dates, but the truth is, my life has consisted of working and tinkering with my aquariums. I haven't even managed to do any real writing in the past few weeks. I have, however, found time to enjoy some fun lunches with friends, make some great AA meetings recently, and I always love meeting our clients.

Actually, I feel so blessed. For the first time in something like FOREVER, even at the end of a long day, I come out feeling so amazed I get to work with a wonderful woman who teaches me something new every single day, and there is this deep sense of peace because I truly do believe that the work we do means something. It's a sense of satisfaction I've never really known before, but for as painful as it often is to have to confront diseases of addiction, miracles can, and do, happen. Seeds are planted.

The clients I see after attending 20 or 40 hours of treatment are often vastly changed from the downcast folks who arrive in our office for their substance abuse assessment and prepare to attend, generally with much trepidation, their first class. Smiles appear and people share during our group sessions of positive changes and they report to us some of the early gifts that living sober can and does deliver. For many of these people, it is essentially a life or death proposition. No one is hopeless. Miracles are possible and probable if we stay the course. Love is a powerful force and in some form or fashion, this is illustrated to me every single day. What a gift. What an abundant, priceless gift.

Bar (N)one - Hillary Rises To A New Low

Hey Hillary - the regular people just called. Sorry hon, you didn't make the cut, but not for a lack of giving it a sporting, college try. But it's not all bad news - you're still a top contender for the Darwin Awards. Keep your chin up and keep chugging.

Hillary Clinton likes to play games. This past Saturday Night, she played the ever popular "I'm a 'regular person'" primary game, with a bunch of guys at a bar in Indiana". She gave a vivid depiction of a desperate adult caving into peer pressure, not wanting to disappoint the folks gathered round her, chanting in unison, "Hillary! Hillary! Hillary", in typical "Animal House" style.

There was, of course, a positive in all this. Upon closer inspection of the photo, it appears Ms. Clinton is wearing an American Flag lapel pin, so now we know something more about her than we did prior to this alcathon: Even when she's engaged in frivolous festivities, hanging out with the regular guys, she's patriotic about it and I don't know about you, but I believe this is cause for all of us to sleep a little better at night.

Kind of makes you extra proud to be an American doesn't it? Indeed.

I found myself embarrassed for her, which is a far cry from being inspired. There is nothing to admire. There is also no excuse.

She really should know better. She had it all wrong. Most "regular people" don't behave as she did on any given Saturday Night. I bet with a little cajoling by the crowd, they could have easily enticed her into popping off her pantsuit, which might have earned her footage on the next series of "Girls Gone Wild" videos (or would it be "Old Women Gone Ornery", given the AARP affiliation?)

Thankfully, that didn't happen. However, I would wager that if an uncommitted superdelegate had teased her to go topless, that blazer would have been history faster than any of us could say, "I can't drink you pretty".

I fear for West Virginia and North Carolina when she "hits" those states. There are active "white lightning" stills in them thar mountains and goodness knows they love their guns...I can just picture her kicking back with moonshine and trading Bosnian war stories, sitting with the boys on the bank up some creek without a paddle.

Does anyone know where the fat lady lives? It's long past time for her aria.

Hillary, there is no inspiration to be found in your newly debuted barroom broad fantasy. You laid yourself out as a glowing example of a very cheap one. You must be so proud, you regular person you.

I mean, we just don't have enough high-profile politicians willing to take the time on a Saturday Night in order to show us "regular people" how to do shots and behave like an ass, do we? There's nothing like a public display of someone folding to peer pressure.

Watching Hillary Clinton casually knock back a shot of whiskey followed by a beer chaser only confirmed for me what I always knew to be true: this woman would do anything to elicit a vote. I found her barroom behavior offensive, inappropriate and wildly undignified.

Hey, Hillary Clinton does shots, so it must be OK, right? Is this her answer to "anti-elitism"? And also, who picked up the tab? According to your recently released tax returns, you could more than afford it, but you probably wouldn't want to offend any of your new "regular people" homies. Best not to flaunt too much of that pocket change.

Wrong. Horribly wrong. Unconscionable. Despicable. Sick. Unfit for print and too pathetic for publication.

Ms. Clinton was not engaging in social drinking - she cranked it up a notch, as only she can. Ms. Clinton was "social-binging". Way to go, Hillary. What a fine example you set for every young person unfortunate enough to have caught a glimpse of your Saturday Night antics when you bellied up to the bar.

Hillary has transformed herself from the subject of a "Saturday Night Live" skit, into a real-time, real-person joke. Only she's not very funny. Just mostly pathetic with an extra dollop of offensive for good measure.

I guess anything goes and quite frankly, I wish she would. Go. Like yesterday.

Check out this article on the Huffington Post. I was pleased to find that I wasn't the only person disgusted by Ms. Clinton's inexcusable behavior The Huffington Post - "Clinton Downs a Beer and a Bump To Impress the Cool Kids and This Dad's Not OK With That".

Just when I'm sure it's impossible to think less of this woman, she goes and does something that, quite literally in this case, lowers the bar. This time, she managed to do it IN the bar. I hope the phone in whatever room she spent Saturday Night recovering in didn't ring at 3:00 AM because I can't imagine her head was in a very clear place. As for Ms. Clinton possessing anything resembling a social conscience, I can only surmise it must have bolted long before she bellied up to that bar.

Hillary Clinton gives "regular people" a bad name.

Four Years of Living Life One Day at a Time...

"Wake up Susie,
Put your shoes on,
Walk with me into this life...
Finally this morning,
I'm feeling whole again.
It was a helluva night...
Just to be with you, by my side.
Just to have you near, in my sight.
Just to walk a while, in this light.
Just to know that life goes on."

James Taylor wrote and performed that song, but I imagine it was exactly what God was inviting me to do on 11 January 2004. Thank God I finally heard this life-saving invitation and at the lowest point in my life, feeling completely beat to a pulp and completely out of options, something inside of me whispered that perhaps there was another way and maybe even "another day".

February 6, 1960 remains the date of my birth, the day I was given life. January 12th, 2004 is the day I was graciously afforded the amazing and precious chance to reclaim it. Not everyone gets a second chance. I never want to take that for granted. In many ways, January 12th is much more dear to me than February 6th.

It was a helluva night.

By all accounts, I should not even be alive to write this entry. I drove in a black out and somehow landed in the parking lot of a grocery store about a mile from my home. I have no recollection of the drive, but in the process, I somehow managed not to kill myself or anyone else who might have innocently been in my path. That fact alone is proof positive that God had taken over the steering of my car because I can't imagine how I made the drive from Wrightsville Beach to that parking lot and every single day of my life, I am so grateful that the only casualty was my neighbor's mailbox (it didn't survive). I have no memory of that either, but my friend Kathleen and I connected the dots and somehow it came to light that before landing in the parking lot of a nearby store, I must have made it home, turned around, and by some miracle made it to the parking lot of the closed store.

A few of the events of that night remain murky but one impossible to ignore fact is that I was in a very bad place and seriously sick. I have no idea how long I had been in that parking space, I was passed out over the steering wheel and though the car was in "park", it was still running. It was then that one of Wilmington's finest must have spotted the lone car parked with an idling engine and found me, knocking on the glass of my window, rousing me from my horrendously inebriated state.

My memories of what transpired after that are sketchy at best, but I wound up downtown at the police department and I was charged with a DUI and even though the policeman didn't catch me driving, the fact that the car was engaged was enough to earn a ticket I so richly deserved. As that long night progressed, I took advantage of my "one phone call" and for some reason, I called my neighbor across the street from my home, asking if he could come and pick me up. I have no idea how I came to choose him as my one designated call, but in my toxic reasoning, I felt it would be better than calling my parents because I didn't want to worry them. That's how twisted and irrational my reasoning was that night. As if they weren't going out of their minds wondering where in the world I was and how desperately frantic they must have been imagining only the worst possible scenarios. They had lost one daughter in May 1973 and I imagine that they were steeling themselves for the possibility that they may have just lost the other one. When I think of the anguish that my family went through that long night four years ago, I shudder and, as a parent, I can't imagine a worse way to spend a night.

My dad is a logical man and while I was busy downtown being booked with a DUI, he was calling the local hospitals, friends and finally, the police department to see if they knew anything about his missing and unaccounted for daughter. Fortunately, his call was answered by my arresting officer who told my Dad that he had strongly suggested I call my family, but he couldn't talk me into it. He relayed the information to my father that I was confused, disoriented, but still very much alive and that I would be free to leave in a couple of hours.

As dawn began to break on the cold Monday Morning of 12 January 2004, my father and the neighbor I had called earlier, arrived downtown at the police department at about the same time. I went home with my Dad who, upon seeing me, embraced me with a warm hug and was so completely thrilled and relieved that I was alive...maybe not in great shape, but alive. He told me that he loved me and I told him that I thought maybe I just might have a drinking problem. (You think???). My Dad told me that I would be OK and that he and my Mom and my son and daughter would help me any way that they could. There were no lectures on the trip back home. There were only expressions of relief and a well-spring of love, kindness and support. I didn't know much that foggy morning, but I knew that I wasn't alone and that no matter what the coming days might bring, the legal repercussions of my misguided behavior or the status of my impounded Buick, I did have the good sense to know that I was loved, unconditionally.

Three days later with as much fear as I've ever felt, my son drove me to my first AA meeting. I was beyond terrified. I knew nothing about the organization or what any of it was about. I come from a long line of teetotalers so this was foreign territory for all of us. I didn't know if AA could truly help me turn things around, but I was desperate enough to entertain the slightest possibility that there may be hope for me there. And thank God I was desperate and so frightened. I would never have sought assistance if I hadn't been. I needed to be knocked to my knees, it's the perfect position to begin a prayer. For me, it was also the best position from which to begin a life, as well.

Nearly on the brink of tears and feeling as shaky as I ever have, I walked into that meeting and I found a room full of smiling faces and hearty welcomes. I walked out one hour later with phone numbers and warm embraces from people who would play a pivotal role in my recovery. After just one hour, I emerged feeling as if I had finally found something that made sense. I walked in hopeless and I walked out with the priceless commodity of hope. At that point, I dearly needed hope.

In the past four years, I have made all manner of silly mistakes, stupid errors in judgment, some dreadfully bad decisions and I have faced some difficult situations. I've sailed through twelve hours in a roiling tropical storm and I've experienced a car wreck that completely totaled my car. It's been a busy four years! But the one thing I haven't done is felt the need or had the desire to take a drink. That's amazing and that's all God. That's a miracle.

This matter of "living life on life's terms" is challenging stuff! Recovery is a serious business because the disease of alcoholism is progressive and terminal, if left untreated. It's a deadly disease and we never arrive at a plateau where we who suffer from it are considered "well", but if we do a few simple things and follow the suggestions of the what I consider to be a divinely-inspired program, we can and do get better. Much, much better.

In my mind, "recovery" is a verb, a term of action, ongoing and, if I do the "next right thing", it's never-ending and that's one of the great things about it. At every meeting I attend, I see and hear from people who have relapsed, who have went "back out" and tried living in their old ways, and those are sobering moments for me because the point is driven home that I am only one drink away from the end of my life.

When I first joined AA, I couldn't imagine what kind of life lay before me that didn't include a glass of wine to get through a date, an evening alone, or a social gathering of any sort. What fun could there be in dining out? How would I make painful chit chat or appear "cool" without a glass of merlot in my hand? What joy was there left in this world? I imagined a life akin to that of being a nun and my transforming into the female equivalent of a monk. Surely people who didn't imbibe had to lead completely boring and colorless lives because there was nothing to break the ice, ease the tension and I wondered would I ever be able to laugh again? I knew I could never drink again, but I had it in my mind that my future looked bleak, colorless and without any joy and happiness and that I was evolving into a sad and boring existence, maybe something a librarian could deal with, but I didn't know how in the world I would find much excitement in the rest of the days of my life.

Fortunately for me, I was fabulously wrong. The idea of never drinking again for the next 30 or 40 years, if I happened to live that long, struck me as the most dismal prospect imaginable and I would become sad to consider the string of sober days ahead of me, with no buzz or mind-numbing elixir. As the haze of wine slowly lifted and I took in my new reality, it wasn't too long before I began to sense that rather than enhancing what I mistook for "a life", I had been making my way with a dulled sensibility. I couldn't see the forest. My vision was so obscured that I couldn't even make out the trees.

As I attended more and more meetings, found a wonderful sponsor and finally began getting serious about "working the steps", things began to happen. Life hadn't changed, because life didn't need to change. The change that took place came from the only place that it could and that was within me. As they often say, "it's an inside job" and my interior needed some serious revamping and major reconstruction. My life didn't transform overnight, and I learned to adopt a different method of measuring the mystical nature that is "time". "One Day at a Time" became my metronome, reliably ticking off the measure of my days and it's stood me well. This is a good thing - I needed recalibrating.

In my early days of attending meetings, I would often hear folks with many years in AA joyfully share how happy they were to be alcoholics and how their bottom became the springboard to a life worth living. I would look at these fine people and listen to them and wonder, "how could anyone possibly feel they were blessed to be an alcoholic?". Was it brain damage that sparked such nonsensical declarations? Mental disintegration? They looked sane and happy and completely normal but I couldn't help but wonder if they were out of their minds. I was sure I would never ever live long enough to feel happy about my status of being an alcoholic. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful to be alive and afforded a second chance, but I wasn't happy that I had landed myself in a 12-step group and while I was grateful for many things, alcoholism would never be one of them.

After four years of sobriety, I can unequivocally state without the slightest bit of hesitation or reservation that I am, completely and profoundly, happy to be a recovering alcoholic. My gosh, the blessings of these past four years, the connection with my Higher Power who, for me, is God, the ability to live my life with a measure of sanity I didn't know previously, and to know that, on good days and especially bad days, I am still a child of God and I am loved and cared for, watched over and protected, was worth every stumble I made to earn my seat at the table. I can't imagine how I ever lived "pre-AA" because that doesn't remotely resemble what is now my conception of living. Admitting my powerlessness, that my life had become unmanageable and willing it over to a power much greater than myself, is the kindest act I have ever taken for myself and I renew that admission of powerlessness on a daily basis.

Of the 47 years and eleven months I have been allowed the gift of this life, the past four years have been a period of intense growth, learning, understanding and offered more hope and inspiration on a very personal basis than I could have ever guessed was possible. In the days and weeks following 11 January 2004, I was sure that would forever be a date I would consider to mark the darkest and most painful day in my life and certainly nothing to celebrate but now I know it was the day that I was truly saved from myself and lead away from the wreckage that made up my life. This is a day of gratitude, thanksgiving and an occasion to reiterate my thanks to my family, my friends and most of all God for taking another chance on me. It is a day to celebrate the most precious gift I was ever allowed. It is a day of hope and joy and a study in unmerited grace; a reason to look forward to a future with the hope of lots of days to be spent at the doable rate of, one day at a time.

I am so very glad I woke up, walked into the LIGHT, and eternally grateful that I finally found my way. To my precious family (Barbe, Maxine, Katie and Justin), my cadre of crazy friends, Officer Locklear (for being the catalyst of change), Hearing Officer J. Stewart (for having faith in me and allowing me to get back behind the wheel), Peter at Monitech (for making me laugh every time I visit), Amy Hotz, (for the nice profile in the Wilmington Star), Erik Rhey (for feeding me so many interesting assignments for "PC Magazine" - this latest one takes the cake!), Glen Edelstein of Random House (for reminding me of the work that needs to be completed and delivered), and all of the angels who light my way on a daily basis and most of all, to God, I offer my deepest and most heartfelt appreciation for another year of magnificent miracles.

In case you missed my message, there IS life after putting down the bottle. That's the best part.

"Wake up Susie,
Put your shoes on,
Walk with me into this light.

Another night has gone.
Life goes on.
Another dawn is breaking.
Turn and face the sun.
One by one,
The world outside is waking.
Morning light is driven away
All the shadows that hide your way.
And night has given away, to the promise of another day...
Another day,
Another chance that we may finally find our way,
Another day,
The sun has begun to melt all my fears away...
Another day, another day.

Oh, wake up Susie,
Put your shoes on,
Walk with me into this light." ~ James Taylor, "Another Day"

Happy 21st Birthday Justin Ryan Parker...

"I love lilacs and avocados.
Ukeleles and fireworks,
Woody Allen and walking in the snow.
But you've got to know...

That you're the love of my life,
You are the love of my life
You are the love of my life
You are the love of my life!
From the moment I first saw you.
The second that you were born.
I knew that you were the love of my life,
Quite simply, the love of my life..."
~ Carly Simon


It started in Amarillo, Texas, on a Wednesday Night, 19 November 1986. I'd just eaten a piece of pumpkin pie and as soon as I put the fork down, my back started aching and it didn't stop until, two days later, Justin made his way into this world. This baby wasn't due for a week, but I guess he just couldn't wait and he was so bent on being a Scorpio that he got in right at the last minute, on the cusp. Justin did it his way. Justin's always done it his way. Justin is my son through and through.

There are about 1600 miles that separate Amarillo, Texas and Wilmington, North Carolina. Twenty-one years ago we celebrated his arrival at Northwest Texas Hospital in Amarillo. Last night we sat down to dinner at Henry's Restaurant, and celebrated his turning twenty-one. I adore this young man of mine. Many miles have been traveled and a great deal of history has been lived in those twenty-one years. What a crazy, wild ride.

Justin is the only authentic, genuine born and bred Texan in our family. His father, sister, grandparents and I were born in West Virginia and he's rather proud that he wasn't. Just like the state that produced him, I've always found him to be larger than life in so many ways.

He and I used to sing "You Are the Love of My Life" together in Florida. We would dance around the living room and hold hands and be silly and no lyrics ever rang truer, from where I twirled. We're hauntingly alike. We're both headstrong, obstinate and sometimes we hide behind a veil of shyness, but we always manage to get our point across and we seldom move from our most deeply-held positions, even when it's to our detriment.

He's twenty-one now. He's an adult. There will be joys ahead to celebrate and sometimes, hard, painful lessons to be learned. But on this night, the anniversary of my son's birth, I felt extreme, profound gratitude. This was a night to rejoice. And so we did.

I think about all that lies ahead at the tender age of twenty one. Remember how much you thought you knew and all that you've discovered since? As I consider my son, I honestly believe he's far better equipped with a brand of durable wisdom and savvy that I never knew at his age. There are times that it still takes me forever to pick up on things that should be blatantly obvious. I don't think that will quite be the case for him but, should it be so, I just hope he has angels circling who will pick him up when the need arises, as they have done for me so many times, and send him in a better direction. Good angels do that.

"You can drive me crazy.
You can drive me anywhere.
Here are the keys,
Just do as you please.
It may not always be easy..."

We've butted heads more than a few times. We've sparred, retreated to our corners, slammed a few doors and sneered now and again. Typical mother/son stuff. But deep inside, I believe there's always been a deep affection and there are still times that I look in his eyes and he can reduce me to a puddle, even when I'm absolutely irritated with him beyond belief. He'll flash a smile, fix me with those deep, cerulean blue eyes of his and, every now and then, I will completely forget why I'm so upset with him. Smart kid that he is, he uses this to his best advantage. Of course he does. Sometimes, I still fall for it.

The one thing I do know is that he is so very loved. He is adored. He is cherished, as is his sister, Katie. There are times I look at them and I can't believe how offbeat and eccentric they have turned out to be. These are not "cookie-cutter, Gap Kids", the kind I figured I'd wind up with. No, no, no, my son and daughter can both usually be found connected to an iPod, but they listen to a different tune. They've both become the ultimate in non-conformists. I couldn't be more pleased. I'd be so horribly bored if they'd turned into typical suburban kids and I don't think for one-second they ever really wanted June Cleaver for a Mom.

A couple of years ago, I was sitting in my home group AA meeting. The meeting had just started and "The Promises" had just been read. It was a very special day for me - the second anniversary of my sobriety - and on that day, at that meeting, I would pick up my two-year blue chip. Five minutes into the meeting, the door opened and, quietly, in walked Katie and Justin. I will never, ever forget that moment. I couldn't have been more surprised. They took seats beside me. They took time out of their hectic young lives to see their Mom pick up her two-year AA chip. Tears rolled down my eyes for the remainder of that meeting and I didn't even try to hide it. My heart was overflowing.

Nothing quite says, "I love you", like supporting your Mom on the anniversary of her second year in a twelve-step program that basically saved her life. It meant the absolute world to me. After my sponsor presented me with my precious blue chip and medallion, both kids rose up and hugged me tightly. It was a miracle in so many more ways than one. It was that brand of support that has made my life far richer than I could have ever imagined on the night of 11 January 2004. I can't envision a purer, more vivid display of love from these two. Pretty special, if you ask me. Uncommon. Love beyond measure.

I've been so privileged to watch Justin grow up and, in many ways, he's watched me grow up as well. We've both seen each other make hideously, ill-advised errors in judgment. We've seen each other stumble. I've bandaged knee-abrasions, nursed him through fevers and sat in many steam-filled bathrooms to loosen more bouts of croup and bronchitis than I can count. I've paced the floor through torturous ear-aching, scream-filled nights and when he was 3 years old and fell off his play horse, I talked him through lidocaine injections and tried to make him smile as his eyebrow was stitched up, the result of being bucked off a misbehaving, unruly, plastic horse. He took it like a champ, didn't shed a tear. I cried for half an hour after it was over.

For his part, he's offered me hugs when I was at the lowest possible point in my life, fresh from hitting a painful bottom that was inevitable and essential to my own recovery. He drove me to pick up the personal items out of my car following a DUI a few years ago.

When it came time to check into the treatment center a few weeks later, I asked Justin to drop me off. I was so scared, but I knew he would make me laugh and I needed that so desperately. He never once took a cheap shot at me during the low, difficult times. He sensed when I was struggling and he promised me I was still a mother he was proud to have and hearing those things gave me the courage and inestimable strength to move forward on especially dark days.

Justin has a well-spring of compassion which is deep and wide. Beneath a quiet, sometimes stoic facade, lies one of the most incredibly sensitive hearts I've ever known. He dips from it frequently, with gentle hugs and steady embraces. He loves his family and we love him right back.

We've had our moments and it's my dearest hope that we have lots more of them. We both know they won't all be easy, and a few will be contentious and difficult, probably even gut-wrenching, but that's OK, too. We've been through things like that and we know instinctively, courtesy of our shared experiences, that the bad times really do pass. As my parents have so beautifully taught us time and again by their stellar example, within a solid framework of love, consideration and understanding, we can work through whatever comes our way.

When I was involved in a car wreck this past August, I was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital beside my sweet Daddy, waiting to be called back, and within minutes after my Dad's arrival, I looked up to see Justin walking towards me with a large iced tea in one hand and an arm extended to embrace me with the other. I didn't even realize that he knew what had happened yet - I was still trying to wrap my mind around it - but he'd found out from my Mom and he and Stephanie took off in a flash to join me and sit with me in that waiting room. Being my son, he knew I needed a large iced tea, a smile and one of his hugs. He delivered brilliantly. Sitting there between my father and my son, I felt very blessed and dearly loved.

I've always found parenting to be more of an exchange than a unilateral transmission. Giving birth may place a baby in your hands, but it hardly confers instant knowledge and wisdom. I remember feeling so clueless and inept and blatantly confused on many occasions. I still do, sometimes. I've enjoyed raising my son and daughter so very much, but it's certainly not been a one-way street. They've been beside me through so many things and though I know I've made mistakes along the way, as all parents do, I can't help but believe I must have gotten a few things right because when I look at both Justin and Katie, I am blown away by the adults they have grown into.

I admire the way they handle life, rather than allowing life to handle them. They're both fiercely independent, opinionated, intelligent and funny individuals. I love how easily they find the humor in the most difficult and challenging of situations. They seem to have indomitable spirits and a keen sense of right and wrong. They are champions of those less fortunate - of the human, feline and canine variety and I adore that, too. Goodness knows, there was never any shortage of animals in our house as they've grown up and along with the ever-present influence of their doting grandparents, Pops and Granny, I know the seeds of love and kindness were borne from a strong, sturdy sense of family and love for all creatures great and small, even the ones that shed from time to time and have accidents on the carpet. Life is messy. It's really supposed to be.



















"But you are the love of my life,
My heart is riding on a runaway train.
You are the love of my life,
Through all the pleasure and pain.
From the moment I first saw you, I knew.
I knew it right away,
I knew that you were the love of my life,
Simply the love of my life.
You are the love,
The great love
Of my life..."


So Justin, on this, the first day of your twenty-second year, I just want you to know that I am so ecstatically proud to be your mother, so thrilled to have you in my life and I'm solidly optimistic about your future, because I have been a close witness to your past. I know parents always say, "You can do whatever you set your mind to" and we all mean it when we utter those words, but honestly, I'd stake my life on it.

Ultimately, the choices will be yours to make, but knowing what I do of who you are, I have every faith that you will be a force to be reckoned with wherever your dreams beckon you to follow. Some will work out and a few won't, but you'll learn a lot more from the ones that don't than those times in your life when things flow flawlessly. Thank you, my dear son, for allowing me to know the essential you, and for continuing to allow us, your family, to share in your life.

You and Katie truly are, and always will be, the love of my life. Happy, happy birthday, my love.