...california and beyond
Ahh! Here we go. Of course I had just met the infamous “Moonies”, the Unification Church, followers of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon. I was brought to Boonville, Ca. where they owned a 600-acre ranch and where the lessons in Unification Theology were begun. If anyone is interested I will go into that at a later time. It really has very little to do with my story. What it does have to do with my story is that I had found a place where I could fit in. I didn’t much believe in the specific theology, but the over-all lessons of love, sharing, peace, etc. struck to the very core of my being. The rules of the community that I eventually became a part of the core of were simple:
No sexual relationships (I didn’t have to worry about my sexuality).
No tobacco (I had a little problem with that one in the beginning).
No drugs or alcohol!!!
There was time for prayer and meditation. There was time for work. Twenty acres of the land was vegetable garden, another twenty was an apple orchard. Pigs, ducks, turkeys, & chickens roamed the barnyard freely. Sheep and cattle roamed and grazed the rest of the property. There were five horses for riding to do chores or round-ups or for pure pleasure. In short, I was in heaven and I was at last sober. I became the cook for the community and was one of a core of seven people who lived on the farm permanently. There were fresh vegetables to pick for meals, fresh milk (very early) every morning, fresh eggs – and that core group who came to be fast friends. Until recently, I could honestly say that those were the best years of my life. I could write pages and pages about it but, again, that seems not to be part of this story.
What eventually happened was this. I had been sober since that night in San Francisco in 1978. In the fall of 1984, still at the farm, I developed a severe cold. Without thinking twice about it, I went to my storeroom, got some cough medicine, took two tablespoons of it….and got drunk!! …and loved it. The next weekend, I arranged to stay behind to “take care of the animals” while everyone else went to the city for some meeting or convention or something. I was alone on the farm. After the last vehicle left, I went to the kitchen and retrieved a large glass, filled it with ice cubes, and poured the remainder of the bottle of cough syrup into it. Nearly six years after the last drunk, here I was – back again. Cunning? Baffling? Powerful? You betcha !! That was the beginning of about five years of pure, unmitigated hell for me. The weekly grocery shopping in town came to secretly include two or three bottles of “Mad Dog”. There was also an inventory of various beers and wines (and some hard stuff, too) that people had brought to the farm over the years and had left there. That began to disappear. I was able to carry on this game for about six months and then had to leave the community, as it was obvious even to me that I was out of control. I was devastated.
I made my way back to the Boston area where I spent a few years trying, without much success, to get and stay sober. Somewhere along the way I had become a fairly talented carpenter so in those housing boom days there was no lack of work...or of money. There were plenty of AA meetings and periods of months, even a year and a half at one point, of sobriety. I would become very successful, very sought after for my work, and then, in the end, always very successful in establishing my reputation as a drunk. I wound up in New Hope, Pa., where my (birth) Mom was the part owner of a gay resort. I became the maintenance man and office manager for her and her partner. I was able to drink safely because it was “part of the job”, plus the fact that Mom was (still is) a very functional alcoholic- a quart of Polish Potato Vodka every night, no more, no less. It was from here that I wound up in the hospital with the DT’s for the first of many times. I thought that I was hospitalized for a week. It was actually three weeks and I still don’t remember the first two of them. After that experience (and three months with the Salvation Army plan of re-hab), I made my way back to Massachusetts, sober, but barely. I tied in with old groups and AA friends and stayed sober until the winter of 1990. Hospitalization after hospitalization ad infinitum that winter until I gave up. I just could not do this any more! Unfortunately (?), there wasn’t enough booze ever made for me to drink myself to death, though I gave it a shot. In the end, my psychiatrist suggested Florida, as I seemed to have major problems with winter. So, on my fortieth birthday in February of 1990, sober and with a little bit of hope, I moved to the Florida Keys.
There is not too much more to tell, but there is more. Unfortunately, I have to go to work now and will be there until 11 tonight. The years in Key West have been very good to me. There were also a couple of bad times. really bad. like jail bad. like strapped to a gurney bad. But the good far outweighs all of that.
So now you have most of my experience, the beginnings of some strength and the promise of hope. When I get back to finish this epic, either late tonight or tomorrow, I promise the realization of that strength and hope. God bless you for allowing me to share this with you. You may never know, nor perhaps understand, how badly this needed to be done. I sit here with tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks. Absolutely. Love and Peace from Key West and from…Chris
No sexual relationships (I didn’t have to worry about my sexuality).
No tobacco (I had a little problem with that one in the beginning).
No drugs or alcohol!!!
There was time for prayer and meditation. There was time for work. Twenty acres of the land was vegetable garden, another twenty was an apple orchard. Pigs, ducks, turkeys, & chickens roamed the barnyard freely. Sheep and cattle roamed and grazed the rest of the property. There were five horses for riding to do chores or round-ups or for pure pleasure. In short, I was in heaven and I was at last sober. I became the cook for the community and was one of a core of seven people who lived on the farm permanently. There were fresh vegetables to pick for meals, fresh milk (very early) every morning, fresh eggs – and that core group who came to be fast friends. Until recently, I could honestly say that those were the best years of my life. I could write pages and pages about it but, again, that seems not to be part of this story.
What eventually happened was this. I had been sober since that night in San Francisco in 1978. In the fall of 1984, still at the farm, I developed a severe cold. Without thinking twice about it, I went to my storeroom, got some cough medicine, took two tablespoons of it….and got drunk!! …and loved it. The next weekend, I arranged to stay behind to “take care of the animals” while everyone else went to the city for some meeting or convention or something. I was alone on the farm. After the last vehicle left, I went to the kitchen and retrieved a large glass, filled it with ice cubes, and poured the remainder of the bottle of cough syrup into it. Nearly six years after the last drunk, here I was – back again. Cunning? Baffling? Powerful? You betcha !! That was the beginning of about five years of pure, unmitigated hell for me. The weekly grocery shopping in town came to secretly include two or three bottles of “Mad Dog”. There was also an inventory of various beers and wines (and some hard stuff, too) that people had brought to the farm over the years and had left there. That began to disappear. I was able to carry on this game for about six months and then had to leave the community, as it was obvious even to me that I was out of control. I was devastated.
I made my way back to the Boston area where I spent a few years trying, without much success, to get and stay sober. Somewhere along the way I had become a fairly talented carpenter so in those housing boom days there was no lack of work...or of money. There were plenty of AA meetings and periods of months, even a year and a half at one point, of sobriety. I would become very successful, very sought after for my work, and then, in the end, always very successful in establishing my reputation as a drunk. I wound up in New Hope, Pa., where my (birth) Mom was the part owner of a gay resort. I became the maintenance man and office manager for her and her partner. I was able to drink safely because it was “part of the job”, plus the fact that Mom was (still is) a very functional alcoholic- a quart of Polish Potato Vodka every night, no more, no less. It was from here that I wound up in the hospital with the DT’s for the first of many times. I thought that I was hospitalized for a week. It was actually three weeks and I still don’t remember the first two of them. After that experience (and three months with the Salvation Army plan of re-hab), I made my way back to Massachusetts, sober, but barely. I tied in with old groups and AA friends and stayed sober until the winter of 1990. Hospitalization after hospitalization ad infinitum that winter until I gave up. I just could not do this any more! Unfortunately (?), there wasn’t enough booze ever made for me to drink myself to death, though I gave it a shot. In the end, my psychiatrist suggested Florida, as I seemed to have major problems with winter. So, on my fortieth birthday in February of 1990, sober and with a little bit of hope, I moved to the Florida Keys.
There is not too much more to tell, but there is more. Unfortunately, I have to go to work now and will be there until 11 tonight. The years in Key West have been very good to me. There were also a couple of bad times. really bad. like jail bad. like strapped to a gurney bad. But the good far outweighs all of that.
So now you have most of my experience, the beginnings of some strength and the promise of hope. When I get back to finish this epic, either late tonight or tomorrow, I promise the realization of that strength and hope. God bless you for allowing me to share this with you. You may never know, nor perhaps understand, how badly this needed to be done. I sit here with tears of gratitude streaming down my cheeks. Absolutely. Love and Peace from Key West and from…Chris
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