Tomorrow New Year's is celebrated here, so we get the day off. As a treat, I decided to go to the movies. I was surprised that Denzel Washington's new movie, "Flight" was showing, so of course, that was my first choice.
I promise not to give anything away if you haven't seen it and plan to, but there are a couple of things about it that caught my attention.
Denzel plays a pilot who does an extraordinary job of landing a plane, and was considered a hero until it was discovered he was high on drugs and alcohol during that fateful flight.
As most of you know, my ex-husband was a commercial pilot, and my father was an alcoholic, so I could relate on several levels.
About three-fourths of the way through the movie though, I got up to leave. Things were spiraling out of control, and it was like watching a train wreck. In retrospect, I'm glad I stayed through to the end, but it wasn't easy.
At 56, when I see people drinking, social or otherwise, I'm taken back to that place when I was a kid, when I would stay up with my mom, as we waited for my father to get home. We knew he would be drunk, we just didn't know how drunk. Flat out pissy drunk was best because then he would stumble in the house and sleep it off. Of course, not before he vomited all over himself and the house. It was my job to clean it up while mom wrestled him to bed. This went on for years and years. If he had not reached that total level of drunkenness when he walked through the door, he was mean and nasty and horrible to be around.
I was home from college one time, and it was time to return. We had little money, so I would be returning to Florida the way I came, by Greyhound Bus. This was one of those times when daddy was pissy drunk. Mom didn't come to see me off because she was afraid to ride with him this drunk, and she was dependent on him because she couldn't drive. I was able to drive myself to the bus station, while he rode shotgun. We got there fine and I went inside to wait, when I looked up, he's standing in the doorway with his pants around his ankles.
Embarrassment dosen't begin to describe that scene.
It's memories like these that I carry with me.
So, watching this movie was tough. It took me back to a place I never what to be.
As proud as I am of Ben and Frankie, it broke my heart to see them drinking. In the real scheme of things, this may seem small, but because of my experiences, this was huge. I felt like I failed them because clearly I hadn't done enough to convey the dangers of alcohol to themselves and others. Even though they knew my experiences well, it wasn't enough to deter them.
Are my guys lushes? No, thank God, but in my mind, drinking one drop of liquor is one too many.
As I've said many times before, the way we're raised impacts everything about us - good or bad.
At 56, my memories of living with a drunk are still very fresh, even though we're talking of my earliest memories, beginning more than 50 years ago.
Although many of the people in my world drink, I will never be one of them. I can thank my father for that.
I promise not to give anything away if you haven't seen it and plan to, but there are a couple of things about it that caught my attention.
Denzel plays a pilot who does an extraordinary job of landing a plane, and was considered a hero until it was discovered he was high on drugs and alcohol during that fateful flight.
As most of you know, my ex-husband was a commercial pilot, and my father was an alcoholic, so I could relate on several levels.
About three-fourths of the way through the movie though, I got up to leave. Things were spiraling out of control, and it was like watching a train wreck. In retrospect, I'm glad I stayed through to the end, but it wasn't easy.
At 56, when I see people drinking, social or otherwise, I'm taken back to that place when I was a kid, when I would stay up with my mom, as we waited for my father to get home. We knew he would be drunk, we just didn't know how drunk. Flat out pissy drunk was best because then he would stumble in the house and sleep it off. Of course, not before he vomited all over himself and the house. It was my job to clean it up while mom wrestled him to bed. This went on for years and years. If he had not reached that total level of drunkenness when he walked through the door, he was mean and nasty and horrible to be around.
I was home from college one time, and it was time to return. We had little money, so I would be returning to Florida the way I came, by Greyhound Bus. This was one of those times when daddy was pissy drunk. Mom didn't come to see me off because she was afraid to ride with him this drunk, and she was dependent on him because she couldn't drive. I was able to drive myself to the bus station, while he rode shotgun. We got there fine and I went inside to wait, when I looked up, he's standing in the doorway with his pants around his ankles.
Embarrassment dosen't begin to describe that scene.
It's memories like these that I carry with me.
So, watching this movie was tough. It took me back to a place I never what to be.
As proud as I am of Ben and Frankie, it broke my heart to see them drinking. In the real scheme of things, this may seem small, but because of my experiences, this was huge. I felt like I failed them because clearly I hadn't done enough to convey the dangers of alcohol to themselves and others. Even though they knew my experiences well, it wasn't enough to deter them.
Are my guys lushes? No, thank God, but in my mind, drinking one drop of liquor is one too many.
As I've said many times before, the way we're raised impacts everything about us - good or bad.
At 56, my memories of living with a drunk are still very fresh, even though we're talking of my earliest memories, beginning more than 50 years ago.
Although many of the people in my world drink, I will never be one of them. I can thank my father for that.
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