A Bit Of The Past And Present ©

Last night I took a break and sat down to watch some TV for a change of pace and indulged myself with a beer.
I’m not much of a big drinker anymore unless I am out with the boys and we know it’s going to be a party.

I was sitting here the other day with Mike and we were remembering some of the parties I’ve had over the years.
I think the biggest one was with sixty people on one New Years Eve.
Most were with the boys and their old ladies, none of us had kids back then so we were free to party all night long sometimes for days.
The music was always blaring and everyone was getting drunk and dancing in the living room.

Most of the guys would be in the kitchen scoffing down food and beer, talking, and laughing at some of the fuck ups over the year.
Everyone had a story to contribute to the informal meeting, some many.

The women would be running back and forth from the dance floor to grab their old men and drag them off kicking and screaming for a dance every now and again.

The booze flowed like a river and the smoke was so thick in the air you didn’t need to smoke to get high.
Just breathe.

Most were wild, some were crazy wild like in 1984 or 85 when about ten of us had gathered to watch the Super Bowl one Sunday.
There was a knock at the door and when I answered it there was a couple of cops standing there.
They said they were looking for someone and had received a tip that he was here and wanted to come in and look for him.

Yeah well in 1985 I wanted to squeeze Dolly Pardon’s tits and make her nose twitch but that was going to happen as much as I was going to let the cops march into my house without a warrant to take out a friend without a fight.
Besides, the rules for the party stated that you had to bring beer and the cops didn’t bring any so end of story.
When they got a little pushy at the door 3-4 of the guys came over to back me up and the cops decided it was a good thing to back up and leave.

When they left we laughed and opened up some more beer and lit a couple of joints to celebrate.
Thirty minutes later the doorbell rang and when I opened it there was an army of cops outside.
But they still didn’t have any beer.

By this time they pretty much knew who was in the house and the sergeant didn’t want a battle so we negotiated a prisoner exchange.
After the football game of course.
After the game buddy stumbled out the front door to an awaiting crowd of police and spectators looking down on them from the top of the porch calling out “ I hear yeah looking for me”, Well here I am” and walked down the stairs with a smoke dangling from the side of his grinning mouth.

His girlfriend had called the cops on him because he didn’t give her money to buy cocaine and one thing led to another and he smacked her.
Two hours after he surrendered himself he was back because she refused to press charges.

That was a long time ago.

He died about 5 years ago at the age of 42 from a brain tumour; she died 18 years ago of a drug over dose.
They left a son behind.

I have dozens of such stories I could tell you about.
A mother turning to drugs and prostitution to feed her kid only to end up dead in the trunk of a car.
A 13 year old with track marks that are at least 3 years old.
A friend jumping out of a tree at the park where kids play with a rope tied around his neck

I have seen a lot and done a lot.
I have done things that I chose to do as did all those people above.
No one can force you to do what you don’t want too; even if they have a gun to your head you still have a choice.

Someone came to me to be consoled because one of their friends had died of an overdose but I wasn’t to consoling when it was towards their dead friend.
I know the friend’s death must be hard to deal with but I don’t really feel sorry for the friend because they did it to themselves.
I feel sorry for the family of the person who have to live with all of this.

When I was on drugs, I didn’t give a shit about nothing but the drugs.
Junkies are selfish and only think of themselves and their dealer, not their friends and families otherwise they wouldn’t be selling their soul for more.

I feel sorry for the kids that are left behind because their parents killed themselves on drugs instead of getting their life together for them.

I am sorry people have to die but when it’s preventable and that person doesn’t give a fuck if they live or die, then why should I grieve for their demise when all they have done is create a lot of pain and angst for the people that loved them the most.

I have helped many people who gave up drugs with money, food, clothes and furniture.
I gave buddy’s girlfriend twenty bucks so she could buy some food and a pair of red boots because she was wearing shoes in two feet of snow.
It was that twenty bucks she used to buy the cocaine that killed her.

Every junkie out there has the power within them to get out if they so choose and there are avenues to help them if the go out there and ask for help.
BUT THEY HAVE TO WANT TO.
They have to see the benefits of quitting.
Salvation is in the eyes of their children.

So if I sound like a cold hearted fucker to some people, then so be it; I guess I am but don’t ask me to feel sorry for someone who purposely kills themselves for their own selfish desires and doesn’t try to get out of the predicament they are in.
Ones actions speak for themselves.

Have a nice day

Walker