At last it happened! In the 90's, After twenty five years of safe driving, and hundreds of thousands of miles, I was involved in an accident.
As I sat in the left hand lane of St. Clair Aenue in Toronto, waiting for the light to change, a half-ton truck loaded with lumber back into my car.
It was all over very fast - all I could see coming was the tailgate of the truck, and then there was a very sharp jolt.
The other driver and I got out to wait for the police. The lumber had scraped along the top of my hood and had hit the windshield where I was sitting and glanced ujpwards over the roof to about five feet behind my seat.
When the policeman came he said "my God, you were lucky to live through that"!
If the wood hadn't glanced upwards along the glass I would have been decapitated. All very neat and clean, and very fast!
It was then that I began to shake, and it took a few days to get back to normal
The thing that really hit me was the "thin line" that we tread between being and not being. That wood , in a flash, just as easily cut my head off, and all would have been over.
So, I learned, time is very precious. How much time do we have?
Couldn't an accident - a heart attack - a piece of meat jammed in the throat, whisked me away as if I had never been here?
What did I learn from the accident? Life is short, and should be treated with care.
Each morning I wake up to feel elated that I am here again to enjoy a beautiful morning, to hear the birds sing, to hear the childred as they begin their day; all the sights and sounds of life that we all take for granted. How precious they are and how lucky we are to have them.
One of the things about drinking that really bothered me was the fact that most of the time I was turned off to all these beautiful things. Either in a bar, or stretched in front of the Television or down in the basement making cheap wine.
I found that I was wasting precious time planning the drinking ahead, or being passed out from too much drinking.
The French have an expression for alcoholism which is literaly "the little death". I may have been sub-consciously wishing for this "little death" to escape the reality of life.
Well, not for me!
So I decided to quit completely, and went into the Donwood Institute for treatment of my alcohol addiction. (I have covered this phase of my life elsewhere). It was very difficult but life is a delicious and beautiful experience, and I am going to savour every minite of it while I can.
There is hope for the alcoholic. I made it, and am enjoying sobriety. You can do it also.
Can't you?
DON FELSTEAD
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
LOOKING BACK - AS A BEGINNING
This is the first post of my new blog, on which I will summarize my life. This period was a linchpin in my time on this planet, an end and a beginning.
I had just spent an hour at Donwood on a recent Saturday evening, (in the late sixties), and was driving home on Yonge Street in Hogs Hollow, in Toronto wondering what I was going to write about for my monthly editorial piece in the Donwood Newsletter, I saw the Jolly Miller, all lit up, fat and sassy, with people pouring in and out. Now, anyone who knows the North end of Toronto knows that the Miller was the flagship for drinkers. It had been the local watering hole for a hundred years or so. It was available to all, had a great atmosphere, and was a great place to drink.
As I passed it, a great flood off memories swept over me; the many times I had spent there with buddies, drinking maybe 10 to 20 drafts after a ball game, or straight from work, and often closed the place at one in the morning. I paid 10 cents for a draft beer, $4 for a case of 24 bottles, and $4 for a carton of cigarettes.
Then I thought of the not-so-pleasant memories, the climbing up the long outside steps to the men's bar (beer only), then the tenuous descent down those high stairs, unsteadily, but happy as hell. The crawling up the hill home about a mile away. Sometimes I drove and had trouble keeping the white line in the middle of the road from weaving from side to side, so I could follow it home.
One particular night, (I quit drinking forever the next day), I left at 1.00 in the morning but got only to the subway. Now in those days the Subway was under construction, and it was only a muddy hole up Yonge St. Since I had too much to drink, I lay down in the mud and went to sleep. The last thing I thought of was, (don't sleep in the subway darling - a popular song that year).
The next morning I got home, cleaned up, and went with my Sponsor from AA, Jack, never to drink again. Jack had told my wife that he thought I would never be able to quit, I was a hopeless drunk. This was coming from an expert, since he had imbibed a 26 oz bottle of whiskey for the past 25 years, and had only quit drinkingthe year before. Well I proved him wrong.
Coming out of this memory a few years later, I thought of my current life. I drive a new car, we are a prosperous middle-aged couple in the prime of our lives, living in a home in the country, just outside of Orillia. We had four happy, well-adjusted children, and even in these times of inflation, things were pretty good. We don't appreciate the things we have until we almost lose them. Could have lost my wife, my home, my children. But I pulled back in time!
I have been dry 39 years now, in 2008. I wake up every morning now thanking God that this day is another bonus in a litany of days. Something to take full advantage of every minute, and hour in that day. There is no way I am ever going to screw up my life with alcohol.
Having material things is not important to me know. If they were I would still be at the Bank, earning that big salary, facing the pressures - not able to enjoy my children.
I quit the Bank and took a much lower paying job with the government. There was a lot less pressure, and I work only 37 hours a week. I see my kids every night, every weekend and we do lots of things together., and I am sober. They can bring their friends home, happy in the knowledge that the old man won't be on the floor passed out, or weaving over the dinner table, grinning like a chesire cat, high on booze. They are confident that I will be there when they need me. And, most important of all, we like each other. My wife and I are lovers and friends, something we couldn't have been if I were still drinking.
Sobriety brings an important feeling of worth, pride, and a feeling of self confidence.
So, as I drove along Yonge St that day so long ago I remember shivering as I thought how far along drinking I had gone, how much more damage there could have been to my marriage and family.
I would have missed so much had I not gone to Donwood!
DON FELSTEAD
I had just spent an hour at Donwood on a recent Saturday evening, (in the late sixties), and was driving home on Yonge Street in Hogs Hollow, in Toronto wondering what I was going to write about for my monthly editorial piece in the Donwood Newsletter, I saw the Jolly Miller, all lit up, fat and sassy, with people pouring in and out. Now, anyone who knows the North end of Toronto knows that the Miller was the flagship for drinkers. It had been the local watering hole for a hundred years or so. It was available to all, had a great atmosphere, and was a great place to drink.
As I passed it, a great flood off memories swept over me; the many times I had spent there with buddies, drinking maybe 10 to 20 drafts after a ball game, or straight from work, and often closed the place at one in the morning. I paid 10 cents for a draft beer, $4 for a case of 24 bottles, and $4 for a carton of cigarettes.
Then I thought of the not-so-pleasant memories, the climbing up the long outside steps to the men's bar (beer only), then the tenuous descent down those high stairs, unsteadily, but happy as hell. The crawling up the hill home about a mile away. Sometimes I drove and had trouble keeping the white line in the middle of the road from weaving from side to side, so I could follow it home.
One particular night, (I quit drinking forever the next day), I left at 1.00 in the morning but got only to the subway. Now in those days the Subway was under construction, and it was only a muddy hole up Yonge St. Since I had too much to drink, I lay down in the mud and went to sleep. The last thing I thought of was, (don't sleep in the subway darling - a popular song that year).
The next morning I got home, cleaned up, and went with my Sponsor from AA, Jack, never to drink again. Jack had told my wife that he thought I would never be able to quit, I was a hopeless drunk. This was coming from an expert, since he had imbibed a 26 oz bottle of whiskey for the past 25 years, and had only quit drinkingthe year before. Well I proved him wrong.
Coming out of this memory a few years later, I thought of my current life. I drive a new car, we are a prosperous middle-aged couple in the prime of our lives, living in a home in the country, just outside of Orillia. We had four happy, well-adjusted children, and even in these times of inflation, things were pretty good. We don't appreciate the things we have until we almost lose them. Could have lost my wife, my home, my children. But I pulled back in time!
I have been dry 39 years now, in 2008. I wake up every morning now thanking God that this day is another bonus in a litany of days. Something to take full advantage of every minute, and hour in that day. There is no way I am ever going to screw up my life with alcohol.
Having material things is not important to me know. If they were I would still be at the Bank, earning that big salary, facing the pressures - not able to enjoy my children.
I quit the Bank and took a much lower paying job with the government. There was a lot less pressure, and I work only 37 hours a week. I see my kids every night, every weekend and we do lots of things together., and I am sober. They can bring their friends home, happy in the knowledge that the old man won't be on the floor passed out, or weaving over the dinner table, grinning like a chesire cat, high on booze. They are confident that I will be there when they need me. And, most important of all, we like each other. My wife and I are lovers and friends, something we couldn't have been if I were still drinking.
Sobriety brings an important feeling of worth, pride, and a feeling of self confidence.
So, as I drove along Yonge St that day so long ago I remember shivering as I thought how far along drinking I had gone, how much more damage there could have been to my marriage and family.
I would have missed so much had I not gone to Donwood!
DON FELSTEAD
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