And then I began to bury my mind with questions. Why drugs? Why did his wife stay with him though all the ups and downs, the travelling and over doses? Why didn't anyone care enough to see the warning signs? And better yet, where's God in all of this. Many times during the program, Chris is telling his story to several different audiences--the obligatory stay-off-drugs in a high school, a military audience, one that looks like a room full of ex-cons, ex-addicts. We see clips and pictures of his past, all swagger and boastful. We love these types of stories. The cocky kid rises, falls, and lives to tell about it. The entire story is a testament to the power of the human spirit. And then again I get to wondering, are shows like this just a glorification of how humans can do mighty things without God? I know I am being presumptuous and judgmental. Bear with me.
I've seen these stories before. It's always the druggie, or the gangster, or the money launderer, the gambler. They learn their lesson through a series of pratfalls and down-n-outs, but in the end of the movie, they survive with a smirk to the camera. We're supposed to learn something from them, I guess. The entire movie is filled with parties, naked women, drugs, crime but when their life changes it's dull (remember the ending of "Goodfellas"?) and uneventful. We never see the movie about the after-life. Those days where they struggled to stay clean, struggled to gain a foothold of being a father, being "normal." For wise-guys and show boaters, it's always been about them. And for Chris too, I presume. He tells his story with a bluntness. Some may call it courage. Some may feel talking in front of an audience is much like resurrecting his basketball career. Adoring fans, tears, hugs afterward. You can hear the quotes right? "You're such an inspiration." "Your story made me reflect on my addictions." Etc, etc.
Addictions are powerful. I didn't always understand the lure of drugs. I smoked as a kid, and in my highest moment I realized I didn't need a bong hit to make me laugh cause I laughed pretty much anywhere. Beer was this way too. I was a happy drunk, a social drinker. Perhaps it was through observing my own family that led me clear of needing that drug or alcohol fix. My dad never drank and he rarely ever had a beer in his fridge. We shared a few during a Monday Night Football game when I was in town years back. It was the most awkward beer I've ever had. My step-dad was a non-drinker too. He played fastpitch softball on the weekends when the coolers were filled with more Budweiser than Gatorade. These guys would smoke and drink between games, 9 am games. But for him, he just never dabbled. And then there were my uncles.
Two of them never met a shot of tequila they didn't like. I mean, when one has "Tequila" as part of a nickname, you know what kind of person you're dealing with. I know there was a lot of unseen drug use, the rumors of. I didn't know all of their friends, only that they never really stayed around. I guess that says something too.
And then there was my own fear and crossed-messages. I grew up with that Catholic fright. I would sneak a look at my step-dad's stash-plate he slid under the sofa when I entered the room and wonder what the little green seeds were, that pungent smell. He raised me too, and held his jobs, worked up to management. If this was a drug addiction, how was it able to manage a family? How was it able to hold a job? And fear again. I once saw cocaine left aside after an uncle's party. Rolled-up dollar bills, lots of scary-looking white guys. I always presumed that with my stupid luck and that Catholic fear based mentality, that the minute I took anything stronger than a Tylenol, that I'd foam at the mouth and die (with a pair of skid-marked underwear on no less, that was grandma-induced fear in itself). I remember once going on a drug run. I was just out of high school. Being inside that guys house, all that fear just boiling. I kept thinking we were going to get killed. That this guy would get pissed and shoot us all. His wife or girlfriend were watching tv at the time, watching us buy. His kid was there too. Here I am, just out of high school, with my friends in a kitchen trying to smoke something from a manipulated coca-cola can, the room illuminated by the blue light of the television and the eyes of a child burying a hole in me. No wonder I didn't get a buzz.
And going back to the film, he confessed to spending thousands just for a fix. And I thought to my own addictions. Pornography and food. One hidden, one in plain view. On mornings like this when I would have the free time (I took the day off of work to be a prayer partner for my wife), I would awaken to the thoughts of what I would visit on the computer screen. Then some heavy lunch of fried chicken, hiding the evidence in the outside trashcans. Then back to the computer. Then food thoughts again. Repeat.
When I was younger and struggling to live on my own, it was much the same. I would leave work in the early morning, buy some breakfast tacos, gorge, sleep, then awaken and venture out to rent video tapes from any place I could get them. I think there were about 20 mom and pop video stores along Aldine Westfield and I had a membership to all of them. They each had their curtained adult video room. Those were my days. Porn and pizza.
And when Chris Herren talks about living one day at a time, I understand. Each day I don't view that is a blessing. I notice food habits now as well. Why do I always have my necklace or shirt collar in my mouth when I watch tv? Probably because I would be mindlessly eating. Part of going to Weight Watchers is to change those habits. Right now, I'm home awaiting the afternoon prayer vigil for my wife who is speaking in the Emmaus walk. My mind drifts to lunch time because that's the safe place my mind remembers. I spoke of fear in an earlier blog.
But I have one thing different lately. It's not my power or a program. All God. I hope Chris has that for his family, instead of the humanistic approach to battling what ails us. We can only do so much. Chris says he thanked God a few times in the film. I hope it wasn't just a flippant remark of a man in front of a camera. No camera is on me or the men I look up to. I wonder how their stories will play out.
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