Missing Links

 Sometimes I get nostalgic for the way things used to be. I can remember, for example buying a ticket to see a movie for seventy-five cents. I can remember sitting at the breakfast table eating a second bowl of cereal just so I had a chance to reach the prize inside before my brothers, and also to finish reading the entire back panel of the box. Sometimes, I even miss chewing gum, but then my father's voice intrudes: "You look like a cow chewing its cud."

Thanks, dad. 

Then there are some other things that I don't really miss. Drinking comes to mind. Alcohol to be more precise. Drinking alcohol to excess to be as clear as possible. I spent a great portion of the Reagan/Bush regime looking for that next buzz. It was an obsession. It was self-medication. It was an addiction. I did not miss many opportunities to anesthetize myself in my twenties. Some might refer to this as "a drinking problem." On the contrary. I was very good at drinking. It's just that I was a terrible person after I got a few drinks in me. During this time I racked up my share of war stories, the kind that make those hearing them for the first time smile. Those who were there are more likely to wince at the memory. 

Eventually the problems created by my drinking were such that I decided to stop. No more Friday and Saturday nights spent searching for Penny Lane. No more family gatherings where I was the designated scene generator. Friends drifted away. I got so very good at drinking that I was able to do it all by myself. 

And so it was time to quit. 

Now every so often I see some guy quick-stepping into the local liquor store, ready to start his evening or afternoon off with a bottle or a six pack. And wouldn't it be nice if he was able to have a few cold ones with the boys and then call it a night? He might be able to remember his trip home, and maybe even avoid the demon hangover that always accompanied my own trips to the Disneyland of Beers. The pounding headache and the queasy stomach was all a part of the fun I used to have. 

Fun. 

My dad never used to tease me about my drinking. Perhaps because he was all too aware of where I had picked up the habit in the first place. My dad didn't chew gum, but he certainly enjoyed an adult beverage or two. Or more. 

I miss my dad. 

I don't miss drinking.