NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

Thirty-four years ago today at this time I was driving the mysterious Regina and myself to the Portland Jetport. I was popping a few pills along the way and only dozed off four or five times. We said a strained goodbye at the airport, she drove home, and I boarded a plane for Minneapolis, Saint Mary's Rehab, and the beginnings of a whole new life.

Had to change planes in Chicago which meant half-running from one end of the airport to another, and one concourse took me right ...through a huge circular bar. Didn't stop to get a drink, though. I didn't have an alcohol problem, see. I was merely misunderstood. I finally got to my gate, took a handful of pills, passed out, woke up in a taxi in a strange looking city not quite remembering why I was in a taxi or that city, took another pill, woke up screaming at a rehab nurse, then watched as she patted me down, took away my pill caddy, then went through my luggage and confiscated the other pills and medications therein.

"Anything you need will be prescribed for you," the nurse said. I was to find out over the course of the next few horrible days that Saint Mary's definition of the word "need" was considerably different than my own.

That pill I took in the taxi was my last use of mood altering drugs. It seemed like one hell of a price then and for quite a few weeks thereafter. I spent part of the night alone in my room staring out the window at a street light and one of the worst snowstorms to hit Minneapolis that year. I remember very clearly thinking that I was jammed right into the middle of the worst moment of my life, and if there was ever a time that I could possibly change to make this not to have happened, this was it. Turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Shows what I knew.

Lots has changed. The building which housed the drug rehab is now the Fairview Hand Center. I don't know if they fix hands or it's named after someone named Hand. Home is where you do most of your growing up, and that event took place in this building. So, it's the old homestead to me. Those of you familiar with my novel Saint Mary Blue will recognize that entrance, although the big concrete shrub pot in the center of the stairs was added some years after my attendance at this particular academy.

The world has changed radically since then as has technology all for better and worse. I have changed, too, pretty much for the better.

I should have been dead thirty-four years ago, and tomorrow night at Franklin Memorial Hospital in Farmington, Maine, the Mysterious Regina and I will be celebrating the coming in of the new year with a bunch of clean and sober NAs and AAs and their families. Food, games, good talk, and music. New Year's resolution? Same as last year's: Don't pick up, go to meetings, and ask for help.

Lots of love and Happy New Year everybody whether or not this particular date coincides with your particular new year.