John’s Story

Hello, my name is John and I am an alcoholic. Thank you for allowing me to share myself with you.

I really do not like "Drunkalogs" so I want only to tell you what it was like, what happened, and what it is like now.

I was the third of three children and would not of even been here had the first born lived. He died at childbirth.

I was always the smallest in any group. And always had a speech problem. The two combined for a lot of ridicule and a great inferiority complex.

I was picked on at school and grew to hate school. I had decided at a young age it wasn’t for me, and as soon as I turned 16 I quit.

Drinking started at age 9 or 10. Can’t recall exactly, but it was at Gym class that my sister and I took. Gym was upstairs, bar was downstairs. After class we would meet our parents downstairs.

The bartender, a fellow named Pete who had had a tracheotomy and used a buzz box to speak. One night said John, tilt you head back. I did, he poured. Fleischman’s down the throat.

It burned. tasted horrible, and even smelled bad.

I loved it. I loved the fact it made me feel big. Accepted even.

From there it was the teen years before I drank again. We would be allowed to have a highball on Christmas eve as we set up the tree. Sometimes two. I always wanted more and would try to snitch my sisters if I could.

I would like to tell you that my father drank and that I think for a long time he drank alcoholically. As we never seemed to have money for extras and moved from one rental to another when we couldn’t pay the rent.

The first time I got drunk was around 16. On Rolling Rock beer. Anyone from the Pa. NJ area knows Rolling Rock. The famous Pony bottles, (7 oz.)

Both my parents were good parents and I did not suffer any form of abuse. And until the end I do not recall much fighting or arguing between my parents.

The only time I recall is one night in March 1967, my father had been drinking and he was mad about whatever my mom had made for dinner. He got rude, called her a slut, and went in the other room.

I was 18 and was drinking regularly by then. In fact, my dad would get me a bottle of J.W. Dant when he bought his Seagram’s 7. Talk about enabling.

This one night, both of us drinking, dad pissed off at mom, me pissed off at dad for calling her a horrible name, I confronted him.

A few minutes of loud voices followed by me throwing him across the room ended the argument. I won that battle.

I lost the war.

A week later my father died from a massive stroke, caused by a blood clot on the brain. The doctor said he had hit his head within the last 7 to 10 days or so.

I carried this with me, not telling a soul about it for many years. My mother went to her grave not know it, nor does my sister. Nor will they. Step nine says we cannot harm others to make ourselves feel better.

A few months later, I was invited by Uncle Sam to take a walking tour of Vietnam, so I joined the Navy instead.

After Basic Training in Great Lakes, Il. In the winter, I was shipped to Little Creek, Va. to a small Auxiliary ship, where I was put in the Ship fitter’s shop. As I had some experience welding and working with metal.

In Virginia, if you are 18 you can legally drink beer. This provided me to grow in my addition and of course there was always the EM club. If you were old enough to be there you could drink whatever you wanted.

On my first cruise overseas to the Mediterranean, I learned to like Rum and coke. This became my favorite poison for the next several years.

I was during this cruise I earned the distinction for being a "Hero" Due to another persons drunkenness.

After the cruise, that ship was decommissioned and I transferred to a command in Norfolk. Which was also the home of the Navy’s 2^nd class Divers school.

. I was basically on shore duty, and very able to drink almost anytime.

After 3 years in the Navy, I reenlisted for orders to school. This almost got pushed aside for I also at the time received orders to another ship.

Before I reported to that ship, I met the girl who would become my first wife. I saw her on weekends and did not drink much during those times. (Boy was she in for a surprise).

That ship took me back to the Med. For my second cruise. Booze was plentiful and cheap in most ports.

Due to the fact I reenlisted for school orders, I had to fly home from overseas. I took leave, got married and we drove from New Jersey to San Diego, Ca. for school.

After I finished that school I was sent to Philadelphia for another school. Being from that area, it was home.

I finished the school there and was transferred to Mayport, Fl. I went to Fl. The wife (very pregnant) stayed in NJ with her family.

This ship deployed to the Indian Ocean in July 1971. We were going around the southern tip of Africa, when my son was born and the wife was hospitalized for 3 weeks.

I received a message from Philadelphia Naval Hospital, requesting that I come home on emergency leave. It took 2 ½ weeks for me to get home. I got there the day before the wife and son where released.

I arrived at the hospital at 10:30 PM to see my wife and son. Needless to say, some young Navy Ensign nurse didn’t think I needed to be there that late.

As any good drunk would, I got rather crude with this lady, and she called her supervisor.

Well armed with a message from the Commander of the hospital, a Admiral, and a bit of compassion from the head nurse, I got to see my wife and son.

Drinking to this point was not an everyday thing nor was it much of a problem. I did drink often and got drunk at times.