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Jan. 27, 2005 I empathize with Ms. O’Neill’s anguish, pain, exasperation, and financial devastation from the destructive lifestyle of her son’s drug addiction. If I hadn’t ended my marriage to the mother of my children after fifteen years, and thereby limited her drug habit to the amount of my child support, she’d probably be living under a bridge somewhere today. Drug addiction breaks up families that had a reasonable chance of happiness. My father still suffers guilt, in his last years, over my younger brother’s arrest twelve years ago on drug charges, and still suspects him of the same activity despite my assertions otherwise. The emotional scars of drug addiction are many and long lasting. But I don’t sympathize with Ms. O’Neill. I did leave my marriage and helped myself, the children, AND their mother by doing so. My father fired my brother from the family busines after his arrest and, despite my dad’s suspicions, my brother is no longer a drug addict or dealer. I’m reminded of a joke the late great comedian, Sam Kinnison, used to tell. For those of you not familiar with Sam, he was genius during the 70’s, possibly into the early 80’s, but died tragically in a car wreck at the height of his career. His manic style reminds me of a music style prevalent among white teenagers today (Blink 182 and Lincoln Park come to mind, but there are others). Their songs are sung softly at low volume and with softer music through the verse, but explode in the electronic wall-of-sound style with screaming vocals at the refrain. Sam Kinnison told jokes that way. As a former evangelical preacher, Sam could captivate the audience as he told the a story but, with a mighty “Hallelujah!”, his punch lines would knock you over. He would actually raise his voice to a scream and the sheer physicality and emotion would double the joke’s comic impact. Back in the ‘70’s, one of mankind’s Human Catastrophes de Jour, was a famine in Chad that was killing thousands. The Saharan country had not seen rain in years so water and crops were non-existent. Sam described the horror and his confusion and offered simple advice to those suffering Chadians (?, Chadites, Chadish, Chadese?) after seeming to thoughtfully consider their plight: “MOVE!!,” he’d scream. “YOU LIVE IN A F**KING DESERT – NOTHING GROWS THERE!! MOVE!!” I guess you had to be there to get the full impact, all caps and exclamation points can only add so much. But my point is that Ms. O’Neill just needs to “MOVE!”. She needs to move on with her life, a life separate from a 46-year old son. Whatever mistakes she made, if any, that contributed to his corruption, probably still exist in the relationship they now share. At his age, we’re talking “apron chains,” not strings, and she owes him no more of her life. Move, Ms. O’Neill, you deserve better. ------------ About the author: Ron Lewis is a software salesman extraordinaire, albeit habitually unemployed, with no significant accomplishments at age 47 other than two wonderfully talented children who take after their mother. All his friends note his keen insight, bad eyesight, doggedly jaded disposition, and rugged bad looks. A third person seems to recall that he talks too much. Email: grnacres@direcway.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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