Well, I stuck a 12-pack of long neck Buds in the little dorm refrigerator in this room yesterday. We were shopping in El Centro and my daughter mentioned that she’d turned the refer on before I arrived because she figured I might want to keep some beer in it. Nobody drinks here and truth is, I’d hated to bring beer into their house, the main reason I hadn’t had any. But she said it was no problem whatsoever so I bought a few. And since I can smoke in this room as well, now I can smoke and drink, which comes in handy should I wish to. I only had a couple yesterday -- hell, had to celebrate the Titan’s win over Texans, doncha know. But I won’t be guzzling like I sometimes do at home.
We’ll be doing the Thanksgiving dinner thing here Friday. On Thanksgiving day, the family participates each year in a “feed the homeless” thing in the city park. Hell, they don’t “participate” in it, they do all the preparation for it, from purchasing the food to cooking it. My daughter is in charge of it through the church and my son, who is now second in command at the rehab center that put him back on the straight and narrow, also plays a big part in it. To see my son, Norm, transformed from a hopeless meth head into a man of substance and one respected by the people he deals with and supervises has done my heart more good than a transplant.
He laughingly told one of his friends yesterday that, “Dad had written me off.” He said it with a smile and good cheer. I told him I’d never written him off, but I had expected him to get killed eventually in a barroom fight or a drug deal gone bad. Or in prison. His friend, who is now his right hand man at the rehab, had taken the rough path as well. He and Norm grew up together, began using dope together, went off the deep end together.
When Norm got to the point where he had to clean up or go to prison, he cleaned up. He found rock bottom. And then he convinced Frank to get involved in the program. Frank saw what it had done for Norman and jumped in. Now they’re like a working machine, getting shit done right and left, cell phones in both hands. I couldn’t take the pressure myself, but it doesn’t faze Norm. He’s like a human steamroller of spirituality.
Today, he’s moving into his first new home. That’s a hell of an accomplishment for a fellow who, four years ago, was looking at the inside of a slammer for manufacturing meth. It’s a hell of a nice house -- I went to Brawley and saw it yesterday, when the carpet men were installing carpet and rolled good.
My daughter has a nice home here in Holtville too, five bedrooms, three patios outside. I love to sit out on the side patio early in the morning and drink coffee in the warming rays of the morning sun. It gets down into the upper 40 at night, but that sun knocks the chill off in a hurry. Later in the day it climbs to the 80s.
Both of my kids have accomplished more than I have, and they still have many years to go. I’m tickled to death about that. This trip has allowed me to see first-hand just how well they are doing.
And in the end, that’s all that counts.
We’ll be doing the Thanksgiving dinner thing here Friday. On Thanksgiving day, the family participates each year in a “feed the homeless” thing in the city park. Hell, they don’t “participate” in it, they do all the preparation for it, from purchasing the food to cooking it. My daughter is in charge of it through the church and my son, who is now second in command at the rehab center that put him back on the straight and narrow, also plays a big part in it. To see my son, Norm, transformed from a hopeless meth head into a man of substance and one respected by the people he deals with and supervises has done my heart more good than a transplant.
He laughingly told one of his friends yesterday that, “Dad had written me off.” He said it with a smile and good cheer. I told him I’d never written him off, but I had expected him to get killed eventually in a barroom fight or a drug deal gone bad. Or in prison. His friend, who is now his right hand man at the rehab, had taken the rough path as well. He and Norm grew up together, began using dope together, went off the deep end together.
When Norm got to the point where he had to clean up or go to prison, he cleaned up. He found rock bottom. And then he convinced Frank to get involved in the program. Frank saw what it had done for Norman and jumped in. Now they’re like a working machine, getting shit done right and left, cell phones in both hands. I couldn’t take the pressure myself, but it doesn’t faze Norm. He’s like a human steamroller of spirituality.
Today, he’s moving into his first new home. That’s a hell of an accomplishment for a fellow who, four years ago, was looking at the inside of a slammer for manufacturing meth. It’s a hell of a nice house -- I went to Brawley and saw it yesterday, when the carpet men were installing carpet and rolled good.
My daughter has a nice home here in Holtville too, five bedrooms, three patios outside. I love to sit out on the side patio early in the morning and drink coffee in the warming rays of the morning sun. It gets down into the upper 40 at night, but that sun knocks the chill off in a hurry. Later in the day it climbs to the 80s.
Both of my kids have accomplished more than I have, and they still have many years to go. I’m tickled to death about that. This trip has allowed me to see first-hand just how well they are doing.
And in the end, that’s all that counts.
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