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You have to wonder what motivates some people to run for the House. Do they want to make the state better, to represent their constituents or to impede the legislative process believing no government is better than what exists?
Alcohol and drugs may at some point have been razors for me, although I couldn’t remember that time. I’d misused and abused powders and liquids and pills and herbal supplements long enough that I had transformed them into a Sawzall, a reciprocating saw. For those not familiar with reciprocating saws, here’s an apt description from handyman.com.
The following is a letter to the editor. To send your own letter, email carolrobidoux@manchesterinklink.com
In college and throughout my early adulthood, I fashioned myself a progressive. I grew my hair long and wore tie-dye shirts and burned Sandalwood incense and even went to a Dead show—weeks before Jerry Garcia died (nota bene: I still love The Dead). In the 90s, this was considered “woke.” But there was a problem with this posture.
I write this from a room of which I share with three other residents. We’re all grateful to at least be halfway out of the prison, and we look forward to the next step, which is getting our own places. I’m lucky to have a supportive family, and safety net. Even with the aforementioned weapons, it’s still hard. The transition isn’t easy. A lot of it comes down to resources, ego, humility and discipline, but also the want and need to stay the course. So I continue to trust the process and follow the game plan that I made while doing time.
If I had to place money on either a horse race or on picking winners from early recovery, I’d be a better bettor at Pimlico or Churchill Downs than at a church basement or outdoor All-Recovery meeting. At the track, at least I’d have luck on my side—along with a little bit of information about the horses’ previous record. In early recovery, where most folks look like they’re way below down on their luck, appearances can be are deceiving.
I’ve been down many times in my life, looking up at people in the power structure, whether case managers, or food pantry workers or just someone to bum enough money for smokes off of. That stinks. They didn’t seem fully human to me when I gazed up the nostrils of privilege or stared hopefully at the chin of pride and arrogance. At least, that’s how people above me always appeared, no matter what they did to try to establish “rapport,” which all too often just made me more suspicious of them.
I’m a resident of Manchester who is child-free, but despite not having children in the Manchester School District, I still care about our school system. Not only in need of my support, but it’s also worthy of it, too. Why? Because we all stand to benefit from a strong school district.
I am one of the last people you should listen to on issues of spirituality. After all, when I first got into recovery, my higher power (Higher Power for those of you for whom higher power is a substitute word for God) was an imaginary number—i is the symbol for the square root of -1, a value that does not exist for square roots must be positive. Although imaginary, i is indispensable in solving some quadratic equations. If math problems can be solved with a nonexistent value, then it was good enough to help me solve the problem of my life. If nothing else, it placed something outside my will, ego and appetite at the center of the universe.
The Manchester NAACP is disappointed by the news that an arbitrator for Public Employee Labor Relations Board has recommended the reinstatement of former Manchester Police Officer Aaron Brown.
Leave your wife then schedule a colonoscopy. Your wife, quite obviously, has kept you subdued for decades with bills and kids and vacations to Florida, and now it’s time for you to rise—a phoenix ascending from your Man Cave—and reassert your primal self into the universe.
I don’t believe these things because I’m an optimist. I don’t believe them because of a book I read or a movie I watched. My belief doesn’t come from tapping my heels three times and making wishes.
As the impending doom which Trump was aware had already arrived on our shores and was already raining down on our country (we just didn’t know it), well, the Big Dorito decided as the President of the United States of America that the best move he could make was to pacify us, play us for infants, as inferiors, or, as he said, because he didn’t want to panic the country.
Employees of Hope are no better or of higher status than anyone who comes to us for support. We are comrades and allies and friends and companions with no special gifts or skills. Every person at Hope is in recovery from drug or alcohol abuse, eating disorders or other addictive behaviors.
The 20th Century Fox film, “Island in the Sun” (1957), was produced by Darryl F. Zanuck and directed by Robert Rossen, based on the novel of the same name by Alec Waugh, starring Harry Belafonte, James Mason, Dorothy Dandridge, and Dame Joan Collins. It was one of the most racially controversial films shown in Hollywood for its historical timeframe.
Theories offer only a half-constructed bridge to reality. Put another way, I’d rather learn about combat from real soldiers who have fought in real wars than from military theorists. Give me Norman Mailer, James Jones or Tobias Wolff over von Clausewitz, B.H. Liddell Hart or even Lao Tzu. The man who has been to war knows combat in his bones and heart; the theorist only in his mind.
Organized labor has been under attack for a generation, and today, President Donald Trump has been blatantly hostile to labor. His Administration has diminished our right to safe working conditions, refused to raise the minimum wage, and tried to rip away healthcare from those who need it the most. At this minute, this Administration is undermining the United State Postal Service, destroying hundreds of thousands of good jobs, many of which are held by America’s Veterans.
Recovery is about way more than not drinking. It’s about redux—a return to health after a period of sickness. Sometimes, though, we get so used to being diseased that health feels unhealthy, particularly when that disease has provided our best friend, our constant companion, our soulmate—meth, dope, coke, booze. Like a starving man with a meal of diseased meat, we know we must consume even as that consumption slowly kills us.
I write this Friday morning. Last night, Lucy, my dog whom many of you knew, died after being hit by a car. From everything I could tell, she died instantly at impact, a blessing I suppose. Becca, my oldest daughter, found Lucy’s corpse at the bottom of our driveway. I was sitting on our porch. Becca’s shrieks called me.
There is one proven solution for quitting drug and alcohol use. It is 100 percent effective, with no relapse or reoccurrence worries at all. This solution guarantees the drinker or drugger will never, ever use again. Not only that, it is easily available to all who use, and for many is the ultimate goal of addiction—even if the drug or alcohol user isn’t ever consciously aiming toward it. This solution has no side effects for the user and requires nothing—no change in attitude nor behavior—it is completely effective…