Happy to see CC Sabathia of the New York Yankees checking into rehab.
http://nypost.com/2015/10/06/the-weekend-long-bender-behind-cc-sabathias-rehab-stay/
Over the years I have seen alcohol kill people and crush their families. I don’t think we as a society talk about it enough.
-Red
Hoops135@hotmail.com
CONTAINER DIARIES 
Billy Mudge said:
This is a funny thing – you and I have seen our share of alcoholic tradedies. I still can’t tell the ones who are using it for a crutch. It seemed in the neighborhood that every time someone committed a crime or did something outrageous, they blamed it on the booze. weakness of character never seems to enter in. I am interested in hearing what the other bloggers feel on this subject
Red said:
Using it as a crutch…you may be on to something Billy.
Man up and stop guzzling the booze.
Jim Casey said:
There are some who have the genetic disposition to be genuinely addicted to alcohol to the point that their body craves it. That does not excuse them from dealing with their disease, just makes it difficult. They can stop drinking, but their bodies will always have the craving.
Emmett J. Hoops said:
Certainly there is a genetic disposition, but there’s also a strong cultural one at play, especially in working class neighborhoods like Windsor Terrace used to be. But the body that craves is also the body that feels like an old man inside a young man. At some point, you just want to stop feeling like you’re nearly dead — at which point you might miss some aspects of drinking, but you sure as hell won’t miss feeling like hell frozen over. Me, I’m in recovery for many years, and it’s hard for me to believe that I ever put myself through that nonsense. I just got sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. Hurt too many people, but principally myself. Comes a time when you just have to say to yourself, “To thine own self be true.” When it’s due to resonate, it will.
Red said:
No doubt Emmett. Thanks for sharing…
Mudge said:
AMEN RED.
Emmett Hoops said:
We tend to romanticize our youthful days. I even think, from time to time, how nice it was to have somebody yell, “Hey, how’re you doing, Emmett?” from the plastered bunch at the Lafayette monument. (In a way, it was comforting: if anybody’d tried to rob me, I know those drunks would have been running — stumbling — to help me.)
But my neighbor was John Dooley. John the elder was a hopeless alcoholic; he used to joke about losing his final job: “I got thrown off the top of the World Trade Center!” His face was covered with sores; his speech deteriorated to such an extent that he experienced a complete change of accent. Born in Hoboken, he was; with a strong Jersey accent. In the last two decades of his life, he spoke in an Irish brogue. He nearly died when he fell asleep, drunk, smoking a cigarette, back in 1989. His house, 298 Windsor, burned, and ours, 300, was slightly damaged. I moved in 1991, and can only assume that John died shortly after.
It bothers me that we just assumed he was beyond hope. Nobody ever tried to intervene. Nobody tried to help his kids, who suffered beyond belief. It is a much better world today, and three cheers for Sebathia for having the intelligence and courage to do what he has done.
Red said:
“HEY, HOW YOU YOU DOING EMMETT?”
Just kidding my man.
You are so right on all points.
We all need help at sometime in our lives.
Thanks for adding your content.