Please excuse the rest of this column. I take pride in my contrarian nature, in my ability to identify clouds on any horizon. Today, though, is not a day for me to be philosophical or intellectual. It’s a day to freaking celebrate! READ MORE
You haven’t heard from me in a few months. I do hope you enjoyed the respite, because that silence has ended, beginning today with a mea culpa. I apologize to all the InkLink readers who contacted me offering support, to the members of Hope Nation who kept me in their prayers, to the countless folks in the larger recovery community who sent texts and emails of love and support, to my old Army buddy, Ryszard Guziewicz, to the InkLink’s Editor/Publisher/Grand-Poohbah, Carol Robidoux, and to dozens of others. I am sorry. I didn’t respond to many of your inquiries about my health, each sent with love and compassion. It was wrong but necessary to have isolated in a cocoon composed of my wife and daughters, along with a very small group of close friends. Thank you all, and please accept my apology. READ MORE
I don’t mean it’s unlikely I’ve been working that long, for I suspect some of you see me as a great-grandfatherly figure, a doddering old fool who’s lucky not to have oatmeal on his chin and his address pinned to his windbreaker in case he wanders away. No, it’s the newspaper reporter business you may find unlikely. READ MORE
For the non-using addict or the non-drinking alcoholic, life demands some kind of solution. There are a lot of them, and over the course of this month we’ll explore some of the major ones. READ MORE
September is National Recovery Month, whatever meaning that may have. It’s also, National Yoga Month, National Honey Month and National Prostate Health Month. Once you’ve relaxed, sweetened-up and prepared for a prodding, think about those around you who have escaped the need for escape, who have managed to live life without chemical assistance and who have transformed their lives from quiet desperation to quieter inspiration. And know, really and for true, that if you need help in that transformation, people like me and everyone else at Hope for New Hampshire Recovery are there for you. READ MORE
When Lucy and I found each other, she was about three or five — who can tell, really? — and still had a lot of puppy in her. For instance, she had some very strong ideas about where various animals belonged in the universe. When she saw a bird on the ground, a squirrel out of a tree or a woodchuck above the earth, Lucy would make damn sure they got back to their rightful habitats. READ MORE
I discovered a serious blow to my solitary life, a slap to my hermitic face, a forced attack on my writer’s retreat. Some bastard left a bushel of progress at the Tiny White Box, and I didn’t have the opportunity to refuse to sign for it. Let me explain.
The Tiny White Box we live in is a converted motorcycle trailer that’s six-feet wide and 12-feet long. Inside is a bed for one-and-a-half (sorry, Sam), a coffee pot, a couple lamps, heat, a microwave and, most important, refuge from the rest of the world for me to write. READ MORE
Yesterday, Hope for New Hampshire Recovery’s board of directors sent out a too-kind press release announcing my departure. This release was gratifying to read, of course, but made me sound much more professional and serious than I am. In the interest of setting the record straight, I’ve composed an alternate release. READ MORE
It’s seven a.m., November 8, 2023. Soon, I’ll board a bus to Boston to take the T and a bus to West Roxbury. There, I’ll walk into the VA hospital to be chemically knocked out. A surgical team will put an instrument down my throat. That mechanism will, I believe, snip off tiny bits of the nodule in my lung and, perhaps, a sample of nearby lymph nodes. These pieces of me—and how strange to think of a cancer as part of ME—will be sent off to mystics and sorcerers in the mountains—sorry, I mean pathologists in a lab. They’ll read my entrails and divine my future. What a funny world, huh? READ MORE
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