The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1917-05-19
DOMAIN OF TEMPERANCE
HOW AN EVERY-SENSE DRUNK
ARD CAME BACK.

My drinking began, where the drink
ing with so many men begins, in my
own family | dined frequently at my
uncle's house, and especially on 'oc-
casions" wine was served to the adult
members of the party My feeling
was what my father and mother could
drink could certainly bring no harm
to me! Shortly after that when 1
went to college, l had beer and bis
cults. Why not?
My uncle invited me to dine with
him at his hotel. Champagne was
ordered, and 1 determined to decline
any wine. AS the waiter was about
to fill my glass, and before | could
raise my hand to stop him, my uncle
checked him with a quizzical smile
and said: Don't give him any of
that. It's too good stuff for boys"
| finished my dinner in more or less
sulky silence. No sooner was l in the
street and master of my own actions
| than I made for the nearest bar-room
and swallowed several drinks in rapid
| succession, for no other reason than
|
self, if to nobody else on earth, that
I was a man
| By the time | was thirty-five I had
accustomed myself to morning 'brac-
er;" one and then two, and then
later, several cocktails before meals;
wine, beer, or whisky and soda at
table; a "nightcap,' which rapidly
increased in potency and amount, at
bedtime; and an untold number of
| drinks OF one sort or another at odd
times during the day. Before | was
forty I had settled down practically to
straight whisky as the only thing
that would satisfy my craving and
steady my nerves, and was consum-
ing anywhere from a quart to quart
and a half every twenty-four hours.
| made a single heroic effort to
cast Off my chains by stopping my
stimulant abruptly, and within a few
hours I developed alcoholic convul-
sions, followed by terrific attack of
dellrum tremens. At no time through
out this attack was it thought by my
| physicians that | could live from one
hour to the next. Yet here | am back.
at my desk, mentally and morally
sound. Why did l ever permit my
self to sink to the level which | have
so freely admitted that l once reach
ed? I firmly believed that l was the
victim OF disease and that my case
was hopeless. l know better now.
am not a fanatic on the subject
of either drink, temperance or total
| abstinence. [ have no particular
quarrel with the man who can and
does drink in moderation and with
no apparent i'll effect, except that [
always shudder at the thought of what
may be in store for that man if he
should misjudge his own power of
self-control, as 1 did in the early years
OF my life. A very definite proportion
OF habitual drunkards can be saved
| from themselves and from the vice
that grips them just as soon as their
minds, are Invested of this pernicious
notion that disease" is at the root
of their failing. If they can sober
up" sufficiently to grasp this simple
| truth and idea ever so feebly, hope
will creep into their hearts, and from
| hope will come achievement. Habitual
drunkenness is nothing more than a
protracted dependence on a chemical
crutch for mental and physical sup
| port.
Many of us remember, when we were
learning to ride a bicycle or drive a
car, how wave of apprehension would
sweep over us whenever we neared a
| pedestrian, an approaching vehicle,
or wayside telegraph pole, and i'm
| pei us to head straight for him or it!
Why was it? Just because we lack
ed confidence in ourselves. So it is
| with the confirmed alcoholic who is
making an honest effort to ''cut OUT
the whisky. He lacks confidence in
himself. Every nerve in his body is
| crying for relief and he is afraid of
| himself and the weakness that is with
in him. Naturally he succumbs more
| quickly to the lure of whiskey if he
| regards his case as hopeless because
he thinks he has disease If his
''crutch" is at hand the temptation to
use it is well-nigh irresistible.
| = pal Ladies Home Journal