Getting Old Makes Cassandras of Us All
By: Orrin Onken
Tags: Alcholism, Aging, Additction, Recovery

We can predict the future, but no one will believe us

In Greek mythology, Cassandra was a Trojan priestess. To win her love, Apollo gave her the ability to see the future. When she still rejected his overtures, he became angry, and, finding that he could not revoke the gift, he cursed her so that no matter how true her prophecies, no one would ever believe her.

Aging, particularly aging in recovery, makes Cassandras of us all. We can see younger people — sometimes family, sometimes people in the recovery community — taking roads that we have traveled. We attempt to tell them where the road leads, but they cannot believe us.

I had a sponsor named Roger. I was practicing law and Roger was a retired lawyer. I went to Roger one day and said to him, “Roger, I am suffering financial insecurity. I am worried that my law practice will fail, I will go bankrupt, and I will let everybody down. What should I do?”

Roger said, “Orrin, go to work every morning. There is always work to do in the office, even when you don’t have clients. Practice law to the best of your ability. Be honest and do our program. The money will take care of itself.”

I thanked Roger for his advice and decided that going to him had been a complete waste of time. He was a crazy old coot who had retired so long ago he had forgotten what it was really like trying to make it in a law practice. I did, however, do what he suggested. It wasn’t because he suggested it, but because I didn’t have any other ideas. It turned out he was right. I showed up every day, made sure I was there to answer the door when opportunity knocked, and eventually — not as quickly as I would have liked, mind you — the money took care of itself.

Not so long ago, I was lamenting with my wife the plight of a relative of ours. The young lady is alcoholic, broke, and living in a tent with her like-minded boyfriend. Winter had come to Oregon, and the weather was not being kind to people living in tents. I looked around at our warm and comfortable home and thought that our ne’er-do-well family member might one day compare her conditions to ours, see the error of her ways, and adopt a way of living that led to having a peaceful and secure place to live. Maybe I could talk to her and convince her to make a change. Why not?

Then I remembered my own past. Just like this young woman, I had a tavern family. The denizens of my tavern were united in spirit and outlook. We had discovered a new way to live. We and looked down upon and mocked people who live like I do now, people encumbered by homes and nine-to-five jobs, people paying their bills and supporting their families. Every member of my tavern family was on a fast track toward physical, emotional and socio-economic collapse, but we would not be deterred. Back then, people who had traveled the road of life before me tried to tell me where my drinking would lead, and I refused to believe them or even hear it.

My young relative will find her way, or she won’t. I can tell her where her current behaviors will take her, but I am cursed like Cassandra. She will not believe me. It took a long time for me to accept that I cannot pass on what I have learned in life to younger people. The world would be a better place if that were possible.

In the Old Testament, Job ascribes wisdom to the aged, and a lot of writers have repeated the old chestnut about elders and wisdom. Accepting it as true, one might think that the young could benefit from that wisdom by listening to what the aged have to say. But that is not how it works. Wisdom, if such a thing exists in elders or anybody, appears to be a very personal grace. There is a saying in recovery that you can’t give away what you don’t have. In many cases you can’t even give away what you have. Old age makes Cassandras of us all.