A Weekend in San Francisco

This has been an emotionally wrenching trip and weekend. I am lucky to be sitting at home, sipping coffee on my RDO, staring out the window. My mind is spinning from the happenings from the last few days.

One of my truly good friends - who I'll call D - is fast becoming an alcoholic, if he isn't one already. D graduated from Berkeley two years after I did, struggling to overcome a seizure disorder, abuse and a dozen other dark secrets of which I am only partially privy to. His life had become an After School Special, and I guess we were tired of watching.

Still, the decision on what to do was tough. Really tough. The first issue revolved around religion, since almost all of the rehab centers - and AA itself - require a belief in a "higher power."

I grew up Catholic. Though I have had my struggles with the church, I am not ready to call the whole thing a wash. Many of the others in our surreal planning group, however, are strongly anti-religious, almost, frankly, to the point of close-mindedness. Though D and I have had numerous talks about God (a hazard of my philosophy degree), it was always in the abstract, and I have no I idea what he believes or if, indeed, he believes in anything at all.

This discussion, as many do, came down to practicalities. The Salvation Army is free, residential and voluntary. And, furthermore, it was only a suggestion. We were not going to demand that D go to the Salvation Army, only that he consider it.

D is, after all, an adult, and if it does not fit him, he can move on. If he doesn't like the place, he can do his own research, and find a place that better suits him. But I'm hoping he stays. He needs a place to live, first off, and I can't imagine that a bit of God talk will turn his stomach too much, regardless of what his heart tells him is true.

I flew from Burbank to Oakland on Saturday night, my heart in knots. I had no idea how D was going to react. The six of us were, after all, jumping on him, feet-first, trying to overwhelm him with the idea that he has a problem. Would he be upset? Almost certainly. Would he listen? I did not know.

But he did. It worked out much better than expected. He acknowledged that he had been drinking far too much, that it was affecting his life. We asked him if he wanted to change things around, and he said he would. My buddy Joe checked him in to the Salvation Army in Oakland on Monday.

Though I'm concerned that he wilted too quickly, that he simply told us what we wanted to hear, I am heartened by the fact he is now in rehab. It will not be easy, and maybe not possible, to fake it there. I hope he makes it. He deserves a life, as we all do.