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Tuesday, October 11, 2005

A Parents Love?

The causes of drug and alcohol addictions are varied and in some cases hotly debated.
Is it genetics? upbringing?caused by sexual abuse by pedophiles?peer pressure,is it a factor?certainly the first drink,the first joint might be contributed to social pressures,but what of the continues use?Why is one child a future addict and the other a normal social drinker or even abstainer?
Could it be just a matter of circumstances and choices?I have alway believed that I became addicted through no other hand then my own.
I am still of the notion that ultiminity one has to take responsiblity for his own actions,but it is increasely difficult for me to deny the statstics.

I recently discovered a wonderful website Joshua Childrens Foundation and was more then a little surprised to find out that they claim a very high percentage of persons with Bulimia and Eating Disorders,Alcoholism,and Addictions have been sexually abused as children.Even cases of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and Dissociation have been linked to sexual abuse.The list goes on and on.It would seem that I was doomed from the start!

However,why will one child come forward in the very early stages of abuse,therefore stopping it perhaps before permant harm is done,and they get help,while the next child remains silent,and the abuse continues,often for years?This is where the factor of nuturing comes in,to my untrained eye at least.

This is supposed be a web page where I use entertaining tales in an effort to educate and perhaps even inspire someone to come forward and seek the help they need.This wheere I will try and tie in my point of one child comes forward,and one child does not.I can only use myself as an example.
I have talked about the abuse I received as a Boy Scout but there was an earlier time in my Scouting career,where,with a different leader (no John Q in this one)(whoops,another hint to his idendity,how many last names start with Q?) I learn many useful things and enjoyed the time away from Parents,maybe a little more then the other children. I present to you
I remember the excitement I felt that day as if it was yesterday,it was a warm spring day,the air was clear,the breeze brought with it a smell that every one who as ever been raised in the country side would recognizes.A pleasant odor,sort of a cross between lialic and manure,not the overwhelming scent of fresh barn manure,but the sweet warm smell all rural dwellers associate with pastures and meadows,with a hint of fresh cut hay mingled with it as well.

A small group of us where fidgeting nervously,standing in the parking lot,shuffling our feet as if cold,hands dug deep into pockets as if to warm them as well.It was not cold we shivered from,it was anticipation.
Conversation was almost nil,just the odd whisper between us,as if we were guarding some dark secret,or planning some dastardly deed.An occasional glance towards the school,and then off towards the street,was the only hint of what was to come. The large three story red brick building,which announced proudly,engraven into the granite header of the heavy double doors,that it had been constructed in 1909,sat silent.

If one could have listened through those heavy walls into the large square classrooms,numbered three to eight,you would have still heard the teachers intoning in their dry monotone to the remaining students,not us,we,the fortunate ones, had been dismissed early.
Although it was not a school sanctutioned event that we were to attend,it none the less had the outmost approval of the founding fathers of the school,and their elected officials.
In a genaration reared by the greatest of all generations,as those who fought and lived through the great second world war were to become known,it was not at all surprising to see young men in uniform,even those as young as I.I had spent two long years longing to wear that uniform,ever since I first saw an elder boy wearing one,but alas,I had to wait till the ripe old age of eight before being allowed to wear the green and gray.I was as proud of that uniform as a Naval Officer in Dress Whites,and there was not a button out of place,banner hung crooked or a shoe not shined to it's blackest brillance.

The first of the parents velehicles,and here is another memory crystal clear,a 1949 Chevrolet one-ton truck,the sun glistening off of the incredibly black exterior,came down the street and then veered into the school yard.The truck wound its way past the group of us young men,the occupants totally ignoring us, and parked in a spot most often used by those who had come to the school on business,not the accustomed visitors parking lot.No such minor role would the occupants play,by parking in an official post,they were proclaiming their independence and announcing their importance.Their presence was made all the more conspicuous by their next actions.The couple,as it could now be seen,a man and woman,both at or near fourty years of age,did not appraoch the group of young men,but sat silently in their conveance,as if they too were waiting for some event to transpire.

They did not have to wait long,a steady stream of cars and one other truck were soon to arrive on the scene,and the last mode of transport to arrive was a bright yellow school bus,arriving in a hurry,the driver swinging open the passenger door before the dust had even settled around it.Out of the bus sprang a young man of approximate twenty five years of age,and he also was drapped in the colours of green and gray.Not the short pants for him,he had on full leggings,and instead of the benie caps with the bright green button on top that we wore,his head was adorned by a Stetson,the felt creases perfectly formed,the tilt a perfect 22.5 degrees.This was the Scoutmaster,and no pocket novel hero was more respected and held in awe,to us he WAS Lord Baden Powell himself,no one could be more feared and revered at the same time.He stood waiting,as if we all knew what was expected of us,but none moved,it was as if we were frozen in our awe of him.

Finally,with a look that I became to associste with annoyance,he pulled from his front shirt pocket,an official whislte,which could be purchased at the Army and Navy Surplus store for $1.02,a months allowance.I will always remember that whisle and the price of it,as it was a young boys dream to own such a whislte,but of course,that was a "toy"so would not be allowed.The shrill blast brought to an end any last minute giggling and nervous chatter,and we guickly ran to stand proudly before him,in our best imitation of what we thought was the appropriate "at attention" stance.This was it,this was to be the first taste for many of us on what it would be like to away from home without parents for the very first time.I know for myself it was such an occasion,and one held with great anticipitation.

I was eight years of age,my birthday having occured some weeks before,otherwise I would have had to wait out yet another full year before joining the proud ranks of the Boy Scouts of Canada,Cub Division.This was to be a wilderness expedition,no contact with the outside world for the next fourty eight hours,we would be traveling by bus some thirty five miles to a region romantically called the Last Mountains,from which the near by lake and park takes their name.It (the park) boosts of being North Americas Oldest Wildlife Sanctuary.

The name it's self must have been some early settlers idea of a joke,as the range of hills which consisted of the Last Mountains never rose more then a thousand feet above the prairie landscape.The hills,which where lined with gullies and ravines,and dotted with willow bushes in the low land,and bald prairie with actual low creeping catus plants on top,was an area somehow missed by the Great Landscaper some ten thousands years earlier when the Glacier Ice pushed flat this fertile land,creating the great Mid-West,and thereby providing the greatest growing area in the world a little distraction from the flatness.Though short in stature,and only running some fifteen miles in length,there a none the less a forbidable wilderness,where a misstep could cause a broken limb,and where a lack of concentration could lead to all sorts of misadventure.

There were many stories of lost souls coming to an untimely end,though those tales were always about "some traveller"and never a local.Perhap they were tales to frighten young children?such was the proven method of instruction,look to any fairy tale.Dangerous or not,they were real wilderness,there where no roads,we would hike in the last three miles,and pitch camp in the famous bell tents,and cook from an open fire,and be taught survival skills,at a time when it was still allowed to place children in danger so that they could properly learn,Ahh,the good old days,there is a lot to say for them.

It was with great anticipitation,and some misgiving,that we were setting out on this journey towards manhood,this step back into a more primitive time,a time where your wits were more important then your looks or hertitage,a time when all that was required was hard work to be accepted,and no one ever questioned your past,and the only difference between people was what time they ate breakfast,as there was a large debate,eat before the chores or after?In our home the answer was after,a hour or so in the fresh air and the barn,where the air was not so fresh,was a great stimulate to appetite.

As was be fitting such a great undertaking,all of our parents were there to see us off,in fact it was mine own adopted pair that were sitting in that shinny black truck,a truck that was to have a profound affect on my life a few years later,however that is another narrative.

I was taken back,I was in wonder and some what in awe,for unfolding around me,where events that not only had I never seen before,but had never even imagined could happen.Nothing in my eight long years could prepare me for the scene I was observing for the first time.I had never obserbed such behaviour before!
Grown men and women,many with actual tears in their eyes,were clutching at their sons,hugging them,and even KISSING them,and not just the mothers,but actual fathers,grown men as well,and from all corners I could hear unfamiliar phrases such as
"I love you"Be careful,we love you""Good bye son,be careful"

This indeed was something new,this seemed like a good idea,one that I was going to be very happy and proud to be a part of,surely it was only a few more moments before it was my turn to be granted such a grandiose send off.I glance around,my eyes darting back and forth,my head darting from side to side,peering through the throng of people,searching out for my parents.There they where!,that was not them,they where still as they had been,sitting in the truck,but wait...the door is opening! This is it! MY PARENTS WERE GOING TO BE LIKE THE OTHERS!Father speaks,in that booming Drill Sergeant's voice:
"Hurry up and get on the bus,we have to go pick up feed.What the Hell are you waiting for GO!"
Oh,you have to pick up feed?,I understand now,then thats okay Mom,thats okay Dad,as long as there is a good reason,off you go now,get the feed,I'll see you when I get back........and I pray that I never have to.

Remember,there is help for Drug & Alcohol Addictions,be a victim no longer!
Parents,love your children,but most importantly talk to them,be aware of where they go and who they are with.Tell them it's okay to make mistakes,and please,every day,tell your children you love them! Make yourselves approachable,do not let them fear you to the point where they feel they must hide what they do.

I invite as always your comments and suggestions.Please,save your MLM and other promotions,I promote only God and myself! I send out a silent Prayer for Victims of Sexual Abuse,you never need feel alone again.Come forward,email me,we will climb the Mountain together.

To insure you never miss a post,simply email with the word READ in the subject header.and with that,I will bide you fair well,go now and read some Happy Tales of Misery and Suffering!


At 6:14 AM, Anonymous meg said...

Strange how you don't realise a lack in one's life, until you notice how another lives. Very emotional bit of writing, tears at the heart Doug, such experiences have made you strong though Doug, thanks for sharing it with us all.


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