I quit getting a steam at the Helsinki. I have a stack of writings I often doubt I will ever see them committed to a book. One cannot go through life and have lived without giving ugly a second look. These stories are not the mishaps of life shared over a beer or an elk hunting camp fire. No one wants to visit these true stories or slip on the jacket of remembrance as attire. I refuse to use a name, attach it to a story, as the reader you are allowed to fill the blank. There is a common thread that runs in these stories each leading to the drink to thank. I can count to twenty one on fingers and toes but even that crude tally does not give fair cover. All the pals that were lost at the terrible cost when they took to bottle as counselor or lover. No shock and gore can add to this lore so forgive me as I pass over on the details. I can tell you one thing my counting goes back to my uncle Ed as he hitched a ride on Butte rails. We have a friend or a cousin or we know firsthand a Butte Rat who did fall prey to the drink. And the collateral damage is just the exact opposite as we know no loved ones welcome the link. I see the death of young men in cities like Chicago killing each other with each other’s hand, I see Butte in reflection it is numbed by death of the Butte hard drinker dying glass in hand. It is not our fault it was the rule of the camp there will always be that one who could not put it down. We could have bought many of those fella’s a meal instead of drink or another round. I think it does one good to revisit those troubled souls lives quietly in one’s head and heart. I was doing just that today about a good friend who I am sure unintentionally vacated his part. It should never have happened and like all the others there is not one person who wishes differently. It is that honest look, that painful remembrance for the one who could not accept difficulty. I count the blessings I knew them, these friends who have gone and I know others share that thought. Time allotted on this earth and for some particular reason in Butte can disappear before it is sought. I don’t toast their lives any more, thanks to them and the lessons taught I no longer drink. Like it or not the drink is part of Butte history, we just need to adjust at how we accept and think.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Jul 2013 09:03:45 +0000
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