Hunger and Hungry Times

I was coming home by bus from the Docs Office and the store. And, I'd bought more, and heavier Groceries than I should have. Never go Shopping while Hungry.

Now, I faced a killer Hill. Smoketown is a killer town for Hills and the temperature was 90 degrees eff.  So I set off to walk up the Street to cut through the Smoketown Baptist Church. I was already huffing and puffing after 100 feet and my healed fracture was starting to cry for attention. Usually it is just A dull ache. But now it was really hurting.

My salvation came in the form of two elderly ladies in a sedan who stopped and offered a ride. I was happy to accept!

As we ride up the hill we introduced ourselves. One of them started telling me stories;

"I used to live on C street. I've been in your house! All us kids knew the Stranges. I grew up with Olivar Strange and Gommer. Did you meet them?"

She started telling me stories about the people on my street. How;

"We kids played in everyone's yards and ate out of everyone's refrigerator. Except we didn't eat from some refrigerators 'cause there was nothing in them."

  "My mom said"

"she didn't mind"

"cause as she said;"

"No child should go hungry because there's no food."

I remember those days a little myself. It takes a community. Where are they?

The Archetype of the little Junkie Whore

But there are other kinds of Hunger. I get home & there was a message on my phone. My Neice Mara died!

I wanted to cry!

My sister Amber was besides herself. She was crying uncontrollably. Though the whole thing wasn't unexpected.

"She was doing so good and ..." Amber

Me: "What happened?"

Amber: "Well, you know, she's been looking for work and..."

"She Got paid..."

"She copped"

"She died in the breakroom toilet."

This was all so Deja Vu! How many late friends, relatives, acquaintances, in laws, could I tell similar stories about. But Mara was a name with a face. A face I had fond memories of. One I remembered:

young, growing, smart, vibrant.

Riding rides at Kings Dominions, Six Flags,

visiting the Zoos, Smithsonian, National Aquarium.

Family get togethers, family picnics.

Racing my other nieces and nephews.

 

She was someone I expected to outlive me.

My hopes in her.

Show me beautiful children.

All things that are never to be.

Instead the sad statistical Chorus;

"Oh I'm so sad!"

First Shock, then a torrent of memories. If I were casting for a play Amber, Mara and all of them could be played by the same actress. Blond, pretty transformed into a junkie.  From a wonderful person loaded with potential to some one damaged. She had been transformed by hunger into a little Junkie whore.

It has happened to so many before!

The beatiful High School cheerleader I was so jealous of,

riding her horses outside my town.

Wearing a Cinderella at the Ball Dance at the Prom.

Years later, wasting away,

Drugs turned her, my niece, them into Zombies.

One day.

The Details

The details with my niece were all the more tragic, mostly for being my niece. Strait a Student. Excellent gymnast. She could do things on the rings that were Astounding. If she hadn't discovered boys and drugs. Pretty much in that order, Heck her mom figured she might have made the olympics. My other niece, my other sister and several friends discovered boys at the same age, but they lucked out and married the love of her life. Not so lucky Amber. Hers was the short straw. Literally.

My Sis was beside herself. I had to rent a car to go to her. I drove 100 miles to Cincinnati where she lives with her second Husband Andy, who took her in despite everything. Andy raised Mara. Sis's first husband was a two timing prick. He seemed nice enough til he married her. But once he'd conned her into marrying her he made her life miserable for two years and then mercifully departed. Ran off with a new victim. He didn't want the responsibility of children, Mara, who my Sister was pregnant with.  I guess my sister Amber, but for Andy, might have been a "little junkie whore" herself. Thank God for reprieves.

Andy took her in. Coached Mara's birth, raised her as his own. He was more brother than brother in law. Ex Special Forces, all round tough guy. And all heart. He set an example. He lived a life, strait and narrow. Exemplary. She grew up under his guidance and started college with a scholarship.

They Grow up — or Do they?

But kids grow up.  They can start down a good path and wind up in the woods.

Andy had been the rock of that small family. But then he was felled by a heart attack. Amber Took it hard. But Mara came unglued.

Intervention

I guess that is what happened to Mara. But I've seen it happen without sorrow or obvious cause. There are always enticing flowers, whispering spirits and other temptations. In her case the wolves were guys who loved to party. She discovered boys. Not just boys, bad boys.

She started hanging with the wrong boys, the bad friends, parties. The Raver Scene. Getting "high" becomes a full time job, with a higher and higher price each day. She discovered Molly.

She told me. I had to look up what that was. She started using both amphetamines and opioids. The rest was almost inevitable unless she could join all my other relatives in AA/NA/Adult Children or some other alternative path. Amber did an intervention. I was there. Instead of Mara listening, she lashed out. Mara thought she was too smart to become an addict. I guess she outsmarted herself. She would say "some day" — that day never came.

All Grown up Means Consequences

I know how it feels to be "all grown up", smart and confident. And how easy it is to outsmart oneself. Done that, been there, found out I wasn't that smart. Learned to be confident and to weigh my confidence against the possibility "I could be wrong." Heck, often I may be wrong. Sometimes I am wrong. Unfortunately, growing up has stages, and the stage of hubris is one many of us never pass. It's like a life or death class. Mara was wrong. She wasn't infallible. She became a little junkie whore.

There But for the Grace of God...

When you get so desperate for validation and money to buy a fix that you'll sell your momentos, stuff stolen from loved ones, your own ass. That is a level of desperation that addiction brings people to. It is easy to judge them, especially when they are family an one has to get a restraining order to avoid them stealing everything we have, but;

"There but for the Grace of God Go I."

But for:

• a decision not to give a needle a try.
• An injury that causes massive chronic pain.
• An Undeniably massive sprain.
• Or And an over-eager doctor determined to ease the hurt.

...but for grace ...

.... Could go any of us.

Grace;

"the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings."

Or Simply the refinement, elegance and beauty of movement that Universe sometimes manifests for us, when we are on our right path.

Who knows, but I live for grace, because this world seem unmerciful without it.

If there is a God, may I receive it. If not, may I merit grace anyway.

There is a reason the Good Books say "Judge not less ye be judged."

Those of us who judge others, are least prepared for the shoe being on our own feet.

Oh it was pure luck and grace that allowed me, when my foot was too swollen to resist taking that little Oxycodone pill the doc gave me. I was fortunate I resisted refilling the prescription when it ran out. It wasn't my smarts or intelligence. The pain was too strong for me to have resisted despite fear of getting resisted. But I listened to a better voice, somewhere. Redemption, grace, mercy, whatever you call it. I'm alive and I did not go down that path. I was spared.

Maybe that voice plus fear was strong enough for me, but I know others who had the same circumstances and started a downward slide. And many who had avoided drugs and alcohol for years and still wound up dead from an overdose. It is no accident that the first step for recovery from addiction is to admit we are powerless over somethings. I'm no more resistant to drugs and the lure of alcohol than poor Mara. Or my dead sister Lucy who died of an overdose the same way Mara did. Indeed, my first reaction was the urge to go to the closet and take out some alcohol I have there. I didn't. All I could do was to pray and say:

refrain: "There but for the grace of God Go I."

A Prayer

And I know there is an ineffable weird sort of near sentience to this Universe. Sometimes the Ineffable One even seems to hear me. I was praying for Mara. Now I was praying for Amber. Let us Pray:

Lord of the Universe

Please, we humbly beseech thee

Please, Hear our prayer, to redeem those we love

And take pity on the wounded, and raise up the fallen.

To spare the children such pain and woe

From the deeds we committed and the seeds we sow.

Please forgive us, for we still know not what we do

And have mercy on our arrogance, for we suffer from that too.

Please Spare the innocent, and graciously save them from their brothers.

And please save some grace for the foolish, who walk into snares unawares.

Please??

All I Could do was Pray.

And all I could do was to pray with my sister, pray with my family. Get on my knees. And yes, rage against A God who allows us humans to be so ignorant and deceitful, deluded and confused. Raging against a God I can never be sure actually exists within this material Universe. Denying Him doesn't seem to work well either. I can only rage against him in the hope that there is some sort of omniscient beneficient reason for all this absurd insanity. Either the Ineffable One has such an inscrutable purpose, or a random weird sense of humor not funny to US microscopic humans.

There are all kinds of hunger. Some much worse than a skipped lunch. My Neice is dead because of one kind. I mourn her. The bitterness in my soul is like an ulcer. Consequences or Grace? Grace and Consequences is usually the reality.

Notes

I'm finally writing down my book "Dreams in Winter." Mara is fictional. But don't take comfort. She's a composite of others I've known.