You Really Can't Judge... an Introspective

I am embarrassed to write this, but for some reason, it's important to me to get this out. I apologize in advance to my family if this brings up any unhappy memories, or if this is a family secret I shouldn't be repeating.

When I was young, my father drank too much. Okay, those of you who know me know I drink too much, too. Genetics? I dunno. Maybe so. But, in my case at least, it's self-medication and helps to keep what I call the spitting cobras in their baskets. I will say, at this point in my life, I am sure I don't have nearly the overwhelming obstacles he faced back then.

I can't speak for my brothers (we never talked about it), but I will tell you that this never concerned me that much. I just figured that's how Dad copes and let it go. I do know that my sister, Anne, was bothered by it as she often talked about it (we were always close).

Anyway, one day, in my early teens, after he had been drinking, he said something to me that ticked me off. So, being a smart-aleck teenager, I replied, "Maybe we can talk about this after you sober up!" He stared at me for a long, long moment.

Now, my dad had beautiful blue eyes. Normally, they reminded me of a bright summer sky or a sunlit lake. But, at that moment, they looked as cold as ice.

He calmly said to me, "You think you're a big shot, don't you? Well, you're not. You're just a big shit!" And, he turned and walked away.

I have never been so mortified before or since. I sincerely wished the ground would open and swallow me up. And, to this day, I try never, ever to judge another's actions.

P.S. My father eventually quit drinking and his last years were spent with his eyes clear and always looking like a summer's sky.