Whistler’s Senior Paper

I love hearing that sober people are still sober. Does that make sense? I mean when I read or hear celebrities and everyday people say something that lets me know they’re still sober. They’re background affirmations, proof that sober life works for those who, well, work it.

You may recognize Whistler from guest posts here or from comments on other sober blogs. He’s a rare breed who never set foot in a recovery meeting and never waivered in his commitment to stay sober and get the most out of his new life. He celebrates three years sober this month and wrote the following to share…please join me in congratulating Whistler on his three years.


I was given this assignment over a week ago. My teacher is very strict by the way, and I am feeling the pressure. I would advise anyone who wants to recall early sobriety details to keep some sort of diary or you can just take a chance, be like me, and remember next to nothing. I have always hoped for a brain like Hans Delbrück but I am very much closer to Holden Caulfield. So I will write this crumby paper but it won’t be like old Hans could have served up.

First off I should let you know that some things change after three years, some things don’t. Your body continues to change. It’s basically an uncontrollable Christmas present like the first two years so things like vision and skin continue to improve and you are able to do a little basic math in your head again.

But be warned some of the weight you lost in year one and kept mostly off in the second year may return (don’t worry the fat has morphed into something different than the booze fat and you just know it’s the kind of fat you could lose in minutes if you really wanted to). The thing that does not change – the thing that remains the gold standard of not changing – is that everybody on the roadway except you still cannot drive worth spit.

My assignment is supposed to be about what this third year of not drinking has been like. Maybe I can compare the last three years to high school.

Freshman year is just a complete swirl of confusion and second guessing about self and life in general. But it’s OK, everyone is still in braces at that point so we just keep our head down, do our homework, and don’t hang out with upper classmen.

Sophomore year. What can I tell you. Totally forgettable. But… one of the most informative years and you do some of your best work in year two. You learn lots about yourself and begin to get an idea of where you’d like to go when you graduate. You show signs of maturing.

And then comes the Junior year. My favorite.

The most serious year so far, you know enough to understand what it takes and you apply what you’ve learned. You become comfortable with yourself enough to begin to want to be a part of things. Rip Van Winkle stretching himself awake. A terrific year really. It serves as the foundation for what’s to come.

And what’s still to come is that Senior year, when catching Senioritis and thinking you’ve become bullet proof can get you kicked out of school. Got to be careful, there will be moments. I will need to plan ahead, avoid traps. I am not going to worry it to death but I’m not going to take it for granted either. Other than that if it is anything like the last three years, it promises to be a slow steady gift box of surprises and revelations.

I guess everyone says this. I did not expect it to be like this. I just knew I had to stop. I had no idea what I was missing. No idea.

Auto train

Recently we took the auto train from Lorton, VA to Sanford, FL. The train somehow takes several hours longer than driving, but saves close to a thousand miles of wear and tear on your car and souls. Case in point: we talked to a woman whose husband ran over an orange traffic cone in the wee hours during their drive down, destroying part of their fender and rendering her unable to sleep the rest of the way. They were staying an extra night at Disney just to delay the return trip. 

We’ve done the Disney thing more times than I care to admit, but this time decided to save on airfare and spring for adventure by driving. Why not? I had fond memories of the 16+ hour drive from Northeast PA to suburban Chicago when our oldest was just a baby.  Actually, the only thing I remember was playing “the diaper game” in the backseat. (I feel I should explain the rules of “the diaper game”. Player one places a (clean) cloth diaper over their head and removes it suddenly, repeatedly and with pauses of varying lengths. Player two laughs, cries, eventually falls asleep. I  imagine some of you have played before.) 

About two months before our vacation, I had a sudden epiphany: Driving 34 hours round trip with two kids in the backseat was a terrible idea! I googled alternatives and learned about the auto train, which delivers you and your car 900 miles away, sparing precious wear and tear and sanity.  We booked two sleeper rooms for about the price of airfare. Train travel is not cheaper nor faster than flying, but it was a unique experience and interesting way to see part of the country.

We boarded in late afternoon and our kids took the room across the hall. I reverted to teenager and listened to sweeping cinematic music on earbuds while my husband watched old episodes of Mr. Show on his laptop. We shared a box of Mike and Ikes. It felt terribly romantic.

Yelp reviewers promised ugly, barren landscapes, so I was pleasantly surprised by sunlit bridges and marshlands brimming with life. We barreled past miles of graffiti, which I happen to love very much. I snapped picture after blurry picture from my camera phone, though some turned out. 

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I listened to sappy soundtracks, stared out the window for hours and ate candy. I finally know what my dream job is.

The dining car was pretty swanky. There were white linen table cloths and chinette bowls that looked real but cracked if you pushed too hard with your knife. There were real glass carafes filled with real iced tea and water. Best of all, there were four of us, so we didn’t have to sit with strangers.

That’s something all you introverts need to know about train travel. If you travel alone, you’ll be seated with strangers at meal time. Strangers! On a train! In the name of research and hunger, my husband and I sat with a mother and her adult daughter at breakfast the next morning while the kids slept in. We sat with a mother and her grown daughter at breakfast the next morning while the kids slept in. The daughter asked what side of the train our room was on and declared the views were better from the other side. None of us brought up “criss-crossing” murders, so the whole exchange was disappointing. I shall forever train travel in groups of four or else feign a medical condition to have meals delivered roomside.

Let’s talk about sway, shall we? You know how when you have to stand on the subway or bus and hold onto a filthy pole for dear life? Trains are no different except instead of filthy poles, you grab onto seats and sometimes the people sitting in them. It’s survival, done without much fanfare or apology. You falter, you lunge, you grab with high hopes and minimal eye contact. You mostly stay in your seat to avoid these matter-of-factly-horrifying encounters.

Let’s talk about sleep, shall we? I love to talk about it since I rarely see it otherwise. Sleep and I are like part time lovers. I don’t know what he’s up to otherwise, but we get along pretty well when he comes around. I don’t think he cares for train rides. I laid awake most of the night waiting up, even taking a homeopathic remedy in hopes he too would climb the ladder to the top bunk and smash his head on the ceiling. But I only caught a few dreamy snippets…him sitting across from me in that blue smoking jacket I like so much…him pointing out the picture window at a particularly homey looking hobo camp. Sleep was more snack than meal, but still better than trying to doze sitting up in a car while my husband ran over orange traffic cones.

We arrived whole and mostly refreshed at our destination. Our car met us after a lengthy unloading process and was all “hey what are you guys doing here?” We shook our heads and climbed in and drove him to Disney and later Hilton Head and Home.

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The thing I liked best about this trip was the variety. We fought heat and crowds and bickering, but also found comfort and peace and quiet. We rode bikes on the beach and looked for alligators in lagoons. We laughed, we cried, eventually we all fell asleep.

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