Chapter 3

   CHAPTER 3
    LOOKING AHEAD

The year 1981 drew to an end and Patty and I celebrated New Year's Eve together. We were alone at her sister’s place; Mary Ann and her family were celebrating with others that night. It was that night that we understood that our relationship was more than just a casual one, and from that point on, we saw each other more frequently. Saturday nights were ours, alone together. Wednesday evenings became somewhat of a ritual visit for me to her home. What neither of us knew was that she would end up sharing my attention with her niece and two nephews, Dottie, Jack, and Nicky, at least until their bedtime came. Neither of us minded, and the kids loved the extra attention. They would rush to beat each other out for a seat on either side of me on the sofa each week. I enjoyed their affection almost as much as I did Patty’s.

     Aunt Patty was a favorite of the kids: not just these three, but her other brothers’ and sisters’ kids too. When the family got together, she would make time for them while the other adults were at the table talking. Our nieces especially still tell her how much that meant to them. She knew how to make those kids feel special. Our nephew Jack often tells us how much our attention meant to him. Sometimes you don’t realize how much of an impact you’ve helped make until someone has .told you so. It’s important to be there whenever you can be a help to someone. This is especially true with family and your closest friends.

    Not long after the year 1982 started. Mary Ann had a family birthday party for Nicky. His birthday came just two days after my own, it would be the first opportunity I would have to meet most of the family together in one place. As I was sitting with Patty, her mother pulled up a seat on the opposite side of me. Other than our introductory greetings earlier when I first arrived, her first words to me were “Are you the man who’s going to marry my daughter?” Stunned, Patty exclaimed; “Mom! You’ve just met him!” I was a bit nervous myself, but I told her with a broad smile, “Marry? Well, you never know what’s going to happen ahead.”

    It was a few months after our first date and we knew how strong our love was for each other. But did her mother just ask me about marriage? I just turned twenty that week and contemplated that there was much to look forward to in the future. Many couples don’t consider a wedding until at least their early to mid-twenties. Still, I was growing closer to Patty, and she was with me; I was thinking the future might have us paired together. But because of someone in her past, she was still learning to fully trust me in the first couple of months. Memories of a former boyfriend had made her leery of moving too quickly. I can still remember the first time that I told her that I loved her. She told me that night that she wasn’t ready to say the same just yet because of the way she was previously mistreated. I’ve always been a patient man. I knew she was a great girl, and with time, hopefully, she’d come around to sharing that same trusting love for me that I had for her. It didn’t take her long, but neither of us was ready to talk about marriage, at least not yet.

   Patty’s mom Dot was a wonderful lady and a strong one too. With all of her health problems earlier in life, she still did everything that she could as a widow to keep her children happy and together. She had two heart attacks and a stroke some years earlier but made sure she did whatever was in her power to keep everyone under one roof. It wasn’t easy. In addition to Patty, she had four other girls and four boys, a total of nine children total. She raised them mostly as a widow, with Patty’s father passing away when she was just nine years old. Some married couples today have difficulties raising just one or two kids, let alone nine. She did a magnificent job of bringing them up and there isn’t a person in this world that would’ve had the right to question her parenting skills. Like my mother, she was there for her kids. She did an outstanding job with far fewer resources.

    It was a great day meeting Patty’s family. I was made to feel right at home, which is how everyone feels when they meet her folks. They have gone out of their way to make guests feel like they belonged there, no matter which of her siblings I had visited with her or how many siblings brought friends when they came over.

    I didn’t own a car when we started dating. My father would often balk at letting me use his old Dodge Demon, so we took to public transportation: buses, the subway, and taxi cabs to get around, and did a lot of walking too. He would give in on some occasions, but they were scarce. I would walk home from her place sometime after midnight, a stroll of about two miles. Being that Patty was living with Mary Ann and her family at the time. I would get home close to 1:00 A.M., but that wasn’t an end to our night. I would call her to tell her I arrived safely, and then end up spending another hour talking with her before calling it a night. We didn’t go to mass in those days though we considered ourselves good Catholics. We went on the major church holidays and for weddings and funerals. So we would sleep late on Sunday mornings and again call each other later in the day. There were no cell phones at that time and only one line at home, so I would think I probably made everyone at home a bit angry being on the telephone as often as I tied up the line.

     I was starting to gain more respect at work at that time. The people who I had worked with knew that we got things done together, and those that I worked for saw I was doing my job with a good work ethic and attitude. It wasn’t long before I became acquainted with men from the other departments. It felt good knowing that people saw something in me as both a co-worker and employee and that it had become much easier to make friends than when I was younger. I was finally overcoming the shyness and quietness of my youth. The way that I saw it, you should always treat people like you wanted to be treated. If you want respect, you’d better show it to others. If you want others to care about you, let them know how much you care about them. I still feel that same way. We’d all live in a much better world if others did the same that they expected of others. We don’t need to be clones or robots, but we should be respectful. Real life shows that things didn’t always go that way. And I felt that just because some people weren’t team players, it didn’t mean that I had to be that way. My intention were to do my best at whatever I attempted.

    I started to see how important personal responsibility was: shown through action and example and not just by words. It was at that time that I understood that I was conservative in my social, political, and fiscal behavior. I was learning the difference between the two convictions, and that even though you didn’t always agree with someone; you could and should show them respect. Rude behavior by the opposition doesn’t help when trying to look at things objectively if not cautiously. Some say that you should never discuss religion or politics with those who don’t share your beliefs. Why not?  Reasonable discussion can help us to understand where someone’s coming from or teach us all a thing or two. Not to compromise our convictions, but to learn.

    Although I made some new friends, that still didn’t translate into a remarkable social life. For now, that was alright with me. Patty and I seeing each other more frequently and we continued were giving each other much of our time. I had a few close friends, and we had a somewhat-close family. That was was sufficient at this point in my life.

     My siblings and I always had a good relationship together. We were always together in our early years doing the things that brothers and sisters and many other kids in the city do that are often fun, but sometimes got us into trouble with the neighbors. There were times when that trouble was unearned. Not all times, but many. Being the boys on the block with a bit of free reign meant my brother Mark and I got the blame for things we didn’t do, with a few neighbors commenting “I’m surprised! You’re the quiet one, Brian.” Being blamed for what we didn’t do made us want to do more. Sure, we were typical –  and somewhat mischievous –  South Philly youngsters.

     In those days, we did things that kids wouldn’t even think of doing today. Not unique things, but those that have long disappeared. We could find interesting uses for a length of clothesline or fishing line or a bottle rocket, and it often earned us a verbal reprimand from a neighbor or them taking us home to our parents to face their wrath. Or a neighbor facing anger from my dad when we were accused of doing something while we were in his presence. Dad may have looked too light to fight compared to some men, but he wouldn’t allow us to be a scapegoat for anyone, and would often stand with his fists balled as if ready to have a go at it.

     As time went by, we made friends with different crowds but we were still always there for each other. Mark and I grew up sharing the same room, and being more outgoing, often included me in things like going to rock concerts with him and his friends before I started to show more interest in different bands and would goad my friends or Mark or my sister Lisa to go with me. Between going to shows with him and picking up on my cousin’s musical tastes and my father’s love of country music, we learned an appreciation for most musical genres. With my friends having tastes opposite to my own, I don’t think I’d ever seen an event in my early years if it wasn’t for Mark, or Lisa. She took me to my first-ever concert when we saw Queen at the Spectrum in 1977 and a few times afterward. We all did other things together too. When we were young, it was a mixture of fun and mischief that kept life interesting for us. Lisa had her room and her own circle of friends, but found time to join Mark and me when we got into something interesting, Aas young adults, we went in different ways with our interests. But we were always there for each other. I was just a bit more easygoing and they associated with friends who shared different interests.

     Growing older changed things. In time, Mark came to work with me at Recon, where we spent some years toiling together in the same departments, then departed to go on to different occupations. We worked together again later before finding more professional lines of work, so we have a lot of stories that we still share from past jobs.

     In the springtime of 1982, Patty and I had become practically inseparable, spending as much time together as we could. Enjoying time together was on constantly our minds. With the warmer weather upon us, we took the time to get out more and enjoy each other’s company. My parents was happy to see that I wasn’t spending much time at home anymore. They ofte urged me in my  earlier years to get out more often, so this was a fulfillment of their wishes.

    In May of that year, I took Patty to her first major concert at The Spectrum where we saw The Charlie Daniels Band perform. That was a memorable show, longer than many I’ve been to. The encore was a variety of gospel hymns, complete with a full backing choir. That was the first and only time I had seen a concert end like that, and although I had never been exposed to gospel music before, I found it to be a fantastic change from the rock & roll we grew up on, and she enjoyed it just as much. It was an wonderful night for both of us, ut that was just one evening, and there would be many more things ahead to look forward to.

     By the time late June came around, my heart was settled and I was excited about what lay ahead. At twenty years old, many of us would assume that we have a full life ahead of us and that there would be many years ahead to experience the highs and lows that come along with it. I surely did. I also knew that I was sharing life with the woman who was everything that I could ever hope for in a mate. She loved me for who I was, has a huge heart, and genuinely cared for people whether she had known them for some time or had just met them, and she wasn’t one to gossip about others or put others down.  Some may say that it was blind love. In truth, it was all laid out there in front of me and showed me that I had everything I could hope for in a woman. So I knew without a doubt who I wanted to be my wife.

    With that, I knew what I had to do. I proposed to Patty, asking for her hand in marriage on a Saturday night as June was coming to an end. I didn’t know what our entire future held and I didn’t care, but I was certain that I did want to share whatever was coming with her. I was ready to ask her early that evening, but my nerves had gotten the best of me. It could have been that I was afraid of her saying no, even with everything going in a positive direction. As the evening grew later, I knew in my heart that I could wait no longer. I wouldn’t know where we stood if I didn’t ask her, and with that, the most hopeful of questions left my mouth.

     I can’t say that it was the most romantic proposal. After a night out, we arrived back at her sister’s house, finding Mary Ann sound asleep on the sofa. On a normal night, she would have been sleeping in bed by now. So much for normal. After more conversation, I sputtered as I worked to get the question out, hesitating so much that Patty feared that I was about to tell her that it was over and I was breaking up with her. I didn’t even have a ring to put on her finger, but I didn’t want to wait until I could purchase one to start looking ahead to a better life. I was not a man who had planned to ask the most important question he’ll ever ask. Composing myself, I surprised her with that all-important question and released the tension that was building up. Proposing to Patty was an instant relief. She was thrilled that I wasn’t calling it quits and instead looking toward the future. With tears of joy, kisses, and embraces that seemed endless, she accepted my proposal and we were looking ahead to life together. I was relieved that she wasn’t upset with me for not having a ring to put on her finger that night. Looking back, I realize that not having a ring could have doomed my proposal and any future chances I had with her, but that wasn’t Patty’s way. We bought the ring together soon afterward and were elated beyond words as we looked ahead. I thought of myself as one of the happiest men on earth that night. I didn’t want to leave her after that, but I couldn’t stay forever, nor could I wait to go home to share the good news with my clan and allow Patty to tell her sister and later the rest of her family. I was told that Mary Ann was overjoyed to see her earlier prediction on my first visit realized. I wanted that night to last forever, but ride-sharing hadn’t been invented yet and I had a long walk ahead to share what should be surprising news.

     There was one big problem: The home was vacant I arrived. It was well after midnight and no one was in sight. It was the weekend, and normal for Lisa and Mark to be out with friends, but where were my parents? The phone rang after about a half-hour, it was Dad telling me that they were at the hospital. Our pet cat had clawed Mom badly that week, and they saw earlier in the evening that her wounds had become infected. The doctor had almost finished treating her, so the news would have to wait a bit longer. Of all places to be on a Saturday night. You know you’re in for a long wait. I was so ecstatic walking in the door that I failed to see the note they had left before heading to the ER.

    Tabby was one of the nastiest cats anyone could have as a pet. Most people would have gotten rid of him after his first attack, and ended it when he later showed himself to be even more aggressive. Friends must have thought we were bizarre for keeping him around for his twenty-year lifespan. He did mellow out as he aged but was as wild as they come at that time. Now I had something that I wanted to tell everyone, and he had delayed its delivery. The cat was laying there as I waited for my parents to return. It made me want to smack him in the head for causing Mom’s injury and also for temporarily ruining my night. It was long overdue, and he had an appointment with the vet and was declawed after that savage attack.

     More than an hour after our phone call, my parents arrived home. After making sure that Mom was okay, I told her and my dad that I had big news. “I’m a happy man. Patty and I were engaged tonight!” Instead of joy, a look of suspicion came upon both of them.  The expressions on their faces said, “Okay, what’s the joke?” The good news had fallen as flat as a pancake. Always learning, a new lesson was about to hit home. Joking around with people enough and they see you as always being the prankster, failing to take you seriously. This wasn’t the moment for that to happen. I had a strange sense of humor in the past, enough to cause them to question my intent. When they understood that I was being serious, their tone changed dramatically. Mom grabbed and hugged me, congratulating me, while Dad slapped my back and shook my hand. Everyone was smiling brightly now, and they had me call Patty and gave her their congratulations by phone. Soon there was talk about having her bring her family for dinner so that everyone could get to know each other.

     Making preparations, there was a lot of back-and-forth between families. The night of the dinner came and we had a full house, and that was just two of Patty’s sisters. Mary Ann and her family were there as well as Patty’s oldest sister Edna, her husband Tony, and their three daughters Lisa, Angel, and Toni. And of course, Patty’s mom was there. Everyone got to know one another quickly, but that night, my mom made a new friend in Edna, and they remained friends for life. Not that she found fault in anyone else; she enjoyed everyone’s company, but Mom and Edna both found something that clicked between them.

     So there it was: Patty and I were engaged, the families made a good impression on each other, and our wedding would be planned. Everyone was excited. I would be the first of the Bennett kids to be married. While most of Patty’s siblings had already tied the knot, she would be the first one of her sisters to walk down the aisle in a wedding dress. That was the moment my future mother-in-law, Dot had been waiting for since she had daughters. She repeatedly joked with my parents, telling them that she would be attending our reception wearing a mini dress. My mom was bewildered, asking repeatedly, “She is joking, isn’t she?” Yes, she was, but she said it so convincingly that Mom thought she was serious. My dad kept urging her to ease up and let it go. It was nice to see someone else humoring them for a change. I learned to reel it in after the engagement debacle, but stopping just wasn’t in me.

     At least I spared them from the cruder jokes. Those were reserved for friends and co-workers. A former co-worker named Leon realized that after I swiped his prosthetic leg that replaced the one that he lost to a train while hanging with friends around the railroad tracks. We were clowning around one day as he sat to rub the stump of the remaining portion of his leg below the knee. I reached for Leon’s replacement and hid it out of sight alongside a workbench. He became angry and then alarmed when he couldn’t find it, and I told him that it was needed in another department to prop up an engine block. Believing I was serious, Leon grew more upset. When I saw him panicking, I quickly returned it to him, easing the tension. We were all laughing, but a joke at the expense of his having an anxiety attack was going too far. Leon wasn’t pleased, and he was the only man in our department who wasn’t laughing. He made sure he kept that leg in plain sight whenever he took it off afterward. Those were the types of gags I found amusing back then. As I aged, that type of humor evaporated.

     We found out during the engagement that no matter how well we worked together planning that there was someone who would make the experience unpleasant. Patty and I vowed not to let them get under our skin. There was always something happening or someone wanting things to go their way; never mind that we were the ones to be married. I suppose that many an engaged couple has found this to be true, but it’s irritating when you and your fiancé are that pair.

     Our plan was to be married in May 1983 at St. Monica Church, but the calendar wasn’t working for us. The church schedule was booked solid for that entire month, which meant that we would have to wait until the summer was near an end. Sure we were disappointed, but it was out of our hands. Something came along that would kill my chances of making an appearance at the altar and we realized that another date would work much better for us.

     Early that May, I came down with what I thought was the flu. Calling out of work on that Monday morning, I thought it was over, and returned to work on Wednesday.  Come Thursday afternoon, I had no strength and could barely stand to where I was often leaning on the machinery. “What’s the matter? I thought you were doing better,” Joe, my foreman asked. Yeah, so did I; but I was drained of my all energy and felt like I couldn’t drag a feather. He told me to take the rest of the week off and consider seeing a doctor.

     So I did the next morning. Thankfully you didn’t need to wait for an appointment to see a physician back then. You simply walked into the doctor’s office and waited your turn. Now, you need to schedule a visit for the smallest of things. The doctor examined me and ordered lab work. “I believe you have either mononucleosis or hepatitis”, he told me. “I hope it's mono,” I said, thinking out loud. “Sure”, he replied. “But you don’t have a choice, and neither is a good thing.” With that, I headed to the lab, had my blood drawn, then went home to wait.

     The doctor called me later the next week with the news. “Mr. Bennett, your labs are back. The results show that you’re positive for mononucleosis. Get yourself some rest and drink a lot of liquids. Don’t go kissing anyone and no sharing glasses or eating utensils. See me in two weeks so I can see how you’re doing.”

     I had to give them the news at work that I would be out for some time. Even worse, I had to call Patty and tell her that I was sick and we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. I thought she would be disappointed. Patty had a good attitude about the situation and said, “Look at the bright side. If we were going to be married this month, we would have to cancel the church and caterer and do it all over again. Who knows how much we would have lost or when we could have rescheduled.” She was right, always with a positive outlook, but that didn’t make me feel any better. I had no idea where the mononucleosis came from. Although it was the so-called “kissing disease”, Patty didn’t have it, and neither of us had cheated on the other. We were together too often for that. Nor did we know anyone who had mono at that time who could have spread it. All that I can think of is that I used an unclean glass or utensil in a restaurant, but who knows? Thankfully, I was back to work in less than three weeks with directions not to drink alcohol for two months. That wasn’t an issue. Although I drank casually, I could leave it alone and not miss it at all.

     Summer came, and I was feeling fine and ready to return to normal living. I was back to work and free from days of my mom and sister watching their seemingly-endless soap operas where headphones helped me to avoid them with constant music. I should have waited, but I had alcohol as soon as the doctor-imposed deadline ended and promptly hurled. It didn’t cause ongoing problems, but it was a warning. A couple of weeks later, all was well. That July, the guys from work got together for a fishing trip to Ocean City, N.J. The boss showed up and paid for each of his workers who were on the party boat, which we all were grateful for. Two of our group were out all night drinking, showing up blasted. They slept on the boat for most of the outing, irritating the boss being he paid for them to sleep off their drunkenness. They were perfect examples of why you shouldn’t take up drinking as a hobby. It was my first time going deep-sea fishing. It wasn’t a great day out; the only fish I caught was something called a sunny and a flounder. Some guys weren’t doing that much better. The sunny was cut for bait and I gave the flounder to a friend who caught a few others.

     On the way home, Joe wanted to show Oonthan what a boardwalk looked like being it was his first visit to the seashore. There are no boardwalks in the jungles of Southeast Asia, and he was amused. We took a walk down the boards, drawing the attention of the police. An officer came over and asked: “Son, do you know where you are?” Not wanting to sound sarcastic, I knew better than to say “Yeah, the shore”. Instead, I carefully replied, “Sure officer, we’re in Ocean City.” He continued, saying; “Do you know what kind of town this is?” Before I could gather a wild guess, he said: “It’s a dry town”. The open can of beer in each of our hands was an unwelcome sight, and illegal. We were all respectful, answering his questions politely. “I’ll tell you what”, he said. “See that trash can? If you drop your beer in there and walk away, I’ll forget the whole thing.” How could we argue against that? We thanked him for not citing us and that was it. While we were on our way home, Joe fell asleep and Oohthan might as well have been driving blindfolded. Joe was supposed to be directing him but wasn’t moving, sound asleep for the entire ride home. Neither of us knew where we were. The Walt Whitman Bridge was a welcome sight for both of us.

     That was also the start of my vacation: a week away from work, with no loud noise, grease, or solvent mist hanging over the shop air. Getting a week away was always good to recharge for a bit. Most companies would give you more vacation time as you built up more seniority with them. Our company gave you a week with pay – at least during my time there –  that and three paid sick days. So when I had that bout of mono in May, the rest of the time off was unpaid. Thankfully, I had a great attendance record and didn’t miss much work. With our wedding coming, it wasn’t the best of times to be without a paycheck for a few weeks.

     Patty and I took our first vacation alone together, without any family or friends. Just some time to enjoy ourselves and grow a little closer with no one else around. We never saw our families as getting in our way. They gave us the space we needed. Still, it was great to have a few days alone. We did what most people would do when in Wildwood, N.J. For South Philly families, Wildwood was one of the more popular shore spots. Our days were spent on the beach, getting some exercise with a long hike down to the surf. Wildwood has notoriously wide beaches at some points. We strolled down the boardwalk during the nighttime hours; spending some fun time on the amusement piers and taking time to discuss our future. We had a great time together and would have loved to have made reservations for a whole week. It didn’t matter much. We were only a couple of months away from our wedding day and a week-long honeymoon.

     We spent those last few weeks talking about our plans. If your wedding was a decent-sized one, you’ll remember that there’s a lot to do as the final days close in. I said earlier that family members didn’t make things easy for us, and my mother was one of them. Because Patty was so close to her nieces and nephews, she wanted to include them with an invitation to the wedding reception. Mom thought otherwise. She was concerned that because they were kids, they would get in everyone’s way and cause a distraction. Always worrying about things, she was concerned with what everyone would think. Sure, I could see her point. Looking at it through most people’s eyes, weddings were adult affairs and noisy kids are seen as annoying and should be at home with a sitter. Those kids were special to Patty and we made the decision together that they would be there. It was a good call. They were well-behaved. and it gave them a night to remember – at least as much as possible at a young age. Trading memories later, they often said they were grateful that we included them.

     The men in the bridal party were no better with their arguing. Patty told me from the beginning that she had always wanted a rainbow wedding, with the ladies dressed in individually colored pastel gowns and the men in shirts that matched the bridesmaid gowns. Some of the guys whined through the entire tuxedo fitting: “Why do I have to wear pink?” “What’s with the pastel colors?” We’ll look like...” I could go on, but everyone had a complaint about the shirts. I should have stood my ground and stayed true to Patty’s wishes. Instead, I caved in and we all ended up wearing white shirts.

     It seemed as if my future sister-in-law Dottie was making it her mission to be difficult. An argument between her and Patty had my soon-to-be bride flustered. I called her to try reasoning with her and found her to be just as stubborn. She threatened to drop out of being a bridesmaid, which caused me to lose my patience. I blew my top at her, shouting, “Go right ahead, ruin your sister’s special day!” I told her that it would be sad not to have her with us and that we did want her there. After calming down and spending some time talking, she let go and things were resolved. I lost it at the wrong time! I should have blown up at the guys about the shirt colors, not at Dottie, but the pressure with the final prep finally caused me to slip. With our working things out, the drama was behind us and we were happy that she stayed in. It would have made us both unhappy to not have her with us on our happiest of days.

     I finally got to meet Patty’s brother Franny around that time. Recently discharged from the Army he arrived home shortly before our wedding. He was another reason I was glad that our plans for May fell through, as she had not told me about his service in the run-up to our nuptials. Patty told me that Franny is a great guy who has always been there for his family, and I’ve seen that many times. Time ran so close that I didn’t get to meet him until the bachelor party.

     As we closed in on the day that we both had long waited for, we each took part in the rituals that go along with that special event. The women got together for their bridal shower a few weeks beforehand. The week before the wedding, the guys got together for our bachelor party. We spent the entire Friday night at the tavern around the corner from seven o’clock onward until closing time. Not being a drinker, it didn’t take long before the buzz came, and then became as drunk as ever. It was nothing to be proud of, never being that far gone or ever getting there again. What I wasn’t doing was paying attention to how much I had been drinking. Between the beer and hard liquor, there wasn’t a time when we weren’t downing something, and I was at the center of it. I hadn’t noticed how things were changing, not in my balance or my mood. We were having a lot of laughs; our friend Greg’s face spontaneously grinned as someone mentioned partying prostitutes, then tight with anger when the same friend said he was joking. I would have backed off if he was serious, but as the night grew on, could I retain that control? It’s a question I didn’t have to answer. Then midnight came and my memory departed with it; the last thing I remembered was the clock on the way to the restroom. We had two hours before closing time, and the madness was just starting.

      My brother had come in a short time before, hanging out with his friends before joining the rest of us. As my cousin Dell later related, Mark decided to have a little fun at my expense. He said “Let’s go shot-for-shot”, and I foolishly agreed to it. When it came to drinking, I was as lightweight as you could get. I don’t remember him asking, nor do I recall giving my consent. I didn’t even remember my return from the restroom. Still, we did it, and to make matters worse, Mark was having the bartender pour me a double shot for every shot that the rest of them consumed. How I didn’t succumb to alcohol poisoning that night was a mystery.

     When the night was over and the guys went to settle the tab, the bartender asked them, “Do you know how much you all drank tonight?” He then rattled off a list of spirits and the number of bottles that were consumed and said that it didn’t include the untold number of pitchers of beer that kept flowing. Thankfully, the bar was around the corner from our house. Patty’s brothers drove home afterward and so did my friends. We were able to walk home from there. Alright, everyone else walked home. My cousin and brother guided my steps down the street and through the front door. Along the way, they dropped me on our neighbors’ sidewalks. Someone honked a car horn, causing me to mumble off a threat and them to laugh incessantly. My memory was still sitting back in the restroom from before midnight and I have to rely on theirs regarding our hours-later stroll.

     When we got in the door, I was dropped once more. My father had come home earlier. He was already sprawled across the sofa. Mom wasn’t pleased. Dad had her in a fiery rage, coming home more loaded than ever. When we came in, she yelled at the other two. “Look at him! What did you do to your brother?” she yelled at Mark. “I didn’t do anything, he was drinking” he chuckled. After a lot of shouting, they carried me up to my room. Thankfully, it was mostly a blank by the next day. Then the morning came, and with it, a mixture of regret and vomit. I woke up after ten to what seemed like a world without gravity. I remember guys talking about how they felt the bed was spinning when they woke up after a night of heavy drinking. I never imagined that I would be experiencing it. Yet here I was, and it felt like I was experiencing chaos. Having Mom yelling as I descended the steps didn’t help. I would have returned to the comfort of my bed if this were a normal day. But with the thought of more turbulence, I rejected any thought of it.

     I’m glad we had the bachelor party a week earlier. The nuptials were at two in the afternoon. Had we been married the day after the party, I would have been sick at the altar, and that’s not a memory that you want of your wedding day. I learned from it and never drank like that again; once was enough for me. I believe the smell of alcohol alone would have made me sick that night. When I sobered up and took Patty out for our final Saturday dinner as a single couple, I ordered a Coke, no alcohol. She saw her brother Jack when she was at her mom’s house earlier. He laughed and told her, “You wouldn’t believe how drunk your fiancée was last night.” She told me that he looked as if he wasn’t feeling any pain himself.