Friday Firesmith – The Edge of Sixty-Five (Ooo Baby, Ooo, Ooo)

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I was voted “Most Likely to Die Before 21,” when I was in high school. One of the teachers responsible for the yearbook caught the title on the final edit, and so it didn’t make it into the Senior Yearbook, but there were copies of it passed around.

The photo was of me sitting on the bleachers in my ancient army jacket, drinking out of a bottle, the label unseen.

It’s difficult to believe I got away with the things I did in high school, or for a long time after that.

It’s even harder to believe that I’ll be sixty-five on Sunday, November the 9th.

I started drinking at age thirteen. I started smoking pot when I was fourteen. Between the first Valium I stole from a friend’s mom’s stash, until I found decent connections for Quaaludes, I never met a drug I didn’t like. Some I loved.

A friend of mine found a bottle with five pills in it and he had long since forgotten what they were. I took all five of them and washed them down with Jack Daniels. Or so I’m told. I don’t remember most of that night.

We jumped off bridges and railroad trestles and into the dark waters of the Chattahoochee River. Mostly, we did this during daylight hours, but I once took off at midnight over the concrete rail of the bridge and into total darkness. A light at the Tenneco Oil Company dock, a quarter of a mile away was the beacon I used to find the shore, and it was a little freaky swimming at night like that. The alligators were not as common back in the late 70’s  as they are now or I would have been lizard food. My friend who dropped me off on the bridge and then picked me up told me he didn’t think I would do it.

I caught rattlesnakes barehanded. I dared a guy to shoot me while I was holding a rattlesnake. I disarmed a man by charging him with a rattlesnake longer than I was tall.

All of this before I was twenty-one.

I joined the Army at twenty-two, was kicked out of Alcoholics Anonymous for denying I had a problem, and my Commanding Officer and I had a discussion about this. But I had six months left and he decided to let me drift on, and get out. And I did.

In 1990 I met a woman who was not going to put up with the way I drank. She broke up with me about the time I got a job with the DOT, which I thought I would hang around with until I got my truck paid off.

In 1991 I bought a PC. I started writing.

Alcohol and I divorced as soon as I realized that no matter how many writers before me had been drunks, I couldn’t write as well when I was drinking.

I spent twenty-seven years with the DOT then retired. And I kept writing. Drinking? Not entirely dry, but close enough to it not to worry about what I did last night.

At sixty five years old, I can tell you creativity can save your life. It can change your life. It can take away habits you never wanted to lose. It can put life in a perspective that time spent wasted is wasted time.

Take Care,

Mike

21 thoughts on “Friday Firesmith – The Edge of Sixty-Five (Ooo Baby, Ooo, Ooo)”

  1. Glad I never took that road in life. Not saying I was better. I had it hard somewhat. Had a father who made me start working at 7 selling cucumbers door to door 8 hours a day and other crazy jobs all year long. Mother was a little hard to deal with, she kept all the money I made, said she would give it back when I got older, funny never seen it yet and I just turned 71.

    • Yeah, parents were allowed to work kids back in the day. Slave labor on call 24/7. I worked the watermelon fields for 70 bucks a week. 14 hours a day, five and a half days a week, with no breaks unless a truck was late or broke down. Less than a dollar an hour.

  2. Happy Birthday, Mike.
    You have reached the start of what I prefer to call middle age. You’ve had an eventful life, so now you can slow down and meander for another quarter century or so.

    • Thank you Rikko!
      Slow down I have and will continue to do so. The hard work I put into getting downed trees out of the yard is all I’m going to do, and I’ll do that at my pace.

      I plan to make it to at least 87. That’s how old Mom is.

  3. Happy Birthday, Mike.
    You’ve had an eventful life, now it’s time to slow down and cruise steadily for another quarter century – or more.

  5. Happy Birthday sir! Heading to 73 in a couple of months. 40 years with FDOT here. Those were the days. Enjoy but don’t stop moving. Haven’t quite stopped but there are days.

    • Brian, I have a Yoga class at 8:10 this morning. Later, I’m going to a rally uptown. I’ve got some writing to do and the remains of a stump to burn.

    • Ick, at this point there’s little to be sad about. I did the things I did, a product of my times and environment, and likely, I still do. But I have control over my environment now and the times, well, they are what they are, as per usual.

      I’m a fairly happy person.

  7. Happy birthday, Mike. Have been on this site for a very long time and Jonco and you and ‘the new kid that runs the show now :)’are reasons I still keep visiting.

  8. Mike, happy birthday! May your coffin be made of 100-year-old oak trees that are planted tomorrow.

    Everyone needs to find something that will drive them–whether it is some creative activity like you found, or another hobby that gets them out of bed in the morning. Same with work–find a job you like and enjoy.

    • Tim,
      I’m not sure how people live without something to keep their minds busy. The brain needs to be pushed hard, and demands made of it just as surely as working out pushes the body.

      Thanks for wishing me a happy birthday. They are not what they once were, but it’s better to have them than not.

      • My Mom and Dad both pretty much stopped doing anything when they retired.

        My Mom ended up in a nursing home after my step-Dad died and she kept digressing until she died.

        My Dad was taken care of by my step-Mom and a visiting nurse and I think ended up in a home when my step-Mom died. (I am not close to my Dad).

        This is also why I intend to not fully retire and stay busy.

  9. Congratulations from a 67 year old who survived years of drugs, alcohol and stupidity. I’ve been sober for close to a year, my only drug now is coffee. So Happy birthday, glad you made it.

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