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Journeyman · 10-23-2006, 03:11 PM

2. After hearing the stories about my family history, I've come to the conclusion that each generation has been dramatically better than the last. My paternal great-grandfather came out of Co. Kerry, Ireland, and was the nicest guy you ever met... unless he was drinking. Stereotypical drunk Irishman looking for a brawl where ever he could find it, and he occasionally got so lit that he'd bring out the shotgun and threaten to end the whole family, kids and all. He lived to his 70's, when he was walking home from a bar with his sons and accidentally stumbled into the street, getting hit by a trolley. He lived for a week, but still went out. Rumor has it one of his sons gave him a nudge in front of the trolley as payback for childhood. Even in his middle-later years, some old friends of the family would relate how they'd stop by to see my uncle Lloyd (when they were 10 or 12) and find this or that down in splinters and somebody would have a black eye or a fat lip.

My paternal grandfather never brought out guns, but he sure beat the fuck outta my dad once in a while. My dad actually thanks god that his only brother is some 10 or 12 years older than him, figuring that it toned down G-Pa some. He died of liver failure, also in his 70's.

My dad only ever hit me once, when I was buzzed and got in an argument with him. I took a shot at him and clipped his cheek, and he countered by fully breaking my nose. It's still crooked to this day. He never drank that I can remember, on account of his hitting bottom and my mom leaving him before I turned 4. So he quit, went into the program, got back together with my mom He had some 15 years of sobriety after that. Then a forklift ran over his leg at work and crushed it. A few surgeries, a lot of morphine in the hospital and an ongoing perscription for oxycotin, and he ended up addicted to oxy cotin. When he couldn't get that, he ended up turning back to booze. Mom left him again, but being 21, I just kinda jumped right in with him, and we had a blast for the past year and a half whenever I got to see him, but I some nights he was too lit up and would try to goad me into trading blows with him. Now he's got almost 3 months sober again.

I've decided on the firm commitment that, in the event that I get married in the future, I'll have a bachelors party where I'll have my last drink. Ever.

Each generation, dramatically better.

10-23-2006, 03:11 PM	#5 (permalink)
Journeyman Like John Goodman, but not. Location: SFBA, California	2. After hearing the stories about my family history, I've come to the conclusion that each generation has been dramatically better than the last. My paternal great-grandfather came out of Co. Kerry, Ireland, and was the nicest guy you ever met... unless he was drinking. Stereotypical drunk Irishman looking for a brawl where ever he could find it, and he occasionally got so lit that he'd bring out the shotgun and threaten to end the whole family, kids and all. He lived to his 70's, when he was walking home from a bar with his sons and accidentally stumbled into the street, getting hit by a trolley. He lived for a week, but still went out. Rumor has it one of his sons gave him a nudge in front of the trolley as payback for childhood. Even in his middle-later years, some old friends of the family would relate how they'd stop by to see my uncle Lloyd (when they were 10 or 12) and find this or that down in splinters and somebody would have a black eye or a fat lip. My paternal grandfather never brought out guns, but he sure beat the fuck outta my dad once in a while. My dad actually thanks god that his only brother is some 10 or 12 years older than him, figuring that it toned down G-Pa some. He died of liver failure, also in his 70's. My dad only ever hit me once, when I was buzzed and got in an argument with him. I took a shot at him and clipped his cheek, and he countered by fully breaking my nose. It's still crooked to this day. He never drank that I can remember, on account of his hitting bottom and my mom leaving him before I turned 4. So he quit, went into the program, got back together with my mom He had some 15 years of sobriety after that. Then a forklift ran over his leg at work and crushed it. A few surgeries, a lot of morphine in the hospital and an ongoing perscription for oxycotin, and he ended up addicted to oxy cotin. When he couldn't get that, he ended up turning back to booze. Mom left him again, but being 21, I just kinda jumped right in with him, and we had a blast for the past year and a half whenever I got to see him, but I some nights he was too lit up and would try to goad me into trading blows with him. Now he's got almost 3 months sober again. I've decided on the firm commitment that, in the event that I get married in the future, I'll have a bachelors party where I'll have my last drink. Ever. Each generation, dramatically better.