"No seas tonto (don't act foolishly)," my mother used to say.
​
      Due primarily to health reasons, I haven't had a drink of alcohol since July 20th of this year. My doctor advised me a while back that the sooner I got this monkey off my back, the better I could live my life. I owe it to my wife Chris and our family to stay healthy.
​
What Makes a Person Change?
    I always wondered what makes a person change their behavior?  In my case, fear played a large role. I was afraid that things could get worse. Cirrhosis of the liver on top of the stroke. Not a pretty picture.
     Can you imagine the pain and discomfort? The frustration alone would cause me to lose hope.  And on top of that, I couldn't have a beer, wine, or tequila to alleviate the stress and help me escape. "Don't wanna go down that road, again." But I think I caught myself just in time.

I Had an Alcohol Use Disorder
    Thing is, I just liked having a beer or wine in my hand and another one ready to go, in case I needed another.
    I had an alcohol drinking disorder.  Because I stopped, it's no longer a problem. Just the health residuals are my concern. Now, I'm just a stroke survivor, and that's a disorder unto itself.

A Premonition
    My brother had a premonition about three months ago where my deceased mother's spirit appeared and warned him: alcohol has been the downfall of our family and will continue to be so if we can't break the cycle.
    Two years before I was born, my maternal grandfather, a heavy drinker and smoker, died from a stroke caused by cerebral thrombosis.  He was 58. Also, two aunts and two uncles died in their late 40's, early 50's. All had issues with alcohol.  I attribute alcohol abuse, in part, for my stroke at 56.  
   Alcohol was, by and large, tacitly accepted by  my relatives, and its use was generally winked at. Near the international border between the U.S. and Mexico, my grandfather had owned a linen supply company in El Paso, a stone's throw from the Rio Grande. We would park behind his New Linen Supply Company before crossing the Stanton Street Bridge into Juárez for a night on the town.  

    In time, we graduated to the Kentucky Club, Cavern of Music, and Fred's New Derby Bar and other cantinas along Avenida Juárez. Fred offered cheap beer and their specialty - a ham, cheese, and tomato torta, with shredded lettuce, mustard or mayo.
    Ciro's was known for their legedary flautas, which came topped with  crema mejicana and salsa verde.                   Carvern of Music, better known as The Cave, had stalagtites coming out of the ceiling and sold fancy cocktails and pungent gardenias. A man would come around to everyone's table asking, "Flower for the Lady?" or "Gardenia para la novia?"
   For the long night ahead, we usually started at Fred's with a sandwich to settle our stomachs then usually ended up at Ciro's for flautas or menudo. ​"Menudo para el crudo."

    Back then my beverage of choice was Tecate, with a shot of tequila now and then. We were big on the salt and lime ritual,  and how can I forget, "Pa riba, pa bajo, pa centro . . . pa dentro."
​   The time I spent carousing with my friends in Juarez was priceless and memorable. We bonded around alcohol, not as wholesome as our parents would have liked. Thankfully, we had other lives.

But Vic, you don't drink that much . .  . Do you?
    I tried to limit my alcohol intake to 2 beers a night, but that ploy wasn't always successful. My doctor weighed in by telling me I needed to quit abusing my body. That was a first from a doctor.
    "Alcohol destroys your tissue in so many ways," she warned.  When she suggested abstinence, I chuckled to myself and thought this woman's crazy -- a miss goody two shoes. Chá​le!  That'll never happen! How could anyone survive without a beer now and then?             I disregarded her advice, but heeded the warning.
    My idea was to keep on as long as I could. At the first sign that my body was deteriorating or causing me pain, I would stop. 
​    The night of my last beer we were at an art event at the Canopy on Springdale Rd. I was sucking down a free Hi-Lo pale ale while my brother enjoyed a Waterloo blueberry sparkling water. Again, he brought up his premonition to remind me.
    As if the ghost of my mother wasn't good enough reason, I looked towards science to determine my fate. A simple blood test revealed that my Albumin level was high, as was my Hemoglobin A1c-- both have to do with liver and kidney function. Also, my Glucose was elevated.

End of a Career
    I rationalize the end of my drinking career this way: I've had more than my fair share of booze in all its forms. Why not quit while I'm ahead? I have enjoyed great laughs and insights, but also suffered great pena (embarrassment) at the hands of my demon.
    There you have it, wrestling fans, why I quit drinking after nearly 47 years of alcohol abuse. ​

Virgin Watermelon Margarita
​Ingredients:
1 medium seedless watermelon, cut into chunks
.5 cup fresh lime juice
4 tsp agave
5 tbsp sparking water
Instructions:
In a blender, puree enough watermelon chunks so that you have 4 cups of watermelon puree. Add lime juice and agave and mix again. Pour into 4 cups. Top with sparkling water.
​

Lavender Lemonade
Ingredients:
6 cups water
.5 cup light-colored honey
5 tbsp dried lavender
1 cup fresh lemon juice, strained

Instructions:
Bring water and honey to a boil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Gently crush the lavender in a mortar and pestle or in a bowl with a meat tenderizer. Add the crushed lavender to the pot then remove it from the heat. Cover, refrigerate, and steep for 2 hours. Strain the liquid through a fine mesh sieve. Stir in the lemon juice and serve over ice.

Dear Reader,
    It has been quite an emotional week, mostly from sadness. You probably know the feeling: your lips start to quiver, then you tighten your cheeks and fight back the urge to sob. It can hit at any time.
   Yesterday, while in the shower, I let loose with my second good cry for El Pasoans and Daytonians who are grieving the massacres.
 
No Longer a Resident, But Still Connected 
    At the age of eighteen, I moved away from El Paso to attend UT. I stayed and started to call Austin, home, while keeping in touch with EP as much as I could. (In their heart nobody ever leaves for good.) And when we moved to Taos, NM, El Paso always figured in our travel plans.                         
    Chris and I would stop to visit my mom, dad, sister and other relatives. I had lost touch with many of my Austin High buddies, except those still living in my Grandview neighborhood.
   Now, after more than 40 years in Central Texas, I'm trying to figure out how I was able to keep my El Paso soul and find solace for my grief.
   At the school I last taught, our motto was "Loyal Forever!" I guess that's the way I feel about El Paso. The same way other expatriates likely feel at times like these for their Dayton, Parkland, Pittsburgh, Boston, New York, Houston, Thousand Oaks, Sebring, Chicago, Las Vegas or Santa Fe, Texas, and everywhere else massacres have happened.
 
El Paso - Austin Connection  
    Friday night, I was at an art opening on Cesar Chavez Street in East Austin, and at the house next door was a gathering in support of a woman from El Paso. I wasn't surprised.
   There is such a strong Austin / El Paso connection. Many of my EP friends who attended UT stayed in the region to raise families, as have most of my blog readers. At one time or another all my siblings have lived here, except one. Four of us remain.
    I have  nephews and neices living in Austin who have had a good taste of the El Paso experience: the unique style of Mexican food; the Spanish language spoken everywhere; kind, unassuming people, and other qualities too numerous to mention.
    There's also the ever present Mexican influence, which is why we were targeted.  I am sure everybody is still reeling from last weekend's tragic events.

Birds of a Feather
   My long time friend remarked, "I couldn't understand what Boston Strong was all about. I thought, they should get over it and move on  .  .  . But now I get it."
    My friend Sylvia, who lost friends in the Twin Towers on 9/11, explained to me what “Any City” Strong means. It means residents genuinely looking out for each other, showing that you care for your community.
    Before 9/11, New Yorkers always had a reputation of being aloof,  in a hurry to get somewhere, with no time for anybody or anything else. That's not the case anymore, Sylvia claims. Now, they go out of their way to help each other, to see if they're good and, most of all, safe.

   I guess when you consider the law of averages, especially in the political climate we now live, disaster was bound to strike. Eventually, that law caught up to the sleepy city of El Paso, my hometown, and thrust us into the  spotlight once again.
   As if the ongoing immigration crisis weren't enough, now we are linked to the latest wave  of senseless massacres that haunts our nation.  Add El Paso and Dayton to the list.

 August 3rd 2019.
 
    When will it all end? There has got to be an ending, right? Either through some kind of legislation or an all abiding collective consciousness. These killers are no different from Islamic jihadists who make martyrs of innocent people in the name of God. Our society is better than that . . . isn't it?
 
     It all comes down to leadership: individual, local, State, and Federal.
    People must come together and find a path out of this death by massacre cycle.

    I respect the fact that everybody has their own opinion and interests, but even so, can anybody be so selfish as to not bend in the direction of preserving the promise of America?  Let's put away our petty differences to solve this.
   Or maybe, that's the prefered way of life: one of fear, anger, hatred, prejudice, subjugation, and violence. Where people's Constitutional rights are abdicated on the grounds of personal safety.
   If it didn't have its roots in current day reality,  it would  sound like history repeating itself.
   Now is not the time for hemming and hawing. No second measures! We should have learned from Columbine! Let us find a way to stop this illness before it strikes another Dayton or El Paso.