Well I started to write something for today titled “Valley of Tomorrow” but my sister dragged me to a bar tonight. She is working on an observation paper dealing with alcoholism/intervention. So here we sit as I write this.
My back is to the crowd, but I watch my sister as she looks on and fills the pages in her spiral bound notebook. Phrases such as “3” is having another drink, that is his 4th drink in 30 minutes; auto rescue guy watches Keno as he also bets on the video poker machines in the corner feeding fives into the machine; red bandana nursing his “tanker” of a beer he is alone.
The bar is one of those neighborhood bars, populated with regulars. Everyone seems to know everyone and I wonder if we seemed a bit out of place with our notebooks and diet pepsi. A Calvin College banner hangs above the bar and seems out of its element. The wood panel walls still hold the smoke that no longer lingers in the air. These same walls are plastered with beer paraphernalia promising light and cheap beer specials on their brand. The sounds of the basketball game compete with the heavy music wafting out of the speakers while the Keno machine flashes the numbers enticing new players. The bar stools are warn and wrinkly. They are ripped and rippled in places from years of use.
We are in their world. The world of last calls and pleasure before pain. I feel out of place and yet I know I have been down this road before. It’s sad. This is all some have to look forward to. Where everyone knows your name...
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