Wednesday, January 8, 2014
FREEHOLD TOWNSHIP, N.J. — An old drug with a new name is presenting new dangers to today's teenagers, New Jersey officials say.
Molly, slang for "molecular," was once was known as Ecstasy, the popular club drug of the late '90s and early 2000s that elevated users to sustained euphoria and hallucination. Miley Cyrus sings about "dancing with Molly" in We Can't Stop. Other artists such as Nicki Minaj, Rick Moss, Rihanna, Snoop Dogg and Kanye West also have made references to Molly in their music.
STORY: Overdoses attributed to Molly increase
STORY: Miley's a fan of Molly, weed
The big problem: Molly has morphed from being a pure form of MDMA — Ecstasy's vital ingredient — to a catch-all name for a methamphetamines mixed with any of roughly 300 other synthetic chemicals, including paint thinner and gasoline, said Dr. M. Michael Jones, chairman of the department of emergency medicine at CentraState Medical Center here.
Unlike heroin, Molly has not claimed many lives in New Jersey. But emergency room visits across the country have surged in recent years.
Molly is perceived as a threat for its severe effects on the body and an apparent popularity with teenagers.
"This is going to change everybody," Douglas S. Collier, drug-initiative coordinator for the state Attorney General's office, told two groups of teenagers at a summit at CentraState. "You're going to be challenged, not only now, but when you go to college, when you go to school, when you go to parties."
Molly's resurgence drew widespread attention over the summer, when two people attending an electronic music festival in New York reportedly died of MDMA overdoses. MDMA's euphoric effects, which last three to six hours, include enhanced sensation, empathy and increased energy, according to the National Institute on Drug Abuse.
But coming down from such a great high can result in dehydration, nausea, chills and sweating.
The institute notes that MDMA can interfere with the body's ability to regulate its temperature and that on "rare but unpredictable occasions" can lead to hypothermia, which can lead to failure of the liver, kidneys and cardiovascular system.
Molly capsules can have way more than MDMA mixed inside, officials say.(Photo: iStock)
But Molly often in more than MDMA. Just about any amphetamine can be combined with another synthetic chemical — caffeine, ephedrine or cocaine, for example — and packaged in a capsule referred to as Molly, Jones said.
"They might think they're ingesting MDMA, but they are not," he said.
That has led to overdose victims suffering body temperatures of more than 100 degrees, brain death and coma, Jones said.
In 2012 one man died related to Molly in New Jersey, according to the New Jersey Poison Information & Education System. The center's director, Steven Marcus, told USA Today that the victim entered the hospital with a temperature of 109 degrees.
Across the United States, Molly-related emergency room visits for people younger than 21 increased 128% between 2005 and 2011, according to Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. Among those, 33% of the admissions involved alcohol.
"When combined with alcohol, it's danger, danger, danger," Collier said. "It's horrible what you'll go through."
Jones cautioned that hospital admission data does not directly translate to the drug's adverse affects. One of the reasons Ecstasy morphed into Molly, he said, was to evade detection in common drug tests.
"Are we up 5, 10%? Maybe," Jones said of the emergency department. "But we are only the bad outcomes."
Law enforcement has seen some activity along the Jersey Shore, but not enough to raise to the alarming levels of opiates, said Charles Webster, spokesman for the Monmouth County Prosecutor's Office. He referred to a drug bust in August in which the authorities came away with 4.7 kilograms of Molly but nothing major since.
"We do see it. We do make arrests," Webster said.
Jones said Molly should be regarded with just as much alarm, because in terms of danger, it's "right up there with the rest."
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
January 7 v24 v 25 TWELVE STEPPING WITH POWER IN THE PROVERB
So listen to me, my sons,
and pay attention to my words.
Don’t let your hearts stray away toward her.
Don’t wander down her wayward path.
STEP 3 : Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as revealed in the Bible.
This morning after reading the Proverb it left me with a tough choice. The Proverb was all about Promiscuity geared towards the woman but in this day and age it should be geared for both men and women. It brings to light a good point and stirs up thoughts of all the toxic relationships I got involved in. Because of fear I was codependent and on top of that I was a rescuer. The problem with that was even though my life was a mess in my twisted thinking I spent ninety percent of my time trying to fix others instead of myself and the last thing they wanted was to be fixed or saved. Instead of fixing them I helped them and myself remain in addiction. It was a vicious cycle that went round and round! Many years in this state left me empty, depressed, desperate, and hopeless. Only by Gods grace was I able to escape the clutches of my last destructive relationship and truly for once in my life I became alone with myself. Discovering and working the steps with no outside interference gave me the opportunity to develop a relationship with God and myself. I discovered me, and after a tough couple years I can honestly say I love me and I am grateful for the hell I put myself thru. It made me the man I am today! When you get to step three it has to be for you and no one else, you cannot truly love others until you first love yourself.
The value of "Affluenza," Addiction and Parental Neglect As Get Out of Jail Defenses
The drunk-driving teen who killed 4 walked, blaming it on "affluenza," a so-called "disease" that makes the rich unable to understand the consequences of their actions. Where does that leave addicts and the rest of us?
moneyed blood
Shutterstock
After stealing beer, getting drunk enough to reach three times the legal limit, injuring nine people—and killing four in a gruesome crash—16-year-old Ethan Couch was sentenced to just 10 years of probation and treatment. No prison time. He will spend just a year at a California program for troubled teens (which charges $450,000 annually). Not surprisingly, the sentence has provoked widespread outrage.
But it wasn’t a “my disease of alcoholism/addiction made me do it” defense that got the Texas teen off so lightly. Instead, his attorney argued that the boy had “affluenza,” which the defense psychologist described as a disease of the rich that makes them unable to understand the consequences of their behavior. Unlike substance use disorders, however, affluenza is nowhere to be found in the DSM.
In court, the psychologist testified that Couch, “never learned that sometimes you don’t get your way. He had the cars and he had the money. He had freedoms that no young man would be able to handle.” He gave the example of how the boy had been allowed to drive at 13—and had received no punishment at 15 when police caught him in a car with an unconscious and undressed 14-year-old girl.
In other words, because Couch never learned that there are consequences to his actions, he should learn again that there are none—and that money can always buy an easier, softer way. In case it wasn’t already obvious that Couch received special treatment because of his privilege, reporters soon uncovered a case of a poor black teen who committed a much less severe crime and was given 10 years in juvenile prison by the same judge.
Unequal treatment in the justice system is an old story, of course. The difference here is the blatant use of privilege itself to justify more privilege and the idea that wealth itself can produce antisocial behavior. But by unpacking what would lead to a more just outcome in such cases, we can help clarify better ways of understanding the effects of early childhood experience and addiction on criminal responsibility.
While “affluenza” is obviously not a real disease, emotional neglect of children can occur in any class and can absolutely have lifelong effects on behavior. Failing to discipline a child is one form of emotional neglect. This may be more common for both the poor and the rich because in both cases, circumstances often mean that (for very different reasons) parents and children spend little time together.
In Born for Love: Why Empathy Is Essential—and Endangered, which I co-wrote with child psychiatrist Bruce Perry, we described the case of another rich Texas teen who committed a horrifying crime and wanted an expert witness to use mental illness to help justify his antisocial behavior.
“Ryan” (a pseudonym) raped and publicly sexually humiliated a developmentally disabled girl at a party to celebrate his admission to an Ivy League college. Like Couch, he’d previously avoided discipline for numerous antisocial acts. His parents contacted Dr. Perry in hopes of enlisting him as a defense expert.
Perry did find that the boy had a history of serious neglect. It turned out that his parents only spent an hour a day with him and that he’d had 18 nannies before finishing preschool, each one fired when his mother discovered that the baby preferred the nanny to herself. Such disrupted attachment has been associated clinically with antisocial behavior and seemed to be appropriate here, given that, from the child’s perspective, he’d basically lost every “mother” he had as soon as he connected with her.
Nonetheless, Perry did not agree to testify or to call the related bad behavior a disease. Instead, citing the majority of cases where children - rich or poor - who suffered similar neglect have managed to avoid committing heinous crimes, he found that Ryan was responsible for his own choices. Still, my co-author had little doubt that the emotional neglect he suffered, and the cultural context in which it happened, significantly skewed his moral compass, which is why we included the case in our book.
THE BACKGROUND FACTORS: WHICH ONES SHOULD BE MITIGATING?
Like other types of childhood trauma, neglect increases risk for alcoholism and other addictions, which can even further impair decision making. It’s unlikely that either of these two crimes would have occurred absent the disinhibiting effects of alcohol. Even so, alcohol misuse was also clearly not the only source of the problem in either case. Poor parenting is also implicated, as is social status.
Elevated social status—in both human and nonhuman primates—is linked with both reduced punishment for aggression and, according to a spate of recent research into the behavior and attitudes of those with wealth and power, to increased propensity towards cheating and reduced empathy.
While it is easy to argue that wealth and privileged attitudes should not be a sentence-mitigating factor in these kinds of cases—and possibly could be seen as aggravating—it’s far more difficult to dismiss emotional neglect and addictions as relevant factors.
That doesn’t mean literally letting people get away with murder. Mitigation should determine the level of intent and not preclude punishment. The problem here is that debates over whether addicts should receive “treatment not punishment” often elide both victimless crimes such as drug possession and those like Couch’s in which intoxication results in harm to uninvolved bystanders.
(Is intent important here? Couch presumably had no desire to hurt his victims, while "Ryan" wanted to use his as a way to demonstrate his social power. However, Couch wasn’t simply reckless while intoxicated and lacking agency: he chose to steal the beer that got him drunk, and unlike a poor teen with an alcohol problem, presumably had numerous other ways of obtaining the substance.)
Most of us accept that crimes such as Couch’s and Ryan’s require justice for the victims, in a way that crimes that only harm oneself do not. Society, we believe, should punish those who, even unintentionally, harm others while under the influence of alcohol or other drugs or while in the state of being addicted, in part because these alterations of consciousness only impair, not eliminate, the ability to make decisions.
Addicts do not shoot up in front of the police; drunk drivers try to evade detection. These facts show that moral agency is present, if not functioning well.
My own view is that addiction should be treated in order to reduce the odds of recidivism – and that treatment isn’t a substitute for paying one’s debt to society and to those who are harmed by criminal behavior.
Most addicts actually do not commit violent crimes, and some even commit no crimes other than those related to the legal status of their substance of choice. It’s clear, therefore, that addiction itself doesn’t necessarily cause antisocial behavior. Unfortunately, since many of the same factors that lead to addiction— child abuse, neglect, family violence, other trauma—can also create antisocial behavior, those actions are often conveniently blamed on the drugs.
Disentangling the various aggravating and mitigating factors is hard—and humans clearly have both an evolutionary and a cultural bias towards excusing the rich, even as the data suggests that the early childhood experiences of the poor, and the lack of alternatives available to them, are far more likely to be harmful and to constrain true free choice.
Like it or not, disentangling these realities is the job of the criminal justice system. That system would work a lot better if we carefully considered three factors: our bias towards punishing the poor more harshly; the question of how drugs, addiction and childhood experience alter decision-making capacity; and what mix of legal consequences produces the best outcomes.
The “affluenza” case may be a clear travesty of justice, and yet one can easily imagine an overly harsh sentence that would be just as absurd. If we want to prevent similar crimes —or deal with them appropriately if they do occur—disentangling intoxication, addiction, early childhood influences, intent and developmental capacity is critical.
We won’t succeed with made up disorders like “affluenza”—or by making addiction an all-purpose excuse.
Maia Szalavitz is a columnist at The Fix. She is also a health reporter at Time magazine online, and co-author, with Bruce Perry, of Born for Love: Why Empathy Is Essential—and Endangered (Morrow, 2010), and author of Help at Any Cost: How the Troubled-Teen Industry Cons Parents and Hurts Kids (Riverhead, 2006).
Good Afternoon and Happy New Year!!
Please help to spread the word about 2 upcoming showings of the “Anonymous People” movie in Bucks County. Fliers attached are for showings at:
1. Tuesday, Jan. 28th at Pennridge HS in Perkasie
2. Wednesday, Feb. 19th at BCCC in Newtown
Forward these fliers to your contacts in the recovery community. They should hit the link in the flier to view the movie trailer.
Thanks for your help! This film is a powerful and important documentary. Many still have not seen it, so let’s change that.
LIKE US ON FACEBOOK! and Twitter https://twitter.com/TheCouncilSEPA
Jessica Schwartz
Volunteer Coordinator & Prevention Specialist
The Council of Southeast Pennsylvania, Inc.
252 West Swamp Road, Unit 33
Doylestown, Pennsylvania 18901
Phone: (215) 230-8218 ext. 3158
Fax: (215) 230-8205
(800) 221-6333 - 24 Hour Information Line
jschwartz@councilsepa.org
Monday, January 6, 2014
January 6 v 32 TWELVE STEPPING WITH POWER IN THE PROVERB
He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.
STEP 5 : Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being
the exact nature of our wrongs.
Anger causes blindness which leads to foolishness .Unresolved anger produces blindness and bitterness which becomes
resentment and hate these four will keep you trapped in addiction . I spent my entire life as a young man blinded by anger and rage.Addiction was my excuse ! Failure after failure only made me more mad and I was unable to get anything right.People in my life who truly loved me and wanted to help me wound up being my target. At some point we must realize the mess of our lives is no one else s fault but our own.The Proverb is telling us that when situations arise in our lives we cannot continue to react as we once did . We must take a time out before going on the attack !We can overcome our addictions if we can control and deal with our anger in a sensible way. Anger thankfully is no longer ruling my life , I am not saying I don't occasionally fly off the handle but when I do step five is put into play and the anger subsides and the blindness goes away.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Free Community Seminars
Presented by
Livengrin's Family Services Department
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Continue learning and being part of recovery by attending free monthly seminars held at:
Livengrin Counseling Center -- Oxford Valley
195 Bristol-Oxford Valley Road
Langhorne, PA 19047 ~ 215-638-5266
*Each Seminar is 6-8 pm*
Monday, January 13, 2014: Importance of Self-Care,
by Dana Cohen, MA, M.Ed
Monday, February 10, 2014: Stages of Chemical Dependency,
by Susan O'Donnell, LPN, MHS
Monday, March 10, 2014: Dealing with Grief & Loss,
by Yvonne Kaye, PhD, MSC
Seating is limited -- these sessions often fill up so please register as soon as possible.
To register for the sessions or for more information,
call Dana Cohen, Family Therapist -- 215.638.5200 x162
Ample free parking is available!
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STAY CONNECTED:
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Friday, January 3, 2014
January 3 v21v22v23v24v25v26 TWELVE STEPPING WITH POWER IN THE PROVERB
My child, don’t lose sight of common sense and discernment.
Hang on to them, for they will refresh your soul.
They are like jewels on a necklace. They keep you safe on your way,
and your feet will not stumble. You can go to bed without fear;
you will lie down and sleep soundly.You need not be afraid of sudden disaster
or the destruction that comes upon the wicked, for the Lord is your security.
He will keep your foot from being caught in a trap.
Hang on to them, for they will refresh your soul.
They are like jewels on a necklace. They keep you safe on your way,
and your feet will not stumble. You can go to bed without fear;
you will lie down and sleep soundly.You need not be afraid of sudden disaster
or the destruction that comes upon the wicked, for the Lord is your security.
He will keep your foot from being caught in a trap.
STEP 3 : Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to
the care of God as revealed in the
Bible.
Man that is one heck of a guarantee. A sincere step three to God will refresh your soul bring you protection and permanent security . What are you waiting for are you not tired of being sick and tired .I know I was , the fear was crippling ! We are not guaranteed tomorrow so please get over yourself have faith believe the promise in the Proverb and make that step and don't look back.
Don't panic. You can do this.
If you suspect or know your child is using drugs or alcohol, it is important to take action right away. You have already taken an important step by visiting this website to learn more. So don't give up. We're here to help. Let's get started.
Through the use of video, interactive segments, scenario-based
role-playing experiences, and practical advice from drug intervention
experts, Time To Act offers help with identifying the signs of substance
abuse, taking action to help your teen live a drug-free lifestyle, and
in preparing a teen drug intervention.
Whether you suspect your child is using drugs or alcohol – or if you know for certain – our site provides tools and tips designed to help you recognize the signs of teen drug use, open lines of communication with your teen, and arrange a teen drug intervention. The goal of Time to Act is to help parents gain insights into why teens begin to use drugs or alcohol, as well as to debunk the common myths and misperceptions that parents and teens may have about the use of drugs and alcohol.
Whether you suspect your child is using drugs or alcohol – or if you know for certain – our site provides tools and tips designed to help you recognize the signs of teen drug use, open lines of communication with your teen, and arrange a teen drug intervention. The goal of Time to Act is to help parents gain insights into why teens begin to use drugs or alcohol, as well as to debunk the common myths and misperceptions that parents and teens may have about the use of drugs and alcohol.
“Expanding Your Recovery Toolkit” Workshop Jan. 21 in
CONTACT:
Jessica Schwartz, volunteer coordinator & prevention specialist Cathie Cush
The Council of Southeast Pennsylvania, Inc. C2 Communications
215-230-8218 x3158 215-579-2076
jmcdermott@councilsepa.org CathieCush@comcast.net
Beverly J. Haberle, executive director
The Council of Southeast Pennsylvania, Inc.
215-345-6644
bhaberle@ councilsepa.org
CALENDAR LISTING:
“Expanding Your Recovery Toolkit” Workshop Jan. 21 in Doylestown
Free monthly workshop series for individuals and families with a current or pastdrug/alcohol addiction issue. Next session meets Tuesday, Jan. 21, 7 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. at The Council of Southeast Pennsylvania, Inc., 252 W. Swamp Rd., Unit 12, Doylestown, Pa. Featuring presentations by speakers in recovery, plus a group discussion period. Refreshments. To register, call 215-230-8218, ext. 3158 or email JSchwartz@councilsepa.org.
The Council wishes to thank Magellan Health Services, volunteers and program participants for their generous monetary and in-kind donations.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
January 2 v 9 v 10 TWELVE STEPPING WITH POWER IN THE PROVERB
Then you will understand what is right and just
and fair—every good path.
For wisdom will enter your heart,
and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.
and fair—every good path.
For wisdom will enter your heart,
and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.
STEP 3 : Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to
the care of God as revealed in the Bible.
Its one thing to know of God but it is a whole different ball of wax to know God on a personal level .We do that by committing step 3 and reading His book and involving Him in every aspect of our lives.The time is gonna come when it will be just you and Him,so don't wait til your dead.the Proverb is a promise from Him to get your life back on track and the step three is the key.My life was just that my life! I lived apart from Him deciding what I thought was best for me and what a mess I made.The addictive part of my life was spent painfully lost in loneliness always crippled with fear and rejection unable to do anything right.Why go it alone when you got the Creator of you and the world seeking a relationship with you. He gave us a book to follow and in that book is a plan for your life. A plan to prosper you to bless you with peace , joy ,love ,comfort , guidance and the very best He can give you.Step three for me was a no brain er !
Addiction News | Drug Abuse & Alcohol – The Fix
Addiction News | Drug Abuse & Alcohol – The Fix
Zac Efron Celebrates Six Months Sober
The High School Musical star appears to be taking his new sobriety seriously.
Addiction News | Drug Abuse & Alcohol – The Fix
Addiction News | Drug Abuse & Alcohol – The Fix
Minnesota to Test Welfare Recipients for Drugs
The Land of 10,000 Lakes becomes the latest state to throw its poorest citizens into the icy waters of uncertainty.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
December 31 v 8 v 9 TWELVE STEPPING WITH POWER IN THE PROVERB
Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves ,
for the rights of all who are destitute.
Speak up and judge fairly;
defend the rights of the poor and needy.
STEP 12 :Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
Does anymore need to be said ! Myself personally it is our duty not only as Americans to defend the weak ,it is our duty to help others receive the gift that God has given us.I am talking about our sanity and sobriety.There is not a drug or drink in the world that can match the joy of freedom from addiction. The Proverb clearly describes a lot of our brothers and sisters who are still out there. Under the guidance of Gods divine nature I cruise the social media highway in search of those who cannot speak for themselves ,those who are destitute and spiritually bankrupt. For those of you who are reading this and are still trying to find your way take heed to my words.Surrender ,cry out to God He hears you never quit trying to quit , it took my mom and many sixteen years of prayer to get me free from the chains. know you are not alone and there is hope.
December 30, 2013
THE RIPPLE EFFECT
As I write this letter and look back on this amazing year, it becomes clear that, with your help, Lighthouse Network is playing a significant role in one of the most important battles of our time: helping the hurting all over the country, who are suffering from addiction, to overcome the pain, grief and despair they live with-every single day.
As we come to the end of 2013, I am pleased to report that our Care Guides have received over 5,400 calls this year from young men and women, fathers and mothers, and even grandparents, who have come to the end of their ability to deal with addiction themselves. At Lighthouse Network, we guide people through life's storms, but we know that every action in life is similar to a raindrop in the ocean that creates ripples ... one action causes a reaction and the circle grows. These ripples go as far and wide as the ocean will allow, and the ripple effect has begun. We want to share some "ripple effect" stories with you, and illustrate how you are already part of this story...
Click here to read the rest of the December
2013 Lighthouse Network Newsletter
2013 Lighthouse Network Newsletter
If you have a heart for hurting people and you would like to help those struggling with addiction and mental health challenges to get the Christian treatment they so desperately need, please click on the donate button below. This will take you to the donation page of the LN website. Your gift will change lives and impact families and help people find freedom from addiction through Christ.
Lighthouse Network
800 W. State Street, Suite 302
Doylestown, PA 18901 www.LighthouseNetwork.org | Email | 1.877.562.2565
800 W. State Street, Suite 302
Doylestown, PA 18901 www.LighthouseNetwork.org | Email | 1.877.562.2565
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Forward this eNews to others so they can sign up and receive
e-alerts, news, upcoming event info, and more.
e-alerts, news, upcoming event info, and more.
About Lighthouse Network:
Lighthouse Network is a Christian-based non-profit organization that offers a mental health and addiction referral program and Helpline that strives to equip people and organizations with the skills necessary to shine God's glory to the world, stand strong on a solid foundation in the storms of their own lives, and provide guidance and safety to others experiencing stormy times, thus impacting their lives, their families and the world.
Lighthouse Network offers help through two main service choices:
Lighthouse Network is a Christian-based non-profit organization that offers a mental health and addiction referral program and Helpline that strives to equip people and organizations with the skills necessary to shine God's glory to the world, stand strong on a solid foundation in the storms of their own lives, and provide guidance and safety to others experiencing stormy times, thus impacting their lives, their families and the world.
Lighthouse Network offers help through two main service choices:
- Lighthouse Addiction Helpline, a 24-hour free, national crisis call center, where specialists (Care Guides) help callers understand and access customized treatment options.
- Life Growth and self-help training resources for daily life, including online and DVD series and training events to help individuals achieve their potential.
Monday, December 30, 2013
December 30 v 5 TWELVE STEPPING WITH POWER IN THE PROVERB
Every word of God is pure;
He is a shield to those who put their trust in Him
STEP 2 :Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
So what are you waiting for ! I knew my life was a train wreck but I was also very skeptical about God . Like many I believed if God was there why would he let me suffer so much . It was simple i chose to live the life I wanted to live , far away from God . God is patiently waiting for you to come to Him admit your life is a mess and ask Him for help , like I said I was skeptical but also very desperate .In my life stuff was so bad , I had nothing too lose and everything to gain . I tried everything else might as well give God and the steps a try. Wow ,God is real the steps helped me find him ,He loves me and He missed me. No I can't explain it but thirteen years clean was something I dreamed of but under my own strength could not pull it off. He will do the same for you ,I double dog dare you to believe and ask Him for help.
Exposure to Alcohol Before Birth Linked to Social Skills Problems in Childhood
By Join Together Staff | December 12, 2013 | Leave a comment | Filed inAlcohol, Mental Health, Parenting, Research & Youth
Children whose mothers drank during pregnancy are more likely to have problems with social skills, compared with their peers whose mothers did not drink while pregnant, according to a new study.
A mother’s drinking during pregnancy was also found to be associated with significant emotional and behavioral issues in their children, according to HealthDay.
The study, published in Child Neuropsychology, included 153 children ages 6 to 12. Of these children, 97 had a fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. The researchers evaluated the children’s thinking, as well as their emotional, social and behavioral development. They found children whose mothers drank alcohol during pregnancy had more social problems, even after their IQ was taken into account. They were less able to connect past experience with present actions, or understand why people do what they do. They received lower scores on tests of planning and organizational skills, attention and working memory.
Parents of children with prenatal alcohol exposure said the children showed more inattentiveness, hyperactivity and impulsive behavior. These children were more likely to have symptoms of depression.
The researchers from the University of California, Los Angeles, said their findings indicate a great need for early detection and treatment of social problems in children that result from prenatal alcohol exposure. Intervening early is important, they said, because children’s developing brains have an ability to change and adapt as they learn.
Children whose mothers drank during pregnancy are more likely to have problems with social skills, compared with their peers whose mothers did not drink while pregnant, according to a new study.
A mother’s drinking during pregnancy was also found to be associated with significant emotional and behavioral issues in their children, according to HealthDay.
The study, published in Child Neuropsychology, included 153 children ages 6 to 12. Of these children, 97 had a fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. The researchers evaluated the children’s thinking, as well as their emotional, social and behavioral development. They found children whose mothers drank alcohol during pregnancy had more social problems, even after their IQ was taken into account. They were less able to connect past experience with present actions, or understand why people do what they do. They received lower scores on tests of planning and organizational skills, attention and working memory.
Parents of children with prenatal alcohol exposure said the children showed more inattentiveness, hyperactivity and impulsive behavior. These children were more likely to have symptoms of depression.
The researchers from the University of California, Los Angeles, said their findings indicate a great need for early detection and treatment of social problems in children that result from prenatal alcohol exposure. Intervening early is important, they said, because children’s developing brains have an ability to change and adapt as they learn.
Ohio Legislator Proposes Requiring Hospitals to Report Opioid-Dependent Newborns
By Join Together Staff | December 19, 2013 | 1 Comment | Filed in Community Related, Legislation, Parenting, Prescription Drugs, Prevention & Youth
A bill proposed by an Ohio legislator would require hospitals to report the number of opioid-dependent babies born each year, according to The Columbus Dispatch.
“It’s one of the few measurements we will have ongoing for future legislators to see if we’re impacting these addiction issues in a positive, negative or neutral way,” bill sponsor Representative Lynn Wachtmann told the newspaper. “That’s one of the frustrations I’ve heard time and time again — it’s hard to get good measurements in place so we know how we’re doing.”
The measure specifies that information reported by hospitals could not be passed on to law enforcement agencies. Other bills under consideration by the Ohio legislature include requiring hospices to track medications and dispose of them when they are no longer needed; banning doctors from prescribing certain drugs to treat opioid addiction unless the patient is also receiving behavioral counseling; and requiring counties to offer a full spectrum of drug-addiction and mental health services.
This summer, Ohio Governor John Kasich announced a $4.2 million pilot program to treat pregnant women addicted to heroin and prescription drugs.
A bill proposed by an Ohio legislator would require hospitals to report the number of opioid-dependent babies born each year, according to The Columbus Dispatch.
“It’s one of the few measurements we will have ongoing for future legislators to see if we’re impacting these addiction issues in a positive, negative or neutral way,” bill sponsor Representative Lynn Wachtmann told the newspaper. “That’s one of the frustrations I’ve heard time and time again — it’s hard to get good measurements in place so we know how we’re doing.”
The measure specifies that information reported by hospitals could not be passed on to law enforcement agencies. Other bills under consideration by the Ohio legislature include requiring hospices to track medications and dispose of them when they are no longer needed; banning doctors from prescribing certain drugs to treat opioid addiction unless the patient is also receiving behavioral counseling; and requiring counties to offer a full spectrum of drug-addiction and mental health services.
This summer, Ohio Governor John Kasich announced a $4.2 million pilot program to treat pregnant women addicted to heroin and prescription drugs.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
DECEMBER 28 V 23 TWELVE STEPPING WITH THE POWER IN THE PROVERB
He who rebukes a man will find more favor afterward
Than he who flatters with the tongue.
Than he who flatters with the tongue.
STEP 10 : Continued to take personal inventory and when we were
wrong promptly admitted it.
Well there you have it ! The truth and nothing but the truth will do. Telling people what they want to hear cannot and will not help them in the long run. True recovery starts with you being honest with yourself and especially others. Long gone are the days of making excuses and lieing to get what you want. Being honest with yourself will effect all of your relationships.My mom used to say your not fooling anyone but yourself ,looking back she was right. The Proverb mentions rebuking a man by telling him the cold hard truth. Speaking the truth admitting your mistakes will earn you humility, respect , trust ,and favor. Thirteen years of soberity and I am still discovering defects in my character that my wife loves too point out. It is stuff I never gave any thought too until she brought it too light.She is not trying too harm me ,back in the day that is what I thought ,but now I get it.Truth hurts especially if there is an area in your life that needs change. Using the Proverb and step ten will keep you sober !
KNOW THE TRUTH AND THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE !
You Probably Have ADHD
Deceptive marketing and celebrity endorsements have created an ADHD culture, much to the delight of the pharmaceutical companies.
photo: Shutterstock
According to the CDC, childhood diagnoses of ADHD have risen from 600,000 in 1990 to 3.5 million today and 15 percent of high school age kids are diagnosed with ADHD. These numbers represent “a national disaster of dangerous proportions,” according to Dr. Keith Conners, a long time proponent of recognizing and destigmatizing ADHD. Despite the numbers, Dr. Conners says that there is no ADHD epidemic. Instead, “This is a concoction to justify the giving out of medication at unprecedented and unjustifiable levels.”
Every single major ADHD medication has been in trouble with the FDA for misleading advertising, some more than once.Pharmaceutical companies have spent the past two decades engaging in aggressive and sneaky marketing that has included diagnosis- and drug-pushing doctors, playing on parents’ fears, and involving schools in the effort to attract, diagnose, and treat kids who suffer (or who appear to suffer) from ADHD. Ads for ADHD medication targeting parents feature headlines such as “Reveal his potential,” and “Thanks for taking out the garbage.” One ad has a hand-drawn picture of a kid and in large, childish writing, states: “Today I got a good mark. And made a new friend. What a great day!” In one particularly manipulative ad, a cheerful mom appears under the headline “I am not a bad mom;” the mom explains that her son’s school was ready to throw him out if his behavior continued. After taking the ADHD medication, however, her son “has become a thousand times better" and she has presumably been exonerated from bad motherhood.
Every single major ADHD medication has been in trouble with the FDA for misleading advertising, some more than once.
ADHD medications are marketed to doctors by psychopharmacology experts such as Dr. Joseph Biederman, a Harvard University child psychiatrist who is a huge proponent of stimulant medication to treat ADHD. Dr. Biederman also believes that the disorder is significantly underdiagnosed, and that failure to medicate will almost certainly cause risks as serious as drug dependence and problems with the law. As an example of Dr. Biederman’s enthusiastic support of stimulant medication for ADHD, in 2006 he told Reuters Health, “If a child is brilliant but is doing just OK in school, that child may need treatment, which would result in their performing brilliantly at school.” According to the marketing efforts aimed at doctors, much of which has been based on findings from Biederman’s research, ADHD drugs will “allow your patients to experience life’s successes every day.” One brochure for Adderall XR contains the remarkable statement that “Amphetamines have been used medically for nearly 70 years. That’s a legacy of safety you can count on.”
A Senate investigation in 2008 found that Dr. Biederman’s research was largely funded by drug companies, including Shire, the manufacturer of many of the leading ADHD medications. He was also paid $1.6 million for speaking and consulting. Dr. Biederman denies that the money had any effect on his research.
The more insidious marketing efforts are the ones that are not obvious. The main advocacy group for people with ADHD is CHADD (Children and Adults with Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder). CHADD was started in 1987 with the goal of bringing more attention to ADHD and its treatment. According to the group’s website, CHADD was founded “in response to the frustration and sense of isolation experienced by parents and their children with ADHD. At that time, one could turn to very few places for support or information. Many people seriously misunderstood ADHD. Many clinicians and educators knew little about the disability, and individuals with ADHD were often mistakenly labeled ‘a behavior problem,’ ‘unmotivated,’ or ‘not intelligent enough.’” CHADD offers advocacy, support, and a CDC-funded clearinghouse for “evidence-based information about ADHD.” They put out a magazine called Attention with articles such as “What’s in a Parent’s ADHD Tool Box?”
Pharmaceutical companies know what they’re doing: in 2012, sales of stimulants reached almost $9 billion, up from $1.7 billion in 2002.I checked the website's funding, and found no mention of the fact that the group was started with seed money from Ciba-Geigy Pharmaceuticals, the primary manufacturer of ADHD drug Ritalin. Furthermore, the drug company provided funds to create “fact sheets” about treatment, one of which claimed: “Psychostimulant drugs are not addictive.”
CHADD has also lobbied the DEA to loosen government restrictions on stimulants and has worked on an educational video about ADHD with the Department of Education. The 11 main sponsors for CHADD’s 12th annual conference in 2000 were all drug companies. Shire led the pack, and was also revealed to have paid $3 million so that CHADD’s magazine, “Attention” would be delivered to doctors’ offices across the country.
Perhaps the most deceptive—and saddest—marketing efforts are the ones aimed at children. “What’s Up with Astra?” is a comic book about a girl who has trouble with school and friends because of her inability to focus or stay still. Fortunately, a group of superhero medical experts called “the Medikidz” show up to tell Astra that she has ADHD. They explain how the disorder works in her brain, and introduce her to “Nora and Dopey,” who teach her how she can treat her ADHD.
The Medikidz were created by two pediatricians who were frustrated by the lack of child-friendly resources available to explain medical conditions. In addition to ADHD, the comic books deal with diseases and disorders including brain tumors, cancer, and allergies. According to their website, “Credibility is the cornerstone to the Medikidz offering - professional medical writers and doctors write all the content, which is subsequently peer-reviewed by leading consultants in each respective field. Medikidz also gains the endorsement of established and well-regarded medical institutions, foundations and spokespeople.”
According to the New York Times investigation, however, credibility may not be such a strong cornerstone for Medikidz, at least in the case of the ADHD comics. Shire paid to have them produced. From the comic: “Medicines may make it easier to pay attention and control your behavior!”
Drug makers also enlist schools to help with their recruitment. Diagnoses are almost too easy when resources such as the American Psychiatric Association include criteria for ADHD such as “makes careless mistakes” or “often has difficulty waiting his or her turn.” The New York Times article describes the case of Andy Perry, a rambunctious child from Mercer Island. Andy’s public school teachers recommended to Andy’s parents that he be evaluated for ADHD and medicated with Ritalin. The school psychologist gave Andy’s mother a pamphlet which included the statement: “Parents should be aware that these medicines do not ‘drug’ or ‘alter’ the brain of the child. They make the child ‘normal.’” Later, Andy’s parents noticed the Ciba-Geigy logo on the back of the pamphlet. The school acknowledged that the pamphlets had been provided to them by representatives from the drug company.
Andy Parry was on Ritalin for three years even though, according to his father, he never had ADHD.“Somebody came up with this idea, which was genius. I definitely felt seduced and enticed. I’d say baited,” Andy’s father told The Times.
Pharmaceutical companies know what they’re doing: in 2012, sales of stimulants reached almost $9 billion, up from $1.7 billion in 2002.
How I Learned to Love the Holidays
Addiction is a three fold disease—Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's. Here's my way out of that obstacle course.
naughty or nice
photo: Shutterstock
I first tried to get sober during the months of autumn, with
the holidays looming, Round about late November, digging my bitten
fingernails into the bottom of a chair at yet another meeting, some old
timer croaked, "Alcoholism is a three-fold disease." Smoke curled above
his unshaven lip. Indeed, I reminded my newly-sober self, physical,
mental, and spiritual. The guy then delivered his raspy punch line:
"Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's." My feelings were mortally
wounded.
The holidays had always been special to me, and I now felt a flush of shame over enjoying what these occasions signified: tradition, a sense of togetherness, of belonging to a family, of being loved. What a hopeless square. Worse still, a slight scratch at the surface with those same bitten fingernails revealed a degree of denial that I denied I was denying.
Let me roll it back. I grew up in a family that was as Catholic as any other Catholic family, meaning Mass most Sundays, First Communion, Confirmation, weddings and funerals in church. I didn’t hate it and I wasn’t scarred by it, but neither was I particularly awed. This was just what we did. But Christmas was a big deal.
My favorite aunt resided with my grandparents a few streets away from where I lived. By the time I was five, I was walking those blocks by myself, and I’d kick off Christmas Eve by toddling to their house for lunch. I would also harangue my aunt into giving up my Christmas present. I knew she had exactly what I wanted, whatever the hot toy was that season, or later, record albums we spun on her stereo console. The dining room table was decorated with Christmas cookies and breads, and I was denied nothing. At that northern latitude, darkness set in around 4 o’clock. These were the days of Christmas trees fashioned from aluminum branches that came out of a box, and the two of us would lie on the floor, admiring the tinted light and shadows a color wheel projected onto the ceiling. Does it sound like I was spoiled? I was.
New Year’s Eves were spent overnight at the home of that same grandma and grandpa, ringing out the old to the strains of Guy Lombardo and his Orchestra (that’s right, Guy Lombardo) while my parents, having by then capitulated to the suburbs, sneaked off to get wasted at somebody’s house party. The last one awake, I smuggled my transistor radio under the covers so I could get a dose of Lombardo antidote, a countdown of the Top 100 songs of the past twelve months. One year, Marvin Gaye finished on top of the pile with ‘What’s Going On?” I’m old.
By my teen years the scene shifted to the house of an aunt and uncle, beautiful, generous people who drew the family into themselves and spent days laboring over Thanksgiving and Christmas. They loved cooking, and this particular aunt was never afraid to fail with a recipe; she often did, to her own bemusement. A blaze roared from the fireplace, and their house was so full of guests that two tables couldn’t contain them, a couple of stragglers consigned to a couch, plates in their laps. My uncle owned a festive polka dot shirt he mothballed until November, when out it came to flatter him and insinuate itself into our holiday tradition. At some inevitable pause between pies and nuts, he revisited the shoe box containing snapshots from his army days and the stories that went along with the buddies in the pictures, a Norman Rockwell kind of experience, Italian-American subgenre.
Alas, the shift in our holiday gatherings wasn’t merely one of venue. I was undergoing an internal realignment into delinquency and alcoholism. I remember draining a bottle of my uncle’s cognac, getting into somebody’s car to bring back another one, crushing that, and then passing out. Feeling sheepish, I brought a fresh bottle to the next occasion, intended as a gift. I drank it all. I once showed up so drunk my holiday ended at the door, and I spent the evening out cold in an upstairs bed. By the time I came to, the party was over. On one of our last Christmases together, I arrived with not one girlfriend in tow, but two. What a classy guy. It wasn’t as if I didn’t love and respect these people; I absolutely did, I just didn’t know how to show it. That aunt and uncle died young, two grievous losses within the space of a year, and I can still feel their sting.
True desperation and darkness lived among the Ghosts of Christmases Yet to Come, when as an adult man beset by childish whims, I was surviving in New York City, awash on a sea of booze and drugs. I’d make it back to my diminished family if travel didn’t too terribly inconvenience my busy life, but that was so I could pick up some cash, from that favorite aunt for example. In the place of toys or record albums, it was now her opportunity to bankroll one of my holiday benders.
If I remained in town, it was with the best of holiday wishes. I muscled through a hungover and dopesick Christmas Eve to spend the day shopping and cooking, and then rendered the dish barely edible with some maniacal seasoning. The drunks I was cooking for were still picking at it politely when I slumped off to bed. Merry Christmas, boys.
Somewhere in existence there is a Polaroid shot of me in front of the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, dead drunk in the middle of the day, one eye pointed toward heaven, the other pin-wheeling the photographer into focus. I’m wearing somebody else’s coat, and thoughtfully sent the snapshot to that aunt, yes, that one, who remains to this day, perhaps not improbably, my staunchest ally.
The end of anything is hard, especially another lost year in which nothing happened, and so naturally, some of my grandest debacles occurred on New Year’s Eve. There are too many to recount here, but I can recall the utter numbness I experienced during the smallest hours of one brand new year, stupefied but not drunk, in a horrid dive off the Bowery. That precise moment is what I think of when I hear the jokey cliché about the Three-Fold Disease. I’m sorry to report that I was still years away from getting sober.
After that paralyzing New Year’s when I couldn’t get better and I couldn’t get worse, there were a handful of desultory Thanksgivings and depressing Christmases—the Rockefeller Center photo and the over-spiced dinner date from this era—and even after coming to a tenuous and brittle sobriety, the season when I first heard about The Three-Fold Disease, I was traveling back “home” for Thanksgiving to confront memories where there were once relatives. The fragmented family had its own issues and objectives, so I sat with four or five people at a table, carving up a supermarket turkey roll. Luckily, there were local AA meetings to dip into, where I could hear about Thanksgivings that were even bleaker.
I eventually made the decision—holiday travel becoming increasingly awful anyway-- to stay put and grind out the season in New York. I was graciously invited to a Christmas Eve open house that started early and ended late in an Upper West Side apartment that, New York being New York, was peppered with actresses and musicians and comedians. I wore a green shirt two sizes too big and a red tie that cost five dollars. The spirit of the thing, you know. Somebody read “A Visit from St Nicholas” while doing a Kirk Douglas impression. It was a big hit. A piano sat in the living room, and guests crowded round it to sing carols. It was like "Hannah and her Sisters" without Maureen O’Sullivan, and although I can’t be positive, she might’ve been there, too. This was traditional all right, but it was somebody else’s tradition. I didn’t belong to it, and it didn’t belong to me. In the middle of all this generosity and gaiety, there was something missing and I didn’t know what it was. I went home to my drafty studio and I cried.
And then one year soon after, while flipping TV channels, I stumbled across “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Bittersweet, quiet and unquiet down to the bluesy-jazz soundtrack, the tone of the program had always struck me, even in childhood, as pitch perfect. The season finds Charlie Brown in his usual, and given the circumstances, understandably downcast funk when Linus takes the spotlight and quoting from the gospel of Luke tells his pal, quietly again, what Christmas is all about.
And then I got lucky. At the last possible minute, I married a lovely woman, and with mere seconds left on the clock (for me, anyway) we were blessed with a baby girl. These two facts have everything to do with what I’m about to write. The hopeless square is back, and he’s not apologizing. While I feel compassion for those moody souls who dread the holiday season, it’s my favorite time of year.
I’ve left the Three-Fold Disease behind not by evading it, but by embracing it, like Charlie Brown getting straightened out by Linus. Christmas commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, and I’ve returned to the deepest roots of my own tradition through his essential message. To wit, and in the contemporary argot: I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was cold and you gave me your coat, I was sick and you took care of me, I was locked up and you came to see me. I was lonely and you took me out for a cup of coffee. I was broke and you hit me off with a few bucks. I made up those last two. They didn’t have coffee shops in the time of Christ. They didn’t have coffee either.
You don’t have to be a Christian to reach out for those ideals. You don’t even have to believe in God. What the Teacher was talking about was the measure of our humanity, which does seem to emerge in sharper relief around the end of the year, when it’s only natural to be taking stock. I’m sure he wasn’t saying charity should be held off until December.
I’m no self-flagellating penitent. Neither do I float above the New York streets in a state of religious ecstasy. I get high on the commercial buzz of the holiday season, too. I gape at the store windows along Madison Avenue, lusting for possessions I will most likely never have. I ramp up my credit card balances on Christmas presents, then spend the next quarter of the year paying them down.
I invited so many people to Thanksgiving dinner that I had to borrow a table and some chairs in order to seat them. In front of the oven, and channeling my uncle in a festive polka dot shirt of my own, I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple and surveyed the hungry looks on the expectant faces of my guests, believers, non-believers, apostates, heretics. This, I thought, is exactly what’s it supposed to be. A Three-Fold Disease? Not around my house. Not any more.
The holidays had always been special to me, and I now felt a flush of shame over enjoying what these occasions signified: tradition, a sense of togetherness, of belonging to a family, of being loved. What a hopeless square. Worse still, a slight scratch at the surface with those same bitten fingernails revealed a degree of denial that I denied I was denying.
Let me roll it back. I grew up in a family that was as Catholic as any other Catholic family, meaning Mass most Sundays, First Communion, Confirmation, weddings and funerals in church. I didn’t hate it and I wasn’t scarred by it, but neither was I particularly awed. This was just what we did. But Christmas was a big deal.
My favorite aunt resided with my grandparents a few streets away from where I lived. By the time I was five, I was walking those blocks by myself, and I’d kick off Christmas Eve by toddling to their house for lunch. I would also harangue my aunt into giving up my Christmas present. I knew she had exactly what I wanted, whatever the hot toy was that season, or later, record albums we spun on her stereo console. The dining room table was decorated with Christmas cookies and breads, and I was denied nothing. At that northern latitude, darkness set in around 4 o’clock. These were the days of Christmas trees fashioned from aluminum branches that came out of a box, and the two of us would lie on the floor, admiring the tinted light and shadows a color wheel projected onto the ceiling. Does it sound like I was spoiled? I was.
New Year’s Eves were spent overnight at the home of that same grandma and grandpa, ringing out the old to the strains of Guy Lombardo and his Orchestra (that’s right, Guy Lombardo) while my parents, having by then capitulated to the suburbs, sneaked off to get wasted at somebody’s house party. The last one awake, I smuggled my transistor radio under the covers so I could get a dose of Lombardo antidote, a countdown of the Top 100 songs of the past twelve months. One year, Marvin Gaye finished on top of the pile with ‘What’s Going On?” I’m old.
By my teen years the scene shifted to the house of an aunt and uncle, beautiful, generous people who drew the family into themselves and spent days laboring over Thanksgiving and Christmas. They loved cooking, and this particular aunt was never afraid to fail with a recipe; she often did, to her own bemusement. A blaze roared from the fireplace, and their house was so full of guests that two tables couldn’t contain them, a couple of stragglers consigned to a couch, plates in their laps. My uncle owned a festive polka dot shirt he mothballed until November, when out it came to flatter him and insinuate itself into our holiday tradition. At some inevitable pause between pies and nuts, he revisited the shoe box containing snapshots from his army days and the stories that went along with the buddies in the pictures, a Norman Rockwell kind of experience, Italian-American subgenre.
Alas, the shift in our holiday gatherings wasn’t merely one of venue. I was undergoing an internal realignment into delinquency and alcoholism. I remember draining a bottle of my uncle’s cognac, getting into somebody’s car to bring back another one, crushing that, and then passing out. Feeling sheepish, I brought a fresh bottle to the next occasion, intended as a gift. I drank it all. I once showed up so drunk my holiday ended at the door, and I spent the evening out cold in an upstairs bed. By the time I came to, the party was over. On one of our last Christmases together, I arrived with not one girlfriend in tow, but two. What a classy guy. It wasn’t as if I didn’t love and respect these people; I absolutely did, I just didn’t know how to show it. That aunt and uncle died young, two grievous losses within the space of a year, and I can still feel their sting.
True desperation and darkness lived among the Ghosts of Christmases Yet to Come, when as an adult man beset by childish whims, I was surviving in New York City, awash on a sea of booze and drugs. I’d make it back to my diminished family if travel didn’t too terribly inconvenience my busy life, but that was so I could pick up some cash, from that favorite aunt for example. In the place of toys or record albums, it was now her opportunity to bankroll one of my holiday benders.
If I remained in town, it was with the best of holiday wishes. I muscled through a hungover and dopesick Christmas Eve to spend the day shopping and cooking, and then rendered the dish barely edible with some maniacal seasoning. The drunks I was cooking for were still picking at it politely when I slumped off to bed. Merry Christmas, boys.
Somewhere in existence there is a Polaroid shot of me in front of the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, dead drunk in the middle of the day, one eye pointed toward heaven, the other pin-wheeling the photographer into focus. I’m wearing somebody else’s coat, and thoughtfully sent the snapshot to that aunt, yes, that one, who remains to this day, perhaps not improbably, my staunchest ally.
The end of anything is hard, especially another lost year in which nothing happened, and so naturally, some of my grandest debacles occurred on New Year’s Eve. There are too many to recount here, but I can recall the utter numbness I experienced during the smallest hours of one brand new year, stupefied but not drunk, in a horrid dive off the Bowery. That precise moment is what I think of when I hear the jokey cliché about the Three-Fold Disease. I’m sorry to report that I was still years away from getting sober.
After that paralyzing New Year’s when I couldn’t get better and I couldn’t get worse, there were a handful of desultory Thanksgivings and depressing Christmases—the Rockefeller Center photo and the over-spiced dinner date from this era—and even after coming to a tenuous and brittle sobriety, the season when I first heard about The Three-Fold Disease, I was traveling back “home” for Thanksgiving to confront memories where there were once relatives. The fragmented family had its own issues and objectives, so I sat with four or five people at a table, carving up a supermarket turkey roll. Luckily, there were local AA meetings to dip into, where I could hear about Thanksgivings that were even bleaker.
I eventually made the decision—holiday travel becoming increasingly awful anyway-- to stay put and grind out the season in New York. I was graciously invited to a Christmas Eve open house that started early and ended late in an Upper West Side apartment that, New York being New York, was peppered with actresses and musicians and comedians. I wore a green shirt two sizes too big and a red tie that cost five dollars. The spirit of the thing, you know. Somebody read “A Visit from St Nicholas” while doing a Kirk Douglas impression. It was a big hit. A piano sat in the living room, and guests crowded round it to sing carols. It was like "Hannah and her Sisters" without Maureen O’Sullivan, and although I can’t be positive, she might’ve been there, too. This was traditional all right, but it was somebody else’s tradition. I didn’t belong to it, and it didn’t belong to me. In the middle of all this generosity and gaiety, there was something missing and I didn’t know what it was. I went home to my drafty studio and I cried.
And then one year soon after, while flipping TV channels, I stumbled across “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Bittersweet, quiet and unquiet down to the bluesy-jazz soundtrack, the tone of the program had always struck me, even in childhood, as pitch perfect. The season finds Charlie Brown in his usual, and given the circumstances, understandably downcast funk when Linus takes the spotlight and quoting from the gospel of Luke tells his pal, quietly again, what Christmas is all about.
And then I got lucky. At the last possible minute, I married a lovely woman, and with mere seconds left on the clock (for me, anyway) we were blessed with a baby girl. These two facts have everything to do with what I’m about to write. The hopeless square is back, and he’s not apologizing. While I feel compassion for those moody souls who dread the holiday season, it’s my favorite time of year.
I’ve left the Three-Fold Disease behind not by evading it, but by embracing it, like Charlie Brown getting straightened out by Linus. Christmas commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, and I’ve returned to the deepest roots of my own tradition through his essential message. To wit, and in the contemporary argot: I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was cold and you gave me your coat, I was sick and you took care of me, I was locked up and you came to see me. I was lonely and you took me out for a cup of coffee. I was broke and you hit me off with a few bucks. I made up those last two. They didn’t have coffee shops in the time of Christ. They didn’t have coffee either.
You don’t have to be a Christian to reach out for those ideals. You don’t even have to believe in God. What the Teacher was talking about was the measure of our humanity, which does seem to emerge in sharper relief around the end of the year, when it’s only natural to be taking stock. I’m sure he wasn’t saying charity should be held off until December.
I’m no self-flagellating penitent. Neither do I float above the New York streets in a state of religious ecstasy. I get high on the commercial buzz of the holiday season, too. I gape at the store windows along Madison Avenue, lusting for possessions I will most likely never have. I ramp up my credit card balances on Christmas presents, then spend the next quarter of the year paying them down.
I invited so many people to Thanksgiving dinner that I had to borrow a table and some chairs in order to seat them. In front of the oven, and channeling my uncle in a festive polka dot shirt of my own, I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple and surveyed the hungry looks on the expectant faces of my guests, believers, non-believers, apostates, heretics. This, I thought, is exactly what’s it supposed to be. A Three-Fold Disease? Not around my house. Not any more.
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