Alcohol has taken its toll

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Thirty-two years ago my family suffered the first of many losses of human life to alcohol. Although it was not a direct result of alcohol, one of my brothers died attempting to appease an alcoholic. He accidently shot himself while hunting ducks for hangover soup.

George turned 18 on Sept. 18, 1958 and died less than a month later. He wasn't an alcoholic so it remains a mystery to me why he died because of his alcoholic relative. He drank the occasional beer or two but never got rip-snorting drunk. He was not a bruiser nor was he a womanizer. He had his girlfriends and treated them with respect.

We had been warned about alcohol and this was the first of many deaths we were warned about. The warning was not by way of prophecy or by someone mad at the family. It came through a little four by four black and white photograph, which George took the spring before his death.

The photograph was of my mother by herself. She had the Rocky Mountains to her back and the day was mid-afternoon.. A small shadow was at her feet. She had her hands behind her back and her braided hair was also swept back. She wore a blue flower print full-length linen dress with a white apron tied around her waist. And there in plain view was an unmistakable images superimposed on her chest of a skill and crossbones - the warning of death. It was the very symbol used as a warning on bottles of dangerous and poisoned chemicals. What is more poisonous to the mind, body and soul than alcohol when abused.?

Now any lab technician could undoubtedly ascertain what nationality of people he was catering to just by looking at the pictures. And if the person had any knowledge about Native people he would probably know how we tend to be superstitious. For sure if he was to discover the picture with a superimposed image, he would have made it known to others. It would have been a sensational story in any newspaper. So, he was either pulling a gag or had no knowledge of the photograph.

Two years before George's death we had moved to Hinton to the lure of the pulp and paper been. My father and older brothers worked in the logging camps north of the town. West of Hinton was a railroad landing called Brule, where we lived in the spring of 1958. Some of the boys worked in the lumber yards while others packed or peeled ties while living in trailers along the landing.

While reading a comic in his trailer one Sunday afternoon, George came upon an advertisement offering a miniature camera along with two rolls of film,. But there was the added catch that the company would develop the two rolls after they've been exposed. Needless to say, my brother fell for the trap and promptly mailed the coupon with his $2.85 plus postage.

A few weeks later he received his little camera and proceeded to capture the happy faces of our family on film. He took pictures of the family in a bunch as well as some individual shots. He took one of our cute little baby brother by himself as well as the prophetic picture of our mother.

Perhaps it's just coincidence, but I happened to be with him at the time of his death when he blew out his throat about three feet in front of me. The trauma of seeing it has lingered in my mind all these years but being in a state of shock I haven't been able to cry. I had to take stimulants 20 years later at a funeral of two of my other brothers just so I could cry, because I didn't want to give the impression I was without feeling.

When I am real drunk I do cry apparently but when I'm sober I still can't show any emotion.

Counting George's death in the past three decades we have averaged in our family every two years. I am including cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces and in-laws. Eleven died while under the influence of alcohol; the others were indirectly related to alcohol. Is it any wonder we can't show any real love towards each other when we don't know, who is next to get drunk and get themselves killed!

But we have been warned as unbelievable s it seems whether it was a cruel joke by some lab technician or supernatural warning. It has had some significance in my way of thinking. I have pushed my luck, to the point of exhaustion. I have come face to face with the grim reaper more than once. And for that reason I believe the Lord has stepped in. allowing me to live longer so that I may tell this story.

I have made a total mess of my life for the love of alcohol. Satan, in the guise of sweet wine, fiery whiskey or soothing beer has enticed me to play with the fires of hell. Needless to say it has caused me sorrow. Alcohol has led those who once loved me to turn away from me and it has made me the target of vengeance and the wrath of man.

So now I walk this earth alone. Although I have sworn myself to complete abstinence from alcohol and drugs, I regret I did so little too late. Alcohol and drugs have robbed me of my family and made me an outcast.

Someday I hope the Lord will hear my prayers and take me into his fold. And I hope that through this article I have deterred at least one other person from reaching for the bottle.

May God bless each and every one out there. My heart goes out to all who are struggling.