Greens and Blues
I met my friend, Sean, ten years ago. We worked at an Irish pub, and found out pretty early on we were going to be hunting and fishing buddies. Our hours in the field together are in the thousands. For the first five years, give or take, we hit the bars and the rivers like the Dukes of Boulder to Yuma County. All along the way we would say, “Some guys just like to talk about it.”
At one point, Sean gave up drinking. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, so I didn’t ask much about it. He got a great job, bought a house a couple towns away, and now we get out when we can, which is still a lot by most standards.
We have gone flyfishing in a blizzard, ice-fishing in a blinding fog, dove hunting in a flood, goose, duck, and pheasant hunting all in near derecho force winds. We have had to share a fishing rod, because somebody forgot theirs at home, and we have tried to catch a game bird with our bare hands out of a bush, because we couldn’t shoot that close to a farmhouse. We are not good at sitting still, even when we are supposed to. Every now and then, on the real pretty days, Sean’s dad will join in on the fun that we get into. Especially if there is a cushioned seat, or radiant heat to up the comfort level. Back in the beginning, he never drank with us, but would take us around and keep us “safe” on the all-day hunt/golf/fishing benders, even if he was just driving the truck or boat. We had, and still have great times. We just used to do it a lot louder.
When we do get quiet, like when the sun peeks over the horizon through clouds stretched out like strands of pink and orange taffy, and the breeze carries the trill of the morning birdsong, the old man will say, “The greens are getting greener, and the blues are getting bluer.” This would always make everyone smile, and laugh with a sigh, “Yes, yes they are.” For ten years, I have been hearing Sean and his dad say this line in various situations and contexts, and, for me, it always does the trick. It’s always awkward anytime I try to toss the line out there, so I just let them decide when the moment calls for it. For eight of those ten years, I had no idea what was behind the “greens and blues”. I had never thought to ask, and part of me thought it none of my business.
When I landed at rock-bottom, Sean was the man I reached out to. He met me at my first meeting. It is a great act of selflessness to help a broken person carry themselves through the door to recovery from substance abuse, and I don’t know many more selfless than Sean in any situation. I knew, the moment he agreed to be there with me, that I was making the right decision.
About two months before that day, Sean and I had been pheasant hunting. I don’t remember how the hunt went whatsoever, but I do remember how kind he was to hit a couple liquor store drive-thrus for me on the two-hour drive back to my house. He didn’t give me a hard time at all. He made sure I got enough the second time, so I wouldn’t have to go out the rest of the night. At this time, just a few weeks from all out humiliating drunken despair, I wouldn’t have said I was an alcoholic. I was only waiting for the tide to roll my way.
I started going to meetings on the regular after that first one. I pushed all in on the material, the steps, sponsorship, internet videos and recordings, and everything else I could absorb. It had to be annoying for many people, but I had no other options. This had to work, and I wasn’t leaving any excuses up to chance.
An old-timer at the meetings has a story for just about every topic that comes up. Sometimes his message has a profound moral quality, and sometimes, well, you wonder if you missed it. One of his stories I always enjoy, is about when he remembers smiling for the first time in sobriety. I think he has been telling this story for almost twenty years. A story like this, when I combine it with life experiences and let it sink in deep enough, helps me realize the miracles are happening around us and within us whether we choose to be aware or not. And when I chose to learn how to become aware, it made all the difference...
I won’t tell his version from beginning to end, but it goes like... He woke up early one morning, and just happened to notice he was smiling, and it was so peculiar he looked at the time and still remembers what the clock read. From that moment on, his whole outlook changed, and he knew something was different. Driving down the road, he noticed the other cars and drivers behind the wheel, people on their bikes, and walking the sidewalks. He noticed the traffic lights and how bright and vivid they were, and then he noticed the trees. He could see that the trees had branches, and on those branches, he could see leaves, and the green in the leaves was greener. He saw the clouds in the sky and how their shapes stood out, and that the blue in the sky was bluer.
That’s when he knew things were going to be different, and that’s what keeps me sober today. The greens keep getting greener, and the blues keep getting bluer, every single day. I just never realized, until I heard the story for myself, that my friend and so many others, were already aware of the miracle, and ready for me when I was ready to make the choice to wake up with a smile on my face.
