My brother ... John... it was hard to watch a family member succumb to his addictions.....My Story.

It takes courage to show people your writing. Many times over the years I would show my poetry to my brothers. On some of my poems I'd spent hundreds of man-hours working on. One day, my brother John I handed him one of my poems to read and he said, "I’m not interest in reading that f__n sh_t!”
I realize now and in hindsight that I had forgotten that he had been kicked out of school in grade seven for smoking and was illiterate.

I remember a trip my younger brother and I took to California. The drive from Vancouver to Los Angeles took us about 36 hours. We took turns driving, one driving while the other slept. My brother had pulled our vehicle into a gas station parking lot and aimed it the wrong way. When I awoke I drove for 4 hours back the way we had come. When my brother awoke I could hear him cursing because he had already driven that stretch and was recognizing the landmarks.

In Los Angeles, California, while staying at the hotel, my younger brother approached me and asked if I could assist him in writing out a post card. He wanted to send it to our mom back home in Canada. It was a star-lit evening and we were sitting at a table on the hotel patio. My brother had been drinking heavily that evening and was drunk.

While we were working on the post card a fellow showed up with lady and sat at the table next to us. My brother began “hitting’ on  the man's woman, she was very attractive and wore a nice smelling perfume. I had gone up to him and explained to him my brother had been drinking all evening and was drunk and that we were from Canada on were on a holiday. If I hadn't’t intervened my brother would have had his front teeth knocked out. What made matters worse too, was that my brother had long hair, and in those days was considered a hippie. I learned that short-haired fellow was a sergeant, stationed at a nearby military base. He asked me if I could take my brother back to our hotel room. And I did.

The next day I questioned my hung-over brother about the incident. And he told me he couldn't remember it. To this day I still "thank" the U.S.A. military officer for showing restraint, not giving my intoxicated brother a beat-down. For years afterwards I shared with my brother John the story.
My younger brother died at the age of 44. He fell victim to his addictions: nicotine, cannabis, and alcohol. Ten years prior to his death I noticed that he had developed a short persistent cough and had asked him to see a doctor. He said, "Tim we all have to die sometime."
Today and in hindsight, I realize now that he probably didn't want to see a doctor because then he would've had to deal with his addictions. It was hard for me to watch my brother deteriorate over that 10 year period, both physically and mentally.

I myself don't smoke or toke, and have the occasional drink. I value what little brains I do have, and my health. Sometimes, in the past I've gotten drunk, and many of those times and being in the wheelchair - could have seriously injured myself.  (Future stories.)
Four months before he died my brother told me that he had tried on many occasions to quit, but couldn't. He also said, that he enjoyed the “buzz" he got from it. My brother was a carpet layer. Carpet laying is heavy hard work. He said that he was on his knee's all day, using some sort of tool that required him to operate it by banging it with his knees. And when he came home from work and to work through the physical pain he would drink and toke.

My brother was a good looking man and I remember once he went to the store to buy a quart of milk and came back with a jeep full of girls. He liked to party and he liked party girls. John would spend all his hard-earned money on them. My brother loved to fish and so do I. He had a boat and would take his drinking buddies out with him fishing, toking and boozing. In all the years he had his boat I'd only been it twice. The one time, I was with John and my older brother and I asked them not to use the "f" word. Every third word they were using was "f___k!" My older brother said, "What you got virgin ears!" My older brother was fired from a good paying job because he swore at some customers. I was in the boat for two hours and it took me two weeks to work the "f" word out of my vocabulary.

Because of the intervention I did, my brother began to avoided me.
I shared with him my dislike for his life-style choices, his pot-smoking and boozing buddies he chose to associate with. I could never understand why he would never visit me - we only lived 20 miles apart. Also I was experiencing financial hardship and was angry that the money he spent on booze and pot in one month was the amount of money I lived on. So attending his funeral I had a lot of "things" to work through. I try and to remember the good times we had and to learn from the "rest."

Because of my paralysis I have approximately 40% use of my original lungs. I find it hard to be around people that smoke because I start to "gag." I was so happy when the government passed the non-smoking laws. It is hard for me to be around my family, their friends, and people who smoke. Except for my older sister, a nurse, she doesn't smoke, her husband has recently quit, about his fourth time since they've been together. Another younger brother two years younger than me, and one year older than the one that died, got cancer. The doctors cut a tumor out of his neck and part of his tongue off, he had to re-learn to speak. He quit smoking, unfortunately his girlfriend still smokes. She now has smokers-cough.

I suspect that the misguided students attending our universities are using the labs and what they are taught, making the "the ultimate joint." I suspect the future generations will be growing and smoking "joints" 20 times stronger than the ones used today.

The marijuana today is 10 more times more powerful than the marijuana that was smoked during my teenage era. Long-term use of marijuana causes brain damage, nobody can tell me different, because I've seen the effects it has had on my family and friends. Some of my friends I've had to disassociate from because of their negative personality change, quick to anger and distorted rationalizations - their mental deteriation a slow insidious downward spiral. Those who smoke, toke, and drink become the walking dead. The tragedy being for most "denial."

Maybe by telling my story about my relationship with my brother help others.

My brother John had a lot of good him in. At his funeral he had about 350 people attend. He was a good friend to many and for many he'd given unselfishly. John would not want other people to live a short-lived life and die the type of death he did.

Even with my severe disability, and all the heart aches and pain that goes along with it, I see beauty and enjoy life. Here is a poem too, honoring my brother and to give insight. Apart yet Together

Below are letters I received from people that knew John and had read this story.

Kristen

Brenda (was John's girlfriend in the last three years of his life.)