ONLY MORTALS CAN BE HEROES
by
David J. Weaver
EPILOGUE
Beyond the Highest Mountain
Not once during the 2004 Christmas holidays did I feel the urge to pick up again– not once! Given my history, convincing Dad that there would be no more relapses was another matter. In a strange way, the stress I had caused my father because of my drugging brought us closer. For this reason, both of us felt at-ease discussing Dad’s misgivings about my resolve to stay clean. We talked often. Which was good.
Once again we tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and then we took inventory of my strengths and weaknesses in order to find the best way to get there. Youth was on my side, definitely. Repeating his mantra, Dad told me I was smart enough and should consider getting an education. I began to believe that maybe this time I could succeed in school if I applied myself. Who cares if I had finished high school at the bottom.
For the next several days, Dad and his legal assistant, Cindy, took time away from the law practice to find a college willing to take a chance on me. Incredibly, they were shooting for me to start school in January, and it was already January. Talk about a longshot! Dad was trying to get me enrolled in order to give me something to do because he was frightfully worried about my relapsing. Then the surprise announcement: A four-day ski trip to Breckenridge, Colorado for January 21-25, 2005. Dad figured this would give me something to look forward to and also would serve to distract my idle mind from thoughts of drugging, not that I had any such thoughts.
Shortly after Dad sent money to pay for the ski trip, an advertisement appeared in the local newspaper from Penn Highlands Community College posting the schedule of classes to begin January 10. Luckily, I was able to sneak under the wire and enroll in the school of Human Services. My first class was scheduled for Tuesday. This presented a dilemma for Dad and me. If I went skiing in the Rocky Mountains, I would miss three days of school, not a good idea considering what a poor student I had been. Surely, Dad would eat the money he spent on skiing or invite someone to take my place. We talked about choices, and Dad decided the best thing for both us would be to go on the ski getaway. My father’s twisted reasoning was brilliant.
"Adam, sometimes in life we are called upon to make hard choices. This is one of those times. If you go to class, you’ll be just like all the other sheep who let themselves be led anywhere, regardless of the danger. They can’t think for themselves. We are better than that. It’s time to separate the sheep from the goats. No need for you to follow blindly in line. Besides, what you might miss in class will be more than offset by what you will learn spending four days in the mountains with me. Already you’ve learned how to analyze a situation and make the right decision for both of us, without regard to what others might think. Classes begin on Tuesday, and we’re not leaving until Friday. After three days of study, you’ll need a break. All work and no play is no good for anybody. I don’t care who you are." We laughed and confirmed our reservations.
On Tuesday, January 11, 2005, with an angry stomach and a thin bead of sweat formed across my upper lip, I showed up for Introduction to Sociology. There was but one open seat along the back row and I took it, head down but hopes up. Regaining my composure a little, I risked a glance to the right.
"Well, hello!" she said. "I’m Andrea."
Softly I introduced myself, doing my best to suppress the butterflies which started swarming in my stomach. We talked in muted tones for a few minutes before class began. In that short conversation I learned that Andrea had been a hairdresser but that her dream was to become a doctor of chiropractic healing. Financial constraints held her back. I explained that I had been a doper for 12 years and was getting a late start in college, half-expecting Andrea to bolt after being informed of my sordid past. Maybe the chair kept her from running; maybe she saw something in me she liked; but, she stayed.
Only one time before had I been high on feel-good chemicals produced by my own body. Way back when I was delivering pizzas I made a Friday night call to Ashbridge Oil Company. It turns out a 17-year-old girl had phoned the order. She was cleaning the office after hours. Distinctly I remember handing the boxed pizza across the office counter to the girl. She paid me and gave me a tip while I stood there like a doofus, momentarily transfixed by her slightly off-centered smile and disarming demeanor. Finally, she said, "You can leave now." So I left.
Through my drug years and my time at St. Jude’s I held onto the pleasant smile of that young cleaning girl. Often I wondered what would happen to her. Would life become a burden? How would she handle hard times? Would she find love? Her name I didn’t know. Her face I couldn’t forget. Then, on that first day of class, Tuesday, January 11, 2005, the girl in the backrow sitting to my right told me her name. "Well, hello! I’m Andrea."
The trip to Breckenridge was surreal: mountains full of snow, sky Colorado blue, feelings I never before knew. But I didn’t tell Dad about these feelings. That would come later. For three days we skied down slopes too steep to ski. Evenings we rested our muscles and walked to the village for dinner and hot coffee. One day we rented snowmobiles and buzzed up to the Georgia Pass, where we could see Pikes Peak in the distance. When the time was right, Dad and I talked about personal things, but mostly we talked about accepting life on life’s terms. In his own way, Dad was trying to arm me to meet the challenges of a world I had thus far avoided. In my mind, I was ready, but I knew only time would convince Dad of this fact.
Our last day on the mountain was memorable. The end of the highest chair lift has a tow rope that hauls advanced skiers an additional 1,500 feet to the very top of the mountain bowl. A sign as big as a barn cautioned skiers: WARNING! EXPERT SKILLS REQUIRED! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SKI THIS AREA UNLESS YOU ARE AN EXPERT. Dad knew I wanted to ski the challenging terrain of the dangerous mountain bowl, but he himself was no expert. Dad said he would wait for me at the bottom of the run, but I balked, not wanting to ski alone. After a moment of indecision, a determined voice sounded, "Adam, we came this far together, let’s go to the top of the mountain together." With plenty of guts but hardly any brains, my father grabbed the tow rope and together we did go to the top of that mountain.
Biting wind pierced our nylon ski jackets. Thin air shortened our breath. On top of the mountain we stood, my dad and me, our ski tips hanging two feet over a sheer cliff. We gazed at the magnificent panorama for a minute or two, each of us too awed to speak. Putting his arm around my shoulder and giving me a hug, Dad said, "Adam, look out there. Can you see beyond the highest mountain? If you let yourself, you can." In a flash Dad dove into his descent with me on his tail.
One of the best things I ever did was go on that ski getaway with my father. It was good not only for the stuff we did on the mountain, but also for the stuff we settled in our heads. When I returned on January 26th, I couldn’t wait to get in touch with Andrea– those damn butterflies wouldn’t let me alone. I sent an email that read: "Hi Andrea, I was just thinking that it was a little rude of me not to give you my email address since you gave me yours. Sorry. Give me a call if you need anything or maybe we can get together sometime and do something. Talk to you later. Adam."
That spring after the weather broke, I drove Andrea to Wolf’s Rocks, an out-of-the-way place in the woods not far from home. On the way, we stopped at Sheetz and I bought hot coffee for me and chocolate no-bake cookies, three in a pack, for Andrea. In the past I would have stolen a Snickers bar, but this time I paid for my stuff. Which was better. Often during my troubled years, I would hike to Wolf’s Rocks for timeouts. In that limestone cathedral, which a thousand hemlock candles, I found peace. It was at Wolf’s Rocks with me sipping coffee, Andrea munching cookies, and only the birds as witnesses that I asked her to marry me. She said yes!
This past year was the best of my life. My family loved me more than before– and it went both ways. Ben had graduated from college and moved home. He got a job and a girlfriend. Which made me proud. Sometimes after work, Ben would jam on his guitar that he had set-up in the basement near the pool table. His choice of music invariably annoyed Dad, who claimed to have been blessed with an ear that was thirsty for classic musical progressions. Regrettably for Ben, there was no classical music in his rock repertoire. One time during one of Ben’s concerts, the maestro was unable to restrain himself and he hollered down the basement stairs asking if I would please steal Ben’s guitar again.
As for me, I had joined a duck pin bowling league with Ben, my cousin Kevin, and Uncle Dan. Mostly, though, my energy went into school studies. On the inside, I was wary of my ability to handle college. So I studied hard. I also got a little job at school working 30 hours a week. No big money here, but when you’re a student every little bit helps. In December, providing the gods are still with me, I’ll graduate with an Associates Degree. From there I need two more years to finish my Bachelors. Nothing will stop me. So far my GPA is 3.7. I am on the Dean’s List and a member of the National Honors Society. Not bad for a doper!
Our August 12, 2006 wedding fast approaches. I am ready. When I am with Andrea, that same feeling comes over me as when I delivered pizza to her some years ago– never fails. Funny how love works. Should hard times hit– and they will– I’m ready. Considering what I’ve already been through, what can stop me. Now I am standing on top of the highest mountain, looking beyond. Time to live to the fullest.
June 2006
Since the completion of this epilogue, Adam was awarded his Associates Degree and finished his coursework for a Bachelor's Degree in Human Services from Empire State College. He is awaiting receipt of his diploma in December of 2008. Adam enjoys his job as a certified personal trainer and is delighted to interact with his clients.
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