Sobriety happens, and should happen here

Sue Clark

A former student of mine dropped by to see me last week. I usually

recognize my previous kids by their faces if not their names. This

time, I had to stare at him for several moments before he was even

vaguely familiar. He looked that good.

Bill had been a real terror while attending my school, Creekside

High School in Irvine -- a continuation school. I work with a tough

crowd, and Bill was one of the tougher ones. He spent his days

ditching school and his evenings partying with friends. His attitude

was surly, and his outlook was bitter. I’d suspected he was doing

drugs and alcohol, and he now confirmed this.

“I used and drank whatever I could get my hands on, and my

favorite drug was ‘whatever you’re having and more of it,’” he said.

I stared at his clear eyes, healthy skin and upright posture.

There was a glow about him. “You’re clean, now,” I said. “How long?”

“Nine months,” he replied. “Three more months, and I’ll take my

first cake, and also be able to go on panels.”

(The birthday cake is part of a recovery program, which celebrates

various lengths of sobriety, and the panels refer to hospitals and

institutions, where Bill speaks to young people in rehab.)

“I want to help kids who were like I was,” he said.

“What made you decide to get sober?” I questioned. “Was it a nudge

from the judge?”

“Well, that was part of it, but something clicked when I moved to

my sober living house,” he said. “I got support from the other guys,

and I just felt understood. They made me hit my knees in the morning

with a prayer to stay sober. Heck, I didn’t even know if I believed

in God, but I did what they told me. I also had to get a job. I kept

busy all day, and then we would all pile into a van and go to

meetings at night. Still do, as a matter of fact. No time to get into

trouble.”

He grinned. He also agreed to come and speak at his alma mater

later this month.

There has been a lot of talk about the dangers and inconvenience

of having sober living houses in our neighborhoods. The Newport-Mesa

area does have an abundance of these establishments. I, too, had

reservations until I had the chance to hang out at one in Costa Mesa

and really observe what goes on.

One of my good friends runs a men’s recovery house three blocks

from me. Our dogs are best buddies, and he and I are good friends, so

I’m over there hanging out a lot. It’s quite different from what I

imagined.

First of all, it’s very quiet. I’ll bet most of the neighbors

don’t even know it’s a sober living place. There are no loud parties

and no late night rowdiness. The guys get up, and are off to work,

just as Bill described. They get home, grab dinner and head out to

various recovery meetings. My friend counsels and educates the guys,

offers support, drug tests them, and gives encouragement to their

families and loved ones. He is on call for anxious phone calls 24-7.

In this house, there are no women allowed in the rooms, you obviously

have to stay clean, and any violation of the many house rules results

in expulsion from the premises.

When I’m over there, the men are quiet and respectful, never

complaining when my protective little terrier barks at them. They

apologize when they need to talk to my friend and jump to open the

gate for me. Manners are something they are relearning in sobriety.

The guys really want to make this living arrangement work. The

motto of their recovery program is “keep it simple.” My manager

friend is benevolent but firm, and I’ve seen him kick out a few for

violating the rules.

There is a NIMBY (not in my backyard) attitude toward these houses

that I’ve been seeing in many letters sent to the Daily Pilot. People

pay lip service to recovery, seem to respect sobriety but want

recovering people to live somewhere far away from their street.

Anywhere else. How about Compton?

But exactly how drug-free are our little oases? Sunday night, a

neighbor on the street behind me threw a huge party. People were

yelling and screeching well after 2 a.m. They hadn’t asked anyone’s

permission, and didn’t seem to care about keeping others awake with

their revelry. The hard-core partyers were still carrying on after 3

or 4 a.m. This is not a routine occurrence in my area, but it does

happen. I’ve called the cops a few times to quiet down non-chaperoned

teen parties, as well. Ironically, this type of noise would be the

last thing that would happen at a sober living house.

Newport-Mesa has suffered three alcohol-related automobile

accidents in the last few weeks. Where are these drivers going to

learn to thrive without booze and drugs? How will they find a new way

to live? Shall we banish them in a misguided effort to keep our

streets pure?

Newport Beach and Costa Mesa are in denial about the depth of the

problem in their own backyard. I’ve been to hundreds of soccer games

over the years, where both some of the players and some of the

parents were hung over. When my child was in high school, we all knew

who the kids and parents with the problems were.

I live on a street with over 20 elementary and junior-high-age

children. I have observed them all for years, and I can tell which

ones will end up at a school like mine. I can also predict which may

need a sober living house. I hope I’m wrong, but 33 years of

experience with teens often proves me right.

I hope when the alcoholic ones need a safe place to get sober,

they’ll find a house like Bill’s or like the one my friend operates.

I hope their depression and discontent will fade as they learn first

to be sober and then happy again. I hope they’ll begin to fill the

emptiness inside them with self-respect and good ethics.

I want them all to regain that glow you get from helping others

and from feeling good about yourself.

If not in our backyard, then where?

* SUE CLARK is a Newport Beach resident and a high school guidance

counselor at Creekside High School in Irvine.