Death by...

I got a call from my dad the other day, saying that an old friend of mine had died.  Well, he wasn't very old, and he wasn't really a friend.  The fact of the matter was that the guy, at least when I knew him, had a major problem with anger control.  I watched him beat some kid whose head was encircled by this guys arm, some 30 times in the face.  Once, when this guy was on crutches, sitting outside the locker room door at high school, he tried to trip me with his crutch.  Not a good idea.  I was recovering from my one and only alcoholic binge, and was in no mood to be messed with.  My reaction was to grab his crutch and fling it across the gymnasium.  That didn't sit well with him, so he came after me, hopping on one foot.  Apparently, he thought he could take me, even on one foot.  After receiving the reward of his efforts directly in the middle of his nose, the other kids in class grabbed him and kept him from destroying me, thankfully!  He came away with a broken nose, and I survived.

Well, I hadn't seen my friend since 1980 or '81, though I had heard that he was in and out of trouble, drinking like a fish, and taking drugs.  I guess he had had a hard way to go growing up with and alcoholic parent, and took his anger and frustration out in those ways.  Poor guy.

So, it turns out that he went to a party, and drank until he died.  That just seems impossible to me, and sad.  It makes me want to be sure not to become an alcoholic myself.  I'm bad enough without the alcohol.  Yeah!