My dad was an alcoholic, not the ones you see on tv. He worked 5 days a week at a fish cannery in Terminal Island at the Port of Los Angeles. YComing home from his favorite bar a telephone pole jumped out of nowhere and hit my dad’s F150. I should say my F150 because I saw my self driving that truck one day when I was old enough.
After the dust settled my dad would get a ride to and from work from a co worker who lived 4 blocks away. This was in the 70’s so they did not have cellphones back then. My dad would walk to the corner before sunrise and wait for his friend to drive by. This went on for many years. I forgot his name but I remember his face. I wish I had a chance to tell this man or his family thank you for being there for my dad.
Years later it dawned on me. I was that man as I was now giving a co worker a ride to and from work for several years as he was battling his own addictions. Although my friend was an addict/user, I don’t know the terminology, he rarely missed work and if I couldn’t make it he’d find a way. Thanks to cell phones.
Workers write 