I
been wanting to cook some chicken lately, but get disgusted at the outrageous prices they want for breast meat (which, of course, is promoted as being better for you.)
i don't have a preference over light or dark meat, so i did what i used to do when i was feeding a family of four. i bought myself one of those 10 pound bags of leg quarters you can get for comparably cheap (.70/lb as opposed to $2.+/lb.), divided it up into separate portions, & froze what i won't be cooking tonight.
since my cardiac scare back in august '21, i've been trying to eat more ''heart healthy", so i ripped all the skin off & threw it away before freezing.
while i was doing this, it brought back memories from over 20 years ago (God, has it really been that long?) of when i was in the AA program, living at my sponsor's house, & attending meetings sometimes twice a day. (yep - that was me.)
i bring this up because it reminded me that, being in a rural farm area, many a recovering addict needing income ended up working at either the local chicken or beef plants, processing - y'know, once-upon-a-time ..... Animals.
but as i stood there at the comfort of my own kitchen sink, wrestling slippery skin off of slippery chicken, i thought about what it must have been like for those who worked in the meat houses. i don't (& don't want to) know what they might have seen or heard as they struggled with their sobriety; the most i know is that cutting up dead chickens in a refrigerated room wearing rubber gloves & boots, hair net, & a lab coat type thing was more than i could have handled in my then fragile state! yet day after day, these determined souls worked in what, to me, would have been deplorable conditions, while living in a half-way house with other addicts, going to meetings, & trying to break free of their particular drug of choice.
some made it ~ some didn't; thankfully i had already given up drinking before i reached this point in my life, & pot (cigarettes & coffee) were my sidekicks; never tried coke or anything harder (which was probably my saving grace.)
* * *
. . . . . my chicken's in the freezer now ~ a leg quarter awaits my final decision for tonight's dinner ~ but i'm haunted as well as humbled by the men & women who fought to reclaim their lives in such bleak surroundings.
& sadly enough, i doubt that very little has changed since way back then . . . only the names, & the tired faces.
May They All One Day Find Their Peace.
II
it occurred to me as i was proofreading the above paragraphs, that i’d been stirred to write this on memorial day weekend.
& though you can’t begin to compare the soldiers who gave their lives for their country with alcoholics & drug addicts, still, many families have lost loved ones who were fighting a completely different kind of war.
though numerous people would disagree, i don’t believe addiction is a choice. it often begins as a way to cope/escape, but ends up swallowing its victim whole if they are unwilling or unable to receive treatment.
unfortunately, many who make it back from military battles have wounds & scars, seen & unseen, due to their experiences during combat. searching for relief, they end up again fighting for their lives, yet in the unfamiliar territory of addiction.
my heart desires that we would respect & honor those who have lost their life ‘as they knew it’, whether it be from man made wars, battles with addiction, or both.
God bless them, & those of us they leave behind ~ still loving the ones we used to know.
