Alcohol was not part of my consciousness for most of my growing up years. My Dad did not crack open a beer when he watched the Giants play football on Sunday afternoon. Wine was not part of dinner, unless it was a very unusual occasion, like the Passover Seder. I don’t recall a time when either of my parents said, in the midst of a stressful time, “I need a drink!” I didn’t see alcohol in either of my grandparents’ homes. If I did, it was a dusty bottle in a cabinet. It had almost no role in our culture. Our celebrations involved food – that was the reward, that was the comfort. Ice cream or cookies were much more of a celebratory thing than making a toast – even for the adults.
It changed after Mom and Dad took a trip to California with their friends to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary. When they came back, I distinctly recall that wine or a cocktail might be enjoyed as part of a meal, or as part of socializing with friends. That trip was in the summer of 1974, and I was almost 15. The combination of the influence of their friends, who knew a bit more about wine and liquor, being on vacation and not having their children around, made them open to enjoying the fruits of the vine.
Given how things had been, I noticed this change. In fact, by the time I went to college, two years later, I was a bit concerned that my mother was enjoying wine a little too much. I saw that she had taken to having a glass of wine more regularly – not even on a special occasion, it could just be an ordinary dinner! Or as part of a late afternoon snack with cheese and crackers! I was still not ‘of age’ so I had not partaken, and I wasn’t particularly interested in this new ritual. I wondered whether Mom was headed for trouble.
Then I went to college. My attitude changed somewhat. I appreciated the fact that alcohol could be a good social lubricant, though in my experience, the more I drank the more withdrawn I became. Getting buzzed was good, going further than that didn’t make me feel better and could get me sick. I seemed to have a natural defense to over doing it. I also never developed a taste for beer, which was the cheapest option and the beverage most often offered at college parties. I could enjoy wines, particularly Liebfraumilch (a semi-sweet white wine – Zellerschwarzkatz was especially popular in my day) or sangria; or a cocktail (I loved white Russians – still do). Fortunately for me, though, I did not have that predisposition that some are cursed with to not be able to stop drinking once they start. A couple of glasses and I was done.
When I returned home, I wavered in my judgment of my mother. It made me a little uncomfortable that she seemed to enjoy a glass of red wine so much, or a scotch on the rocks. But, in retrospect, it was also clear that she was capable of limiting her intake on each occasion – I can’t say I ever saw her drunk. My Dad would frequently have something along with her, but he never seemed to be as taken with it. And, I never saw him drunk, or even tipsy, either.
While I was growing up, I thought this attitude toward alcohol was the norm. I had an inkling, through my friendship with Susan, that some families were more liberal in their usage. Her dad offered her a sip of his beer when I was visiting (we were probably ten years old at the time). They had wine with dinner on the weekend. They were Italian. I thought that explained it. Maybe it did, but as I have gotten older, and as my family has evolved, I realize that my experience is not the norm. I think for American Jews of a certain age (I am 63), alcohol was not routinely consumed in their childhood home (perhaps it was part of ritual or part of Shabbat dinner, but not much beyond that). As with anything, I am sure there are exceptions. But, I do believe the incidence of alcoholism was lower among American Jews. I’m not sure that is still the case.
I have had occasion to think about this any number of times over the years. I just finished reading Matthew Perry’s memoir, Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing, which details his harrowing struggle with alcoholism and drug addiction. I feel quite fortunate to not be afflicted with the disease. I struggle with my relationship with food, but I still wouldn’t characterize it as an addiction for me.
The question, though, that I still ponder is: what is a healthy approach to alcohol, and since marijuana is now legal, weed? There is a gray area, no? There is recreational use, plain and simple; using it occasionally or even regularly but not where it interferes with anything. Then, there might be a place where one uses too much, but it still isn’t abuse. Or, by definition, is over-use abuse? I imagine there is space between drinking too much and being an alcoholic. Is it a question of reliance, or craving? Is it a matter of how much it changes your behavior? I know people who become belligerent; I also know people who love everyone once they have had more than a few. What does ‘healthy’ use look like? According to dietary guidelines put out by the U.S. government: “adults of legal drinking age can choose not to drink or to drink in moderation by limiting intake to 2 drinks or less in a day for men and 1 drink or less in a day for women, when alcohol is consumed. Drinking less is better for health than drinking more.” One drink is defined by the Mayo Clinic as 12 ounces of beer or five ounces of wine. I’m not sure what that means if you don’t drink daily. Can you drink a week’s worth on a Saturday night?
I don’t know what the answer is. I know for me, I don’t like the idea of ceding control of my behavior to any substance. I like being in command of my faculties – like I said before, a little tipsy, or buzzed is enjoyable – more than that is uncomfortable. I have come to peace with not being the life of the party (that is a joke: I have never been the life of the party, nor wanted to be), though sometimes I wonder if I am just no fun at all! On balance, I’ll take it – it is better this way.
Stories I Tell Myself 