Category Archives: Addiction


“Cycling the Blue Nile Gorge Ethiopia, we came from the other side. Last night we went to sleep to the sounds of Hyenas. We climbed about 6000’ feet and it was plenty hot, I could have used a few more gears!”
Morris Scott.
Age: Sixties. Bicycling across Africa.


As we age time flies.

If we attempt to slow it down it gets worse.

Its bad enough that we have to leave life, worse yet that we are aware of the problem and absolutely insulting that there appears to be no solution to this small but terrifying collection of horrors.


There are a great many things that affect one’s perception of time.

In fact, it is probably safe to say that there are no two humans for whom such details are remotely similar. One might even extend that observation by factoring in a minus sign for lower vertebrates, or even the lowest forms of life or perhaps even rocks.

No, I’m not kidding.

But that is not the subject.

What I am leading up to is that all these different perceptions fit into the same envelope.

This envelope has one label, one definition, one rule.

Are you ready?

All memory when recalled is viewed not as a constant but as an exact percentage of the life of each retriever, and becomes smaller with each passing second or fragment thereof.

I’m guessing that few of us are aware of this envelope and that most of us notice the increasing speed with which time flies. Add to this the fact that those of us with less to do tend to worry more, therefore adding one more difficulty by becoming attached to this problem.

If you find this knowledge frightening yet compelling, and you are tempted to seek a way to  slow time down…

Forget it.

I mean that literally.

Forget it.

One cannot overcome anxiety about anything at all.


any unwanted activity no matter how heavily addictive,  can be replaced.

Our focus on life can be redirected.

The so-called  St Francis prayer asks for such changes.

And, virtually everyone in recovery from drugs, alcohol or self-destructive, problem-solving techniques get clean and sober by accepting the love of people like themselves and passing it on to those who still suffer.

Accept The Love and pass it on.





(edited from yesterday)

Watching my children loving their children and their children’s children almost encourages me to stop beating myself for  all my meanness when drinking during The Fifties & Sixties..

But wait…there’s more…

Whenever there is a video from my son and his grandkids, I recognize his words; as he talks to the shorties; Billy Bob is copying his Papa.




My method of controlling my addiction to sugar focuses primarily on the embossed, round  chocolate sandwich with the sweet white filling.

The Oreo attack seldom occurs at Circle K because I rarely go there.

I rarely go there because I know I’ll have an Oreo attack.

This beastly side of my nature makes itself known most often at Fry’s or Safeway (owned by Albertson’s which is owned in turn by Cerberus Capital Management which is named after the three-headed dog of Hades.)

My response is nearly always the same.

I buy the large family size Oreo package for five bucks and try to get home with my prize before opening.  If I raid the bag of goodies on the bus-ride home I risk the danger of incurring the wrath of a diabetic driver  angrily spouting the no-eating-on-the-bus rule and who weighs at least three hundred pound and may kill me for my Oreos if I fail to  obey.

On my arrival at the Lee Broom Kitchen I quickly count out five Oreos and open the Oreo hole on the garbage disposal which I call The Cookie Monster, abruptly  grabbing another five Oreos, then dumping the rest of the package.

I then open the faucet and flick the Oreo destruction switch and listen to the gurgling “thank you” from The Cookie Monster’s throat as the bulk of my prize flows into the kitchen’s intestines.

If you are wondering why I call this apparatus installed in my sink the Cookie Monster, nothing else has ever gone down that drain; I am a great vegan cook who eats every morsel of his five meals a day and who usually manages quite well, thank you, with one teaspoon of brown sugar on his morning oatmeal.

If you read about my Valentine cookies on Facebook four days ago, that particular day ended with an Oreo attack.

When I arrived at Circle K that evening the clerk greeted me with a smile. If you need your Oreos I keep a package for you here at the counter. How many bus tickets do you need?




A friend of mine is a cloistered friend so how did this come to be?
Perhaps  because of the ache in her heart for…
A love who could never be.

(Perhaps her dad was the key.)

Her papa did drink from dawn to dusk from the time she was a girl.
He spent prime time aguzzlin’ gin as he…
gave the worl’ a whorl.

(So what does this mean to me?)

I was a Papa, indeed I was and a Great-great, now that I am.
And all of my children are beautiful now…
that I finally give a damn.

(So why do I feel so free?)

I could have been her Papa if not for a friend of a friend
Who shared about turning it over and…
How to make healing amends.

(So what does this mean to thee?)

That’s it, Dear Friend…
My name is Lee…
A very grateful Recoveree…
a Recovering Orphan of the Big Hazee
(immeasurably gratefully is he.)