The Lines On My Face: Each Line Shows the Map of My Life.. Every Experience, EVvery Broken Heart. It's there, On My Face for the World to See.

By James A Brown

A small-town Ohio boy experiences near-death situations, incredible journeys, tragic losses, relationship problems, and amazing triumphs, all while struggling with alcohol addiction. See what it took to obtain sobriety.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Brown
• Release date: Nov 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087931203

Book preview

1

PREFACE

I am not a writer, maybe a bit of a storyteller, but certainly not a writer. I never seemed to have the patience to sit down and focus. However, I wanted to share my life with anyone and everyone that wanted to read it. My hope is that if someone out there somewhere could get something from my journey and struggles, then everything I went through would be worth it.

Growing up in a small town has its benefits, but can also shelter you to what is really out in the world. I learned the hard way.

Having experienced sexual abuse growing up, having traveled far far away from home, having been cut by my wife, loss of a home due to a fire, attended college, Chiefmate aboard ship in Alaska, DUI’s, Hobknobbed with celebrities, all while addicted to Alcohol. I experienced heartbreak, and heartache, just as much as I caused the same.

My addiction was severe, I’ve tried multiple times to quit. Successful at times, but only for a brief period. I drank because I was depressed, I was depressed because I drank. The turmoil, embarrassment, and ridicule that came with it, only caused me to drink more. There was a period of 5 years when I remained drunk most days, all day.

I accomplished a lot. A lot to be proud of, and a lot to be ashamed of. I often think about what would have happened or how my life would have turned out if I had more control over my drinking. I ask myself almost daily, Why do I drink so much? Why am I such a bad person?

The answer? I’m NOT!

That’s what I want to share with everyone. Anyone who struggles with an addiction of any sort, YOU ARE NOT A BAD PERSON! We have problems, we all deal with them differently. My method was numbing myself with alcohol.

I have learned more about myself during sobriety, that quite honestly, would have caused me to drink. We get through it. I had to rely on Alcoholics Anonymous, my Higher Power, my friends, and Honesty. Without these, I had no chance. So, Now, 11 years sober, I can share openly the issues that made me who I am today.

All my stories are 100% true. Both good and bad! Even during the rough times, I had to keep telling myself…..

There is nothing so bad that a drink won’t make worse!

Chapter 1

Mechanicsburg

SOMETIMES IT TAKES A PAINFUL SITUATION TO MAKE US CHANGE OUR WAYS,--UNKNOWN

Alcohol! The root of my evil, or the escape of my evils? Women! The root of my alcohol, or the result of my alcohol? Only A lifetime of struggles shall tell.

I was born a poor, black child!

Well, not really, but with a name like James Brown, it sure would be nice to capitalize on that!

I was born in 1970, have a twin brother and two older sisters. As hard as it is to believe, my twin and I are 40 minutes apart, poor mom. My parents did the absolute best they could raising us. Dad worked his tail off building trucks, often working overtime or a second job to make ends meet. Mom worked in a factory also, trying to work full time and take care of four children. I’ve always said that If I could be like one person in this world, it would have to be my father. Mom and dad tried to teach us to be humble, to work hard, to treat everyone equally. They tried to help us build and shape our morals and character, to stay on the right side of life, living in a small town helped with our character. Unfortunately, I failed most of what I learned.

If you’ve never lived in a small town………………..

Mechanicsburg is a quaint little town. Population of approximately 1800 people. One stoplight, a bar or church on nearly every corner. 2 police cars (the second cruiser would come after the only cruiser at the time was set on fire). There is ONE school, K-12 in one building albeit, a large building, but we were all together. I swear there must have been something in the water, because in 1975, there were 13 sets of twins in the Mechanicsburg school system. Not only in the school, but all over town. I’m a twin, but so is my father, so are his brother’s daughters (my cousins), and so are my mother’s brother and sister.

So, if you ever travel through Mechanicsburg, Ohio….DON’T drink the water!

We lived in the middle of the grand incline known as Main St., which served as the major artery of this booming metropolis. Our large two-story red home, would commonly be referred to as The Red House’’, with a nice sized front porch, old rickety porch swing, where I’d sit with dad on those warm, rainy summer nights listening to the Reds game on the radio. it’s also where most of the town gathered, or so it seemed! Everybody knew us, we knew everybody, maybe not by their actual names, but we knew ‘em….. Rabbit, Frog, Mouse, Guardrail". knowing everyone has its goods and bad though. We couldn’t go to the store without mom knowing what we bought, who checked us out, and how much change we got all before getting home. A friend’s parents could reprimand us, and it was all OK...just like an extended family.

You could walk the streets without worry, you can go from one house to another just to see what your friends are doing. We played at our friend’s house; we ate at our friends’ house; we spent the night at each other’s house. Everyone used Sir and Miss, or Ma’am, respect was expected back then, but it really didn’t have to be, because it was a way of life! It’s how we were raised!

Living in a small town can limit the perspective of one’s mind, leaving one to believe that hardly anything exists beyond its borders. Mechanicsburg is a town that I love; one stoplight, one grocery store, three gas stations, and an equal number of bars and churches. Main Street made a perfect route to drive up and down on a Friday night. Perfect pastures and lush green fields and parks. It is the quintessential small farming town and community. Besides its charm, growing up in Mechanicsburg has had its challenges. Now, I’m not talking inner-city slum challenges, but as challenging as growing up in upper-middle-class suburbia can get. A lack of cultural experience and awareness seems to permeate The Burg leaving the kids of this small town with little knowledge of what the world truly has to offer.

As we hit our teen years, cruising was the thing to do. The typical route was to cruise along Main St from Ohio grain to Goshen Memorial Park, and back. Honking and waving to our friends as we passed each other. Occasionally stopping car door to car door, or resting our tails on the hood of our cars, just to discuss the game or girls.

Friday nights were special. It was the night that everyone looked forward to. It was one night a week that there was no homework, there was no stress, we had a later curfew; we refueled our cars, just in case the Certified gas station closed. It was the night that we all came together to pummel those on the opposite side of the green with white striped fields. it was after all ……

Football Friday night, Mechanicsburg Indians purple and gold, taking the field! Mechanicsburg marching band lining the tunnel! The euphoric screeches of unattended kids on the playground. The smells of coffee, hot chocolate, and popcorn fill the air. A cool crisp breeze blowing across the spectators sitting on the old rickety bleachers. The game is being called from above the concession stand. The teens with significant others, sneaking behind the fence for a little make-out session, those of us without a significant other, wishing we had one!

After the game, it was cruising time!

Saturday nights seemed to be when mischief happened the most. Perhaps because Friday was a long day with school, or that our focus was directed elsewhere. Saturday was the night that we spent the night away from home, either at Joe's, or Wades, or Gibsons.

Growing up in a small town is rather different. It’s a way of life that is comforting, fun, family-focused, yet in some ways, it shelters you.

Chapter 2

OUCH

Kids needed discipline. Especially me and my brother. We weren’t always sweet little angels.

Disciplinary action towards us when we did wrong was manageable, although a little extreme sometimes. Mom was the disciplinarian. I can imagine that raising 4 kids could get to be much from time to time, but oftentimes, our hides were tanned with anything within reach; hands, wooden spoons, fly swatters, shoes, broomsticks, anything! Spanking was an acceptable form of discipline back then, but sometimes, it was too extreme. Shit! Even the school principal could spank you! I could handle the spanking, but the thought of upsetting your mommy and daddy was punishment enough. To me, physical punishment was nothing compared to the emotional and mental degradation and humiliation.

I know that there was no intentional malice, but as a kid, you