“It happened again. Devastatingly again. One of us lost his son. And not just lost him but lost him in a way that didn’t have to happen. We’re still grieving the loss. We’re still wringing our hands and looking to our own kids hoping, wishing, praying that we don’t lose them. It didn’t have to happen.”
Steve Straessle, principal of Catholic High School in Little Rock, wrote these moving words about the tragic death of Patrick Clemmons, six years ago.
“The boy,” Straessle said, “was a gentle soul with dark hair and a face that favored his mother’s. He was kind, and he was clever. He had a creative flair that permeated everything about him from the music he loved to the clothes he wore. We loved that about him.
“Patrick was not a bad apple, a thug whose demise was inevitable. It wasn’t like that. He was an Eagle Scout. He was on athletic teams at his school. He was a National Merit Commended Scholar. The last time we saw him, he was mowing the yard for his parents. Patrick was the anti-thug. He was a good kid.
“The problem was that Patrick tiptoed along the line of good decisions versus bad decisions until he inevitably crossed it. We say ‘inevitably’ because you can’t walk a tight rope forever; eventually you will fall. And fall he did. It started small, his dad said.
“It started with easy-to-find and alarmingly acceptable marijuana. We don’t know what the attraction was for him. Maybe it was acceptance into a crowd. Maybe it was an escape from some secret pain that even his closest friends didn’t know about. Maybe he just had that personality where a little bit was never enough.
It took him hard
“We don’t know. All we know is that when it took, it took him hard, and he was soon moving on from marijuana into stronger drugs. Every time, it was a little more dangerous.
“Patrick’s parents were aware and on top of his problem. They spared no expense, they pulled no punches, and they did not hide behind social graces. We spoke to his mother at a drug awareness and prevention seminar. His father searched for help from those of us who had been there. They encouraged their son, told him they just wanted their boy back, and would move the heavens to make it happen. No holds barred. He was their son.
“Patrick tried, too. He went to rehab; he involved himself in positive activities, and stayed close to the family. But then the drugs would call to him and, inevitably, he would answer.
“After returning from a more than two-month stint in rehabilitation, Patrick found a place where opiates were available, and he was defenseless against the lure. He overdosed. His life left him. And we, as fathers, almost immediately sensed that the world was less because someone’s beloved son was lost. And we, as fathers, wept.”
Patrick’s death was not a new story to me. My first grandchild, who was permanently damaged in a drug fueled automobile accident in Pennsylvania was the event that prompted me to found a new non-profit company dedicated to promoting recovery from substance abuse shining a spotlight on the drugs that were infiltrating our communities and were bought and sold in high school hallways and classrooms.
After more than12 years of addressing the problem through a quarterly newspaper and today through a website, social media and a podcast, I am more convinced than ever that we have to tackle the problem neighborhood by neighborhood, community by community.
And our first question to the suffering addict is “do you want to get well?” The second question would be, “what does recovery look like to you. If I were to snap my fingers and make you well again, what would that look like?”
Just before I sobered up nearly 40 years ago, recovery didn’t seem possible. How could I face life without my Jim Beam and tranquilizers?
The answer my new sponsor gave me was “one day at a time.”
So far, so good.
Six years ago I was diagnosed with colon cancer and had half my lower intestine removed. My future was by no means assured, but I took it one day at a time, and as I look back, there was much to be thankful for.
Early this week I left the office of Dr. Maryann Harrington at the new CARTI building (stands for Central Arkansas Radiation Therapy institute)
with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. Still no sign that the cancer had returned.
As I reflected on my good fortune it occurred to me that addiction and cancer have a lot in common. They are disabling, potentially costly and often difficult to treat. Also, wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, if individual communities had the equivalent of CARTI, a 501 (c) 3 non-profit organization addressing the cancer problem and supported by local donors.
The fact is, we have ODAT (One day at a time) a 501 (c) 3 company which has been promoting addiction recovery since 2004. We also have a plan specifically for Little Rock in place to help addicts and their families. You can find it on our website.
Unlike cancer, there is a segment of the world’s population that is dedicated to promoting addiction. We call them drug dealers, and they have infiltrated our communities to the point of selling drugs in school classrooms. And on-line.
They cannot be stopped except by putting them out of business by a lack of demand in the streets and neighborhoods of every community.
There are close to 1,000 communities in the United States with populations of 10,000 or more and the odds are that some are thinking along similar lines and developing programs similar to what we are proposing.
As we proceed with our own plans for responding to the growing threat of expanding drug abuse led today by the current opioid epidemic, we hope others will share with us, their experience, strength and hope.
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