Gratitude
T had been years since he had visited his family in Philadelphia. He had
been in touch with some of his brothers and sisters over the phone from time to
time, But, he found that he had just drifted away from what had never been a
close family as far as he was concerned.
At thirty-five years of age, Joey Williams found himself living alone in a small, dirty apartment in the Hell�s Kitchen neighborhood on the Westside of Manhattan. His girlfriend, Patti, had left him a few weeks back. She said that his drinking was killing him, and that it was the drinking that was pushing her away. Joey had himself a drink as she walked out the door. He needed it.
He remembered calling his sister, Nancy once, when he had gotten himself arrested for drunk driving. She listened patiently to him as he explained his circumstances from the jail phone�his one call. She wired him the bail money the next morning. He had called another sister awhile back asking her for money to get him out of a tight jam he had gotten himself into. The money was sent without a note.
As he sat in his apartment, drinking a glass of whiskey, he drifted back through his memory to his family and what it was like growing up. Poverty sometimes pulls families together, and other families, it pulls apart. His family disappeared in different directions as soon as they were old enough to get out of the housing project they were stuck in. Yet, he was the only one to leave Philadelphia for good. The idea of driving down to see them, came to him like most ideas came to him�through the suggestions of drink. He had called his mother earlier that day and told her he would probably drive down to see everyone. She asked him to please not drink. It was Christmas Eve, and outside his apartment window carolers sang a song of wonder. He wasn�t drunk yet, which was good. He promised himself he would never get behind the wheel ever again drunk. He first went to the bank and withdrew money. He walked over towards Broadway and found a department store where he was able to buy gifts for his three brothers, two sisters, and mother. It made him feel good in a way he had long forgotten. He walked back up towards his apartment and placed the gifts in the trunk of his car, which was parked outside his building. It was six in the evening. It was already dark, and the feel of snow was in the air. As he pulled the car out and drove towards the Lincoln Tunnel, he knew he would be in Philadelphia in three hours. He felt a long forgotten fear move through him. He knew it was about going to see his family after not seeing them for such a long period of time. Of course everyone would be different, some now married with kids, others with important jobs, but in a strange way�all would be the same. Coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel he had a moment where he thought about turning around and going home. Actually, going to his neighborhood bar and getting drunk, but he kept driving, picking up the Jersey Turnpike, getting closer to his past.
As he drove south he switched on the radio and listened to the Christmas carols. As a drunk, he loved anything sad. The sadder the better, that�s what being drunk was all about. He reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out a pint of whiskey. He drew two quick hits and then placed the bottle back in the compartment. He felt the warmth of the whiskey move through him like courage.
The industrial fires of Elizabeth, New Jersey moved past him like ancient icons. In a way he was going back to Bethlehem, going back to his beginning. As the turnpike carried him forward, and the whiskey settled in, he thought about Patti, his ex. He could almost look over and see her sitting there in the other seat, smiling, smoking her cigarettes, and complaining about nothing and everything. He loved her, he knew that�he just couldn�t show it.
The first Christmas tree, as a child. He could see it now. Small and barren, where were the gifts? And the song said: Oh come all ye faithful�
He watched the Christmas tree lights from the houses in Trenton move by him. He reached in again and drank the whiskey. He knew this whiskey, he was faithful to the whiskey. More Christmas songs filled the car. �Have yourself a merry� I�m dreaming of a White��he remembers an old guy in a bar say how all the great Christmas songs were written during the Second World War. That the most tender melodies were longing for the boys over there.
He could see the lights to the Ben Franklin Bridge leading into Philadelphia. He felt his childhood move towards him like the light snow hitting the window. Small memories, becoming overwhelming. He would be at his sister�s house in twenty minutes where his mother now lived. His father, dead for decades seemed to suddenly be everywhere. He took another drink of the whiskey and was proud of how he had controlled himself. He had not lost his sense of right. He would not embarrass himself with his family.
When he pulled in front of his sister�s house, he turned the car off and sat there for a few minutes. He studied the small row homes and saw his childhood in every window. In every window, he saw joy, in every window he saw love, as he moved towards Bethlehem�he felt alright.
He climbed the steps to Claire�s house and knocked. He could hear voices, and footsteps. He was neither sober nor drunk. He was where he wanted to be.
When the door opened his older brother John was standing there.
�Come on in, Joey, we�ve been expecting you.�
When he entered the house, he found his entire family there. This was wonderful he thought to himself. This was family.
�Sit down, Joey,� his sister Nancy said. �We have something to talk to you about.�
Joey stood in the middle of the room, the snow hitting the windows, the city of Bethlehem smelling like whiskey.
�We have decided as a family to help you,� his sister continued. She came over to him and sat him down.
�You must do something about your drinking. It�s going to kill you if you don�t�
THOSE WORDS AGAIN, YES, OH LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM
�We have signed you into a thirty day detox down here. Everything has been taken care of�but you must want it.�
He heard the words, he sang the songs, the whiskey said no. How many people lately had told him about his drinking? Christmas Eve. He wasn�t even a believer! Was this his moment? Was this his time?
He found himself surrounded by people who loved him, driving towards a destination. A hospital, on Christmas Eve. He didn�t even argue, he had for years with so many people, but he was tired of his own life, and he was glad for the rest.
For the change about to come. He could still taste the whiskey in his mouth. He was still?
HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY MERRY CHRISTMAS
It didn�t take long. In a half an hour he found himself saying good by to his family. How could he be saying good by? He hadn�t said hello for so many years. He was led into a private room, where he changed into a robe. The clock on the dresser said 11:45 PM Christmas Eve. He lay back on the bed, closed his eyes and felt the clean sheets. He opened his eyes, and gazed out a window. There was one star in the snowy sky. He remembered at that moment that he had not given his family their presents, that they were still in the trunk of his car. They really weren�t wonderful gifts, not like theirs�
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE, HE COULD SEE IT NOW. WHERE WERE THE GIFTS? OH LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM, I GO TO SLEEP WITH WHISKEY ON MY BREATH.
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