Frank Advice From A Close Friend
There was, I can testify, a lot more drinking in Washington, D.C., before May 15, 1978. That was the date, through the grace of God, that I had my last drink of beer or booze or wine. Previously, I had given up drinking at different times, for Lent or to lose weight (a waist is a terrible thing to mind), always to return for another round. But what changed my ways — beyond a miserable hangover while playing hours of duck, duck, goose with a dozen happy kids at my daughter Amy’s sixth birthday party — was the eloquent example of my very close friend and favorite ex-drinking ...