I was out at a local pub when a heavily intoxicated man approached me.

I was watching a football game on the T.V. The man was wearing a football team jersey that sported a familiar team. I referenced the team (not local) as one I supported. He couldn’t believe it. He turned to show me the jersey of a well-known player. He was impressed by my recognition of the name and the jersey number. The man had a southern accent. I inquired and he proudly stated where he was born and raised. Without much of a prompt, he told me that his father was born in that southern state and that’s where he met his wife.

She was visiting from New York State. They immediately, he continued, hit it off. She returned to her family soon after. They maintained contact until his father relocated to New York. They decided to relocate to that southern state. This man lived there for 20 years. He then relocated to New York. All the time he spoke, I got a charge out of his friendly nature. He spoke of the warm friendliness and acceptance of all in his home state. The more he spoke, the heavier his intoxicated breath began to bother me. Now I must say that I wasn’t alone at the pub. Some friends who loved football joined me at the pub. Several were sitting watching the game or involved in conversation.

The man changed gears. Just as he repeated his pronouncement and disbelief of some of my football historical knowledge, he shifted to reference “a very pretty girl” sitting at the bar. This was my friend’s adult daughter. She was visiting from out of town. I flatly stated to the intoxicated man that she was my daughter. He abruptly backed off with a display of apology and returned to his seat away from us. My friend and his daughter were silent during my football banter with the intoxicated man. My friend Xenos and his daughter, Darling, looked at me and were both momentarily mute.

Darling chimed in. “First of all, thanks for getting that obnoxious drunken man away from us. You know, he was hitting on me or at least trying. Guess I have two dads.”

I asked her if my position bothered her in any manner.

“Not that you said that I’m your daughter, more that I have guys hitting on me a lot. My dad, the real one here, and mom both taught me to respect others. I know how easy it can be to say something mean or unkind to a man who’s drunk.”

So, if I didn’t intervene and fib, what do you think you would have done?

“I try to find straight forward statements that clearly speak my position. I know there are exceptions, however, meeting someone who’s intoxicated in a bar is gross. I personally go to bars not to meet men. I like the music, the camaraderie with friends, and sports on T.V. I have women friends who have said awfully mean words to men trying to pick up on them.”

What does your father think about all of this?

“I’m not sure. Both my parents like sports. When we were young, say about six or seven, they’d meet our family and friends who enjoy sports at taverns. They would get snack food, maybe pizza, for us along with some drinks like soda or juice. We would sit with our friend’s children of the same age in the booth. Our folks would sit at the bar or walk about the bar. Eyes were glued to the T.V. No memory of problems upon us ever occurred. Enough people aided in the joy. No one ever smoked indoors, so we weren’t exposed to smoke. After the game, we’d go home. Sometimes we’d go sledding in a park if it had snowed. They bought hot chocolate that we would share to warm up. You see, maybe this was a time of innocence when I look back on my youth.”

So did your parents, as you might recall, ever discuss the fact that not all people who drink and get intoxicated in a bar are friendly?

“Mom once told a story that I’m not sure I was supposed to hear. I overheard her. Seems before she met dad, she told her women friends a story. They were in the restroom and freshening up. I was peeing. Mom said that one time when she was in college, she got invited to a fraternity open house party. I don’t remember her talking then about who she knew, you know, who invited her. Her voice, I do remember, got lower. Seems she was talking to some athlete, and he’d been drinking. There was alcohol at the party. The guy tried to put the make on mom. She at some point kneed the guy in the privates. That broke up the party. The police on the campus were called. She sat in the back seat of the police car. The man she kneed was angry and enraged. She actually used that word. He tried to press charges on my mom. Guess the campus policewoman who came with a police man gave my mom some good advice. Stay clear of frat parties and try not to hurt anyone. Her friends all laughed and could not believe mom’s courage. Mom wasn’t a big person. I never heard any more of the story after they left the restroom. I washed up and left the restroom, too. Nothing what-so-ever of words were exchanged later with mom. She really didn’t see me in the restroom. As I got older, we continued to go to taverns and bars to watch sports. I never saw any of our friends or family be confronted by anyone intoxicated and out of control. Not one of them ever got drunk.”

You have an amazing clear memory. Ever thought of bringing it up with your mom or dad?

“No.”

Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

Marshall Greenstein holds a master’s degree in marriage and family counseling and is a licensed marriage and family counselor and a licensed mental health counselor in New York state. He has regular office hours at 415 E. Sixth St., Jamestown, and can be reached at 484-7756. For more information or to suggest topics, email editorial@post-journal.com.