Day 41. Failed

Way before Nancy Reagan started thinking about helping students with her "Just Say No" initiative, health departments had been trying to discourage us from trying drugs. 

Sixth grade at Lincoln Elementary School Mrs. Neubauer began the health unit on

drug use. Lessons included breaking into small groups and playing board games, creating pamphlets and reading short stories about the evils of using illegal drugs.

Every Friday we would go to the school library and sit in the meeting room along with the other two sixth grade classes and watch a movie that told about the evils of drug use.

One that stuck with me was a story about a girl that went to a party and was talked into trying LSD and then later went to buy a hot dog from a vendor. Shortly after getting the hot dog and applying catsup to the sides of it It began talking to her. It told her it had a family and pleaded not to be eaten. The talking hot dog that was shown in the video was a hot dog bun with a troll doll in it.

I'm not sure if they realize this, but that day didn't change my mind, in fact, it piqued my interest. I mean, talking hot dogs? That sounded so cool. I couldn't believe when I went looking for a photo for this blog that I actually found the film on YouTube.  If you click the picture above you'll be able to watch it. It not only brought back good memories, but it made me laugh.  

I was curious about how something so simple could make you act so goofy. Another video showed a girl who thought she could fly. The video was done so poorly that when the person jumped from the window they showed her twisting and turning and slowly floating to the ground. In the story she woke up in the hospital, parallelized from the fall. They never really high-lighted that the slow twirling and twisting was just a drug induced hallucination and the girl was really injured.

Somehow they managed to make taking drugs look like fun. 

I never tried, they were not for me, but the movie had nothing to do with it. I was just too smart to do drugs, and too worried that it would disappoint my dad.

Years later, in high school, I would have other opportunities. My brother, Mike had gotten me a job at Cliffords supper club on Howell, Diane, Cheryl and Margaret worked there as well. In fact, Mike was the one to get me hired and keep me employed. He looked out for me in all types of ways and made working at Cliffords so much better, just by having him there with me. He was liked by everyone, and I know why - you'll never meet a nicer, easy going soul than Mike. He worked there for many years, later as a bartender, which was a great position for him due to his outgoing personality.

(Cliffords was torn down when my kids were little, lot sat empty for quite a few years until recently when it was sold and a veterinarian hospital put in its place. Somehow I feel like that was poetic justice.) 

Mr. Stein was the owner and lived in the apartment attached to the bar. Stein was an angry, mean and smelly old man. He gave me the creeps, but paid my salary. He broke all sorts of laws, like requiring us to work until 2am even on school nights.

The schedule went like this, Thursday night was Bingo night - while the people upstairs played bingo, ate and drank, we were in the basement breading fish for the next night's Fish Fry. Sometimes we would get angry at Stein and take it out on future customers. Sweeping the floor and emptying the dust pan into the fish batter. No comments about being unsanitary, the grease (which was never cleaned, either) would have killed anything we dumped in the fish. We were just hoping someone would complain and he would get shut down. No such luck. I guess quitting never crossed our minds.

He didn't have a problem if we wanted a drink after work (yes - most of us were underage) as long as we stayed in the back room and didn't sit in the bar.

Friday was fish fry - we made a lot of money (mostly in tips) and worked our tails off. After the fish fry ended we would tear down the tables and reset for the Saturday wedding. We would leave at 2am and come back after lunch on Saturday, work catering and cleanup - weddings generally ended at 3am so we would go home after it. We would be back bright and early on Sunday to clean up after the wedding and make sure the place was clean for the start of the next week.

This was when I really started hating cigarettes in general. The smell of them floating in Pepsi has never left my mind and to this day I can't stand the smell of the soft drink.

We were a hard working crew, I'll have to admit that although I only made it there for a year, I was probably in the best shape I ever had been in. 

Anyway - after a long hard week many of the crew would go into one of the teams vans and 'relax'. By this time I knew what pot smelled like and I knew that's what was going on in the van. 

My brother was in the van with the rest of the crew. He invited me in because he knew I was curious. I waited my turn and when it came to me, Mike told me to inhale and hold the smoke in my lungs as long as I could.

I inhaled, and it burned. No one told me that would happen. I exhaled and passed the joint on. I watched everyone take their turn. When it came to me I waved it away. I could see Mike smile, secretly I think he set me up so that I would hate it (I did) and never try it again. Mike, turned out to be not only my brother, but my guardian angel.

I think that would have been much more effective. to tell people how much it hurt to smoke or do LSD or any other drug. Showing people at a party with music and psycedelic colors made if seem too appealing. 

Let's face it, drugs may make you think you feel better, but in reality, it makes you feel worse.

So, I never got to experience a talking hot dog, but I do have a penguin cookie that has been guarding my freezer for the past five years! Just can't eat that little smiling face. Every time I pick it up - I can hear it yelling at me to stop!