From the September 2019 magazine.

Everything's going to be okay

One day on a beach, something lifted his hope and guided him out of the dark, drunken life

I grew up in a house with a high-functioning, highly successful but abusive alcoholic father and a nearly nonfunctioning, mentally ill mother. I took my first drink when I was 2 at a barbeque my father hosted. I wandered around finishing empty beer cans. I’m told that my father was enraged by this, but my mother laughed. 

When I was in grade school, my sister and I would take turns running to the kitchen in the evenings to refill my father’s whisky glass. This allowed me to net a couple of shots per night. 

-- Alan F.

Shoreline, Washington

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