Absolutely Richard

My story began on January 27, 1938, a cold snowy day in Syracuse, New York. My first remembrance of alcohol was my father coming home at eight every morning after working all night in the steel mill to put food on our table and a roof over our heads. He'd reach up to the cupboard, take down his bottle of Seagram's, and pour himself a strong one. Then he'd look down at me and say, "This is Daddy's medicine. This makes Daddy feel good." Both he and my mother drank every day, and I got the notion at an early age that alcohol helped whatever ailed you.