SURRENDER THAT'S ALL

ONCE again, I found myself sitting in a jail cell, facing a maximum six-month sentence for violating probation. Too many times I had been in a similar position. It was getting old quick. I had just received a letter from my wife saying she couldn't be with me any longer. She couldn't handle living this kind of life anymore: my drinking every night, her wondering if I would come home and what kind of mood I'd be in when I got there. Would I get caught drinking again and go to jail? Would I be smashed, breaking things, yelling and picking fights, because to me, life was unfair? Or would I be the fun-loving, annoying drunk who kept everyone up with loud music, to ease some of the guilt I felt for being at the bar all night and not spending time with my family?