By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Jul 7, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
Kudos to Laura Ungar of the Courier-Journal for her clear-eyed, bold and much needed investigative piece on Suboxone. It isn’t critical as much as asks (and attempts to answer) sobering questions after the much heralded anti-addiction drug has now had time to demonstrate if it has been as effective as it’s early champions heralded it would be.
Four years ago, I agreed to disagree with several doctors –in a discussion that turned contentious at times– that Suboxone, alone, was all many addicts needed to overcome their drug addiction.
The doctors, well-meaning but short sighted, in my view, insisted on the above position and dismissed my skepticism because I wasn’t a trained medical expert.
That is a tough position to be in if you are trying to convince someone of your opinion who is a “trained medical expert.” So I backed away without backing down entirely.
I don’t have medical training and they each did. They knew and cited studies and treatment outcome data. All I had is that in my experience people, including doctors, who felt supremely confident in themselves in successfully treating the deeply mysterious and heart wrenching disease of addiction, eventually had their over-confidence displaced by humility.
I wish that weren’t the case and that there were a kind of “magic pill” to fix an addiction to other kinds of “magic pills.” But it’s not that easy. As I said then, and still believe, some medications may serve the equivalent role of “water wings” to someone trying to beat addiction–help them float while they are trying to learn to swim. But water wings, by themselves, are only a tool, and a limited one at that. Especially if you are trying to learn to swim and they are the only thing between you and drowning.
By John Y. Brown III, on Sun Jul 6, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
Sunday morning.
Eight thirty in the A.M.
A blonde dame, my wife Rebecca, was in the other room.
She was trouble but knew what she wanted –even if she didn’t know why. I was attracted to trouble, especially trouble named Rebecca. I didn’t know what I wanted—but at least I knew why (thanks to a good therapist who cost me some serious cabbage).
We each had a cup of Joe –mine with sugar and cream; hers with Splenda and skim milk.
Like I said, it was Sunday.
And Sundays can be boring.
So I tried to fancy it up with film noir dialogue. Dialogue that was edgy hut as plain and as cheap as a two day old vanilla scone from a coffee shop you’ve never heard of –and will never go back to (after eating the two day old vanilla scone).
I didn’t create this problem of facing long Sundays with no plans. But I was going to have to solve it.
It’s what I do.
I don’t know why it’s what I do. But I do know why I don’t know why. (See above about having a good therapist.)
It wasn’t the beginning of a beautiful friendship. It was the middle of a beautiful marriage. That line may not be as catchy as the one from Casablanca, but it’s more than Bogie and Ingrid Bergman ever had. And it’s in color, see?
Maybe the middle of beautiful marriages isn’t supposed to make you think of film noir—of dark alleyways, danger and surprise lurking, guns with fingers twitching and bad dialogue around ever corner. I guess they are more like a relaxing Sunday morning. But still with a cup of Joe. And preferably fresh scones, from the coffee shop you know always go to.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Jul 4, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
The image that I think best signifies Independence Day for our country isn’t bright colors waving gloriously in the wind or even extravagent fireworks exploding across the sky.
I think the most fitting image is a small but determined flickering flame that burns quietly through the day and night in each of us. That spark. That inclination. That dedication. That incontrovertible belief at our core that each of us is endowed by our Creator with cerain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
The spark that ignited a revolution to free ourselves, not the world, so that we might enjoy the fruits of living freely, if we could remember how to preserve it for ourselves.
Independence Day, for me anyway, is about honoring and fanning that giant little flame in each of us that animates our daily lives and defines the country we are blessed to call home.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Jul 2, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
Today I learned that if you wake up from a dream in which you drank down 3 full glasses of water and 3 bottles of water and were looking for another cup of water to guzzle when you awoke, chances are high that when you wake up you will discover that you feel thirsty.
And it is likely you will get out of bed and stumble sleepily into the kitchen and quickly drink one and a half glasses of water and half a glass of lemonade. And then go back to bed and turn off the light.
Turn on the light again after 2 minutes. Stumble back into the kitchen and drink down another half a cup of really cold ice water. Then post about the experience on Facebook. And calculate that in the past 20 minutes you have drank a total of 8 and a half glasses of liquids, real and imaginary. You then make a mental note to yourself that it isn’t as difficult as you had thought to drink 8 glasses of water a day, as everyone seems to recommend — although admittedly 6 of your glasses of water were drunk during a dream and shouldn’t really count.
You will then get back in bed and turn out the light.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Jun 27, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
I am all for ease and comfort. I am a fan of both, in fact.
But an irtitating feature in new cars is that every time the driver plops into the driver seat, the seat begins moving automatically to “self adjust” into just the right position for the driver.
The entire experience starts and ends in about 4 seconds and is supposed to be some sort of luxury addition. But it scares me every time I get in my car and I then wait impatiently as I am manuevered electronicly back and for…th until I am delievered into, what my car believes, is my “optimum seated position.”
First, I feel like I am not going to be doing a lot of different tasks other than driving while seated in my car so there really isn’t a need for multiple position options. I’m not going to sun bath or take an eye exam or anything like that in my car. The only time I need to reposition my seat is when I have dropped something under it and can’t reach it. And no need really to move the seat then. I have been squating beside the driver seat and sticking my arm under it to successfully find things for 35 years without a complaint.
Which leads me to the real reason I think I resent this new “automatic self- adjusting” driver seats. I fear they are manufactured by the same company that makes those stair case
seat lifts. And that my car seat is just a starter version.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Jun 26, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
So let me tell you about what I’ve been reading lately –not!
If you frequently drive around clients in your car, you have to be careful not to leave every self-help book you happen to be reading in plain sight in the back seat.
Clients sitting in the back seat will notice them even if you tell yourself “Oh, they probably didn’t see that.”
And they will either make an unflattering assumption about you or ask to borrow the book from you. Neither of which is desireable.
It is much better if I client finds out about the self-help books you are reading by you posting pictures of them on Facebook. That way they won’t ask to borrow them. And if they make a snarky remark to you about what you are reading, you can tease them about still being on Facebook at their age. (Of course, they might find that comeback from you ironic and buy you a few more self-help books.)
And if all else fails you can tell them you bought the books to help you learn better how to cope with them. That is a good line for saving face–and losing clients.
It just makes better business sense to talk about the weather.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Jun 25, 2014 at 12:00 PM ET
Comforting thoughts…
Friends are great.
A few years ago I began griping about aging causing my memory to fade. But when I was sharing this concern with a good friend who has known me for many years, he wasn’t terribly sympathetic.
Finally, after about the third time I was whining to him about my memory loss, he chimed in abruptly –but constructively–“You know, John, you were never all that smart to begin with. I think part of the problem is you are imagining that you had a much better memory than you really did. I can’t tell any difference in you at all.”
But I am smarter than he gives me credit for. I don’t ever complain to him anymore about memory problems. I only complain to other people who haven’t known me for very long.
Kudos to Laura Ungar of the Courier-Journal for her clear-eyed, bold and much needed investigative piece on Suboxone. It isn’t critical as much as asks (and attempts to answer) sobering questions after the much heralded anti-addiction drug has now had time to demonstrate if it has been as effective as it’s early champions heralded it would be.
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