to a blonde little boy for Tim Oh, little tow-head! pedaling furiously blind to the edge of disaster leading off the porch into the concrete below. pedaling was the most thrilling experience of all. when did you forget that life is in the pedaling not in the concrete morass that causes scabbed knees and broken hearts? (c) 2010, T. Stewart
Tim died of a heart attack brought on by years of poisoning his body with alcohol. And by brutally punishing it on Friday evening by drinking 2 fifths of vodka. He was 41. He has a wife and a child. But he will forever be with us. Rest in peace, dear one.
Warning: this may sound disjointed but stick with me, it will connect. And there is some inappropriate language if you are dainty. Alcoholism thrives on secrecy. St. Ignatius had something to say about secrecy. 'Our enemy may also be compared in his manner of acting to a false lover. He seeks to remain hidden and does not want to be discovered... In the same way when the enemy of our human nature tempts a just soul with his wiles and seductions, he earnestly desires that they be received secretly and kept secret. But if one manifests them to a confessor, or to some other spiritual person who understands his deceits and malicious designs, the evil one is very much vexed. For he knows that he cannot succeed in his evil undertaking, once his evident deceits have been revealed.' This la