Saw this on Instagram and copied it. Now to send it to my children so they can repost it every Father’s Day until my giant ego and I die, at which point we’ll no longer give a shit. That’s a photo of Robin Olds, by the way, one of the all-time archetypal fighter pilots.
Speaking of Father’s Day, mine was jim-dandy. Our son Gregory sent me a die-cast model of a Honda Goldwing, an exact match of the one I ride, right down to the color. I placed it prominently on my toy shelf in the home office. Our daughter Polly remembered to wish me a happy Father’s Day, which was both pleasant and unexpected (no snark … I was sincerely touched).
I was allowed to spend a little money on Amazon, where I ordered a new wood bead seat cover for the truck. It came the very next day and is already installed (the old one’s on my home office chair, presently being sat upon). Donna, who never stops reminding me how much she hates smoked meats, let me set up the Weber and smoke a turkey breast and a pack of weisswurst over mesquite. I thought it turned out great, and Donna did a convincing job of pretending to enjoy her dinner (okay, now I’m snarking, but just a little).
We topped off Father’s Day by watching Three Days of the Condor on streaming TV, then, once it was dark and somewhat cooler, driving to the corner Dairy Queen. We took the doggies and shared the small ends of our single-scoop cones with them. A great day all around.
A few days ago I wrote about Trump’s proposed paint schemes for new Air Force One aircraft. I’m a docent at Pima Air and Space Museum, where we have a former Air Force One painted in the blue & white livery introduced by the Kennedys in 1962. I always stop in front of that plane and tell the story of how Jack, Jackie, and designer Raymond Loewy came up with the design, but lately, in light of the news, I feel obliged to mention that a new design is on the way.
Yesterday, I realized what a minefield this topic is. A visitor sitting behind me in the tram started peppering me with questions, and it quickly became clear he was trying to trap me into saying something about Trump … whether positive or negative I can’t say. Either way, he wanted to stir up trouble. And either way, it’s a road I can’t go down with visitors.
Until now, I’ve been able to avoid saying Trump’s name in front of museum visitors. The closest I ever come is when I say the “current president” flies on Marine Corps helicopters. But it seems impossible to talk about a new paint scheme for Air Force One aircraft without mentioning the name of the only person who’s pushing the idea.
How to talk about anything Trump-related without offending someone? I’m not sure it’s even possible. Maybe I’ll just play it safe and leave the entire subject alone.
I saw this on Twitter yesterday, the start of a thread posted by Kyle Kashuv, a survivor of the February 2018 mass shooting at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. I don’t know if his survivor status played a role in getting him a slot at Harvard, but never mind, the college withdrew his acceptance after learning of racist and anti-Semitic comments Kyle posted to social media two years ago, a few months before the shooting.
Several young Parkland survivors have been in the news, most speaking out as impassioned advocates of gun control. Kyle is a conservative pro-gun exception with a large right-wing following, but that doesn’t appear to be the reason Harvard withdrew his acceptance. You can read some of the posts Harvard objected to here … I’m not going to quote them because they’re too offensive even for me.
Long story short, Kyle says he’s grown in the two years since he posted that shit. He was 16 then; he’s 18 now. In his thread, he explains how his views have changed and matured over the past two years, and asks if Harvard believes people can change, as he has … but just as you begin to feel some sympathy for him, he throws this turd in the punchbowl:
Throughout its history, Harvard’s faculty has included slave owners, segregationists, bigots and antisemites. If Harvard is suggesting that growth isn’t possible and that our past defines our future, then Harvard is an inherently racist institution.
I don’t know how you react to that, but my reaction was instant and strong: he blew it right then and there. Kyle’s not sincere. He’s not being honest. His views haven’t changed. I wouldn’t want him going to school with my grandchildren. Or yours.
Did you have a moral compass when you were 16? Most of us did. I was a right asshole in many ways, but I knew racism and anti-Semitism was wrong and I never would have said the kinds of things Kyle said … not merely said but shouted out to the whole world. I grew up around kids who said shit like that. I didn’t hang with them, but they were there, the deplorables of the 1960s. Not one of them was college material, let alone Harvard.
Nope. Sorry, Kyle. Tell you what, though, it might not be too late to apply for a scholarship at one of those evangelical institutions down South. Or you can skip higher education entirely and become a Fox News anchorperson.
Speaking of Twitter, one of the people I follow there is an alt-media personality named Xeni Jardin, long associated with the website Boing Boing and an occasional guest on cable news, where she talks about social media and tech. Here’s something she posted that caught my eye:
The New York Times piece she linked to is here, or you can click on the graphic above to link to it. I realize very few of you subscribe to the NYT and can read the entire article. I can’t afford a subscription myself, and could only read the first paragraph before hitting a paywall. A friend who subscribes sent me a text extract* of the article, and after reading it I’m down with Xeni’s take: “This article does for alcoholism what Gwyneth Paltrow does for cancer wellness.”
My friend, the one who sent the text of the NYT article, is a moderate drinker, very much in control of himself. He knows I no longer drink and wanted to know what I thought after reading the article. I’ll share with you what I wrote in reply:
I’ve been following reaction to the article on Twitter since early this morning. One of the more interesting comment threads was started by Xeni Jardin. She’s a recovering alcoholic who still goes to AA meetings. Many of the people who responded to her are likewise AA, but not all. There are other ways to quit and people who’ve taken those roads are represented in the thread too. You can read the thread if you want (and in any case, Xeni is a good follow).
My own comment to Xeni, posted a few moments ago: “Yes. If you drink, you drink. AA wasn’t part of my journey, but knowing I must not have even one drink was & is. People who know they need to quit will seize on this article as an excuse not to.”
Some folks can get away with light drinking and never fall into heavy drinking. Seems to me you & your wife fall into that category, and I admire you for that. Twelve-plus years back I had to face two facts about myself: I wasn’t in control of my drinking, and I needed to quit totally. Drinking less was not an option. It turned out I had the willpower to quit on my own, and I thank my lucky stars for that. Most people need support, which they get through programs like AA.
We both know lots of people who’ll look you in the eye and maintain they’re in control. They tell us if we could see them in their regular lives, when they’re not actively drinking like they are at the moment (which coincidentally is every fucking time we see them), we’d know they never touch the stuff. Well, we both know they’re lying. They know it too.
Lots of people will seize upon this article as an excuse to put off doing what they know they must do. They’ll go to one of those alcohol-free nights at a bar and convince themselves they’ve turned over a new leaf and are now “mindful drinkers,” like the photoshopped young drunks they used to illustrate this pernicious piece.
I keep coming back to what Xeni and I and most of the people on Twitter are saying … it ain’t quitting if you don’t quit.
*The full text of the NYT article, minus graphics and ads, is below the fold if you want to read it.
by Alex Williams, June 15, 2019:
We all know what sobriety used to be: sober, in all meanings of the word.
It was a seltzer with lime instead of Bordeaux with a Michelin-starred meal; a trip to the gym on Friday evenings while everyone else hit happy hour. For those with a serious alcohol problem, it was a worthy decision, maybe even a lifesaving one. It could even be fun, when it wasn’t all amends and affirmations. But it had an air of privacy and quiet.
Well, my friend, this has changed. It seems not even sobriety will be saved from enjoying a made-for-Instagram moment, with new hashtaggable terms like “mindful drinking” and “sober curious.” No longer do you have to feel left out or uncool for being sober. You maybe don’t even have to completely stop drinking alcoholic beverages?
This is according to a new generation of kinda-sorta temporary temperance crusaders, whose attitudes toward the hooch is somewhere between Carrie Nation’s and Carrie Bradshaw’s. To them, sobriety is something less (and more) than a practice relevant only to clinically determined alcohol abusers. Now it can also just be something cool and healthful to try, like going vegan, or taking an Iyengar yoga class.
Anonymous? Hardly. No longer is the topic of sobriety confined to discreet meetings in church halls over Styrofoam cups of lukewarm Maxwell House. For these New Abstainers, sobriety is a thing to be, yes, toasted over $15 artisanal mocktails at alcohol-free nights at chic bars around the country, or at “sober-curious” yoga retreats, or early-morning dance parties for those with no need to sleep off the previous night’s bender.
The ‘Gray Area’
The simple act of waving off wine at a dinner party used to be interpreted as a tacit signal that you were in recovery, “on the wagon,” unless you were visibly pregnant or had known religious objections.
That was fine if you identified as an alcoholic. But what about people like Ruby Warrington, 43, a British style journalist in New York who spent her early career quaffing gratis cocktails at industry events, only to regret the groggy mornings, stumbles and embarrassing texts that have long been considered part of the bargain with so-called normal drinking?
These gatherings featured panels on topics like “Sex, Lies, and Alcohol,” as well as New Age icebreaker activities like “deep-eye gazing” and Kundalini disco.
“It just felt to me like there was a huge gray area, and a much wider acknowledgment now of the different categories of problem drinking,” Ms Warrington said.
She wrote a book called “Sober Curious” that was published in 2018, started a podcast and has staged subsequent Sober Curious events for what she calls the “Soho House crowd” at places like the Kripalu wellness retreat in Massachusetts, where participants also engage in heart-baring, 12-step-style testimonials.
Their fellow travelers band together at early-morning sober Daybreaker raves, held in 25 cities around the country.
Then there are the more than 18,000 Facebook followers of a nonprofit called Sober Movement, which promotes sobriety “as a lifestyle,” who post smiling pictures of themselves cartwheeling in the surf, or rocking ripped, beer-binge-free abs, appended with hashtags like #soberissexy, #partysober and #endthestigma.
Online, sobriety has become “the new black,” asserts a recovery site called, yes, Hip Sobriety.
The old idea that going dry is pretty dry would mean little to the 39,000 Instagram followers who feast on golden-hour beach shots from adventure travel retreats for sober or sober-curious “big life enthusiast” women in, say, Baja organized by The Sober Glow, a sobriety site run by Mia Mancuso, an accountability coach for women who consider themselves “gray area drinkers.”
Some not willing to eschew liquor completely are trying what Rosamund Dean, Ms. Warrington’s compatriot, called “Mindful Drinking” in a 2017 book: a half-measure approach to sobriety where you drink less, perhaps think about it more.
“People invest so much of their identity in their lifestyle choices, and it’s the same with drinking,” Ms. Dean wrote in an email. “Everyone is either a wine-guzzling party animal or a clean-living health freak. Personally, I believe the middle ground is the healthiest place to be.”
It started five years ago as a dare: go a month without drinking (a concept that has flourished in Britain and beyond, with Dry January). “As someone who doesn’t really go on diets and cleanses, I didn’t go into this challenge with the best attitude,” said Lorelei Bandrovschi, 32, an erstwhile branding consultant in Brooklyn. “I was like, ‘rules, no! Restrictions, no!”
A half-decade later, that challenge has become a second career. Ms. Bandrovschi runs Listen Bar, an alcohol-free bar open one night a month downstairs at Von, a bar on Bleecker Street in Manhattan. It’s not that she is sober, exactly. “I do drink, but I also mostly don’t drink,” she said.
“’Buzz’ is an interesting word, because we have so much buzz and hype from people being excited,” Ms. Bandrovschi said. Anyway, Listen Bar tries to compensate for liquor-fueled abandon with activities like dominatrix lessons ($15) and a spinning “daredevil wheel” that prompts attendees to get out of their comfort zone by, say, trying a high-fashion catwalk around the room.
On a recent night, the crowd skewed young and female, and the general vibe recalled an office holiday party, minus any leers from sloppy Sam in accounting.
“In this case,” she said, “it’s something new that everybody is doing for the first time, and they’re kind of like, we’re all in this together, so let’s talk to each other and get to know each other: ‘Why are you here?’”
In Austin, Tex., a substance abuse counselor named Chris Marshall operates an event called Sans Bar, featuring sober glow-in-the-dark disco, karaoke and ’90s-rock singalongs. Mr. Marshall, 36, began a national nine-city Sans Bar tour this past January and plans to expand.
While he stopped drinking more than a decade ago with the traditional 12-step approach, of which he remains an advocate, Mr. Marshall welcomes alternatives like Smart Recovery, SheRecoversand Tempest, available to people who, he said, “sit in meetings hearing words like ‘powerless’ and ‘defects’ and cannot identify with that.”
(A spokeswoman for Alcoholics Anonymous wrote in an email, “A.A. doesn’t have any comment on other methods for getting sober. There are lots of different options for getting sober. A.A. is not trying to convince anyone that A.A. is the only way to stay sober, we have just found a way that works for us that we share with others.”)
“When I got sober in 2007, there were two options: alcoholic or not,” Mr. Marshall said. “There wasn’t Instagram or Facebook, and meetings were the only space for people to frankly discuss unhealthy drinking.
“Perhaps if I had today’s options floating around my Myspace page,” he added, “I may have stopped drinking before things progressed to massive anxiety, broken relationships and physical dependence.”
Dry Gets Juicy
And while we’re talking about today’s options. …
It starts with a tingle of citrus, with notes of hibiscus and orange peel, then swells with a hint of syrupy bitterness, which, along with its blood-red color, calls to mind a negroni.
In place of the familiar ethanol kick, though, High Rhode, the creation of a New York distiller called Kin, delivers licorice, gentian root and caffeine, along with Goop-ish additions like “nootropics” and “adaptogens” and a priceless mixture of sensuality and virtue.
“We weren’t interested in making another bubbly water or a flavored ‘mockery,’ just as we weren’t interested in drinking them at our favorite bars,” said Jen Batchelor, 34, the founder of Kin, issuing a subtle dig at the reviled term “mocktail.” “We wanted to feel more, not less — to wake up fresh and ready to take on the day, in full consciousness, clarity, peace of mind.”
She calls her spirits “euphorics,” and, in a sense, High Rhode is to liquor what CBD is to marijuana: a buzz-free buzz, vaguely akin to a CBD “body high.” (Imagine dropping an Advil with a mug of green tea in a warm bath.)
Ms. Batchelor enjoys wine with a meal maybe once a month. “I’m pretty resolute in my decision to consume with intention, or not at all,” she said. But she is well cast to sell the idea of sobriety chic. An Ayurvedic herbologist and entrepreneur, Ms. Batchelor grew up in Saudi Arabia, where her father was a bootlegger who made his own sidiki (basically Gulf-style bathtub gin).
She recently opened Kin House, an invitation-only sober destination in a West Hollywood bungalow, as well as a speakeasy-style tasting room in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, inspiring Vogue to call her “the poster girl for L.A.’s zero-proof party scene.”
These creators want to shatter the perception that alcohol-free booze alternatives are, by definition, “penalty-box in nature,” said Bill Shufelt, a founder of Athletic Brewing, in Stratford, Conn.
Started last year with a mission to create a nonalcoholic beer that would pass muster with actual beer snobs, Athletic features a head brewer and co-founder, John Walker, who won awards during his time with Second Street Brewing, a highly regarded craft-beer brand in Santa Fe.
Mr. Shufelt said that three-quarters of Athletic’s customers are not sober, but rather belong to “a demographic we theorized was latent”: light drinkers like athletes and harried parents who cannot spare the energy for hangovers.
With beer sales sliding for five straight years, according to the Beverage Information Group, global beer brands are exploring alcohol-free as a potential growth area. This past winter Heineken unveiled 0.0, with a Now You Can advertising campaign showing responsible adults enjoying its no-buzz brews in work meetings, or even while sitting behind the wheel.
And sober foodies need no longer feel left out for ordering a Diet Coke at critically lauded restaurants. Patrons at Cote, Daniel and French Laundry can now order nonalcoholic substitutes for a negroni or a dark-and-stormy from Curious Elixirs, a new line of individually bottled alcohol-free craft cocktails. They are also available at nightclubs like House of Yes and Avant Gardner in Brooklyn (tagline: “shaken, not slurred”).
“I’ve spent a lot of time in a lot of gin joints and been lucky enough to help start a few of them,” said John Wiseman, a veteran of New York night life who started Curious in 2016. “But it got to be that I was just drinking too damn much. So I cut back on booze dramatically and started tinkering in the kitchen.”
His Curious No. 3 blend is inspired by classic cocktails like the Bee’s Knees and the Cucumber Collins, but substitutes ashwaganda, the trendy plant-based Ayurvedic supposed stress reliever, for vodka or gin, along with mocktail staples like lemon or cucumber juice.
For those who want something even closer to gin, Seedlip, an alcohol-free distiller located on a farm in North Lincolnshire, England, is offering Spice 94, a clear liquid blend that contains botanicals like Jamaican allspice berry, cardamom and citrus peel (although no juniper). It can be mixed with ginger ale or used as the core ingredient of a counterintuitive-seeming concoction: the virgin martini.
After all, James Bond never had to worry about likes. And in a virtue-signaling culture, perhaps more status can be accrued advertising a gin-free martini than one made with Grey Goose.
Indeed, one of the less questionable aspects of a wellness movement in which everything is either “clean” or “toxic,” with acolytes dutifully sprinkling activated charcoal into their kefir and throwing celery into the extractor, is the conviction that introducing a certifiable poison into one’s bodily temple may be suspect.
Gin Is a Gendered Issue
At a politically fraught time, clarity of the mind is a potent weapon, and the #MeToo movement has also helped give abstinence from alcohol an extra kick.
We’ve come a long way from the early 2000s, when bawdy women of “Sex and the City” swilled rose-colored cosmopolitans as a symbol of female emancipation — at last, the girls could party just as hard as the boys.
But these days, many women are citing sobriety as a pillar of their feminism.
“The longer I am sober, the less patience I have with being a 24-hour woman — the stranger who tells me to smile. The janitor who stares at my legs. The men on TV who want to annex my uterus,” the author Kristi Coulter wrote in a 2016 essay published on Medium.
“I start to get angry at women, too,” she added. “Not for being born wrong, or for failing to dismantle a thousand years of patriarchy on my personal timetable. But for being so easily mollified by a bottle. For thinking that the right to get as trashed as a man means anything but the right to be as useless.”
Beyond the health risks, the booze that flows freely at fraternity parties or holiday mixers has started to look to some women like a tool of oppression in the age of radical consent. (“Can drunk sex ever be consensual?” a recent CBS News article asked.)
Students of history will note that women, like Carrie Nation, who famously smashed up taverns with a hatchet, led the temperance movement of the 19th century, which eventually set the stage for Prohibition in the 1920s.
“Historically, women have been taught they can’t express anger; we’ve been taught to internalize anger, pain, shame, because anger in a women has equated to crazy, has equated to being unlikable and undesirable,” said Erin Khar, whose sobriety memoir involving heroin, “Strung Out: One Last Hit and Other Lies That Nearly Killed Me,” will be published next year.
Ms. Khar has taken issue with the #MommyJuice memes that have proliferated on social media with harried women juggling the pressure of careers and family looking for salvation in goblets of chardonnay.
To her there is nothing funny about the idea that booze is somehow necessary to get through life, or one’s due. “What the #MeToo movement has done is created an opening for women to speak the truth — whatever that truth is,” she said. “And I see more women being vocal about alcohol and substance-use issues.”
“For 6,000 years the choice has been ‘water or wine’ — figuratively of course, we’ve fermented every living plant on earth and still we net out at ethanol,” she wrote. “Now there’s a third choice.”
© 2019, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.