upworthy

alcoholism

The Minnesota state photograph "Grace" by Eric Enstrom depicts traveling salesman Charles Wilden in Bovey, Minnesota.

One of the most popular pieces of 20th-century American art is a painting of an old devout man praying over a bowl of gruel and a loaf of bread in front of a Bible. The piece is called “Grace,” and it can be found in homes, churches, and even restaurants.

I clearly remember a copy hanging on the wall at my corner burger joint, Mack’s Burgers, in Torrance, California, in the ’80s. Sadly, it’s been torn down and is now a Jack in the Box. However ubiquitous the photo may be, a new video by pop culture YouTube user Austin McConnell shows that “Grace” isn’t really what it seems.

“Grace” was originally a photograph taken in 1918, during World War I, by Eric Enstrom, a Swedish American from Bovey, Minnesota. Enstrom was preparing some photographs to take with him to a convention when Charles Wilden, a salesman selling boot scrapers, came to his door, and he know he had to take his photo.

“There was something about the old gentleman’s face that immediately impressed me. I saw that he had a kind face… there weren’t any harsh lines in it,” Enstrom said. “I wanted to take a picture that would show people that even though they had to do without many things because of the war they still had much to be thankful for,” he added.

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“There was something about the old gentleman’s face that immediately impressed me. I saw that he had a kind face… there weren’t any harsh lines in it,” Enstrom said. “I wanted to take a picture that would show people that even though they had to do without many things because of the war they still had much to be thankful for,” he added.

Enstrom posed Wilden in front of a loaf of bread, a bowl—which may have been empty—and a large book that many assume to be the Bible. But, as McConnell notes, the book is far too large to be the good book, as most people assume. The Grand Forks Herald claims that a receipt for payment from Enstrom to Wilden reveals that the book is a dictionary.

The photograph went on to be a huge hit at the convention, and Enstrom began selling copies about town. After many requested copies of the photo in color, Enstrom’s daughter, Rhoda Nyberg, began hand-painting them in oils and added a streak of light on the left side of the painting. This is the version that people have come to love.



"The intent of the photo is fairly obvious,” McConnell says in the video. “Enstrom wanted an image that conveyed to people that even though they had to do without many provisions because of the ongoing war, there was still much to be thankful for. A picture that seemed to say 'this man doesn't have much of earthly goods, but he has more than most people because he has a thankful heart.'"

Enstrom convinced Wilden to sign over his rights for $5, which gave him the sole copyright. He then licensed the image to the Lutheran-affiliated Augsburg publishing house, which distributed the image across the country. According to McConnell “thousands and thousands” of copies of the photo were sold. The image entered the public domain in 1995.



Although not much is known about Wilden, it is believed that he lived a hard life. "He was living in a very primitive sod hut near Grand Rapids, eking out a very precarious living," retired history professor Don Boese told the Grand Forks Herald. It’s also likely that he wasn’t the devout man we imagine in the photo. "The stories about him centered more around drinking and not accomplishing very much,” Boese said.

So the painting was actually a photo. The Bible, a dictionary, and the subject was more likely to be the town drunk than a saint. But, in the end, does it matter? McConnell believes that its meaning rests in the eye of the beholder.

"If you found out today that everything you thought you knew about this iconic image was actually wrong, would you take it off your wall?” McConnell asks at the end of the video. “Or would you accept that the value in a piece of art isn't merely derived from the knowledge of how it was made? Or who made it?”

Come to think of it, the fact that the man in the painting is an alcoholic may make the painting even more profound. For a person who is down on their luck and may have turned their back on religion, having a moment to be grateful for the small things in life is a wonderful sentiment. It goes to show that anyone can turn their life around. When someone down on their luck is given a second chance, it's one of the most powerful examples of grace.

This article originally appeared three years ago.

Family

What to do when you're the child of an alcoholic

My dad was an addict, and growing up with him taught me a lot.

Photo with permission from writer Ashley Tieperman.

Ashley Tieperman and her father.


There was never just one moment in my family when we “found out" that my dad was an addict.

I think I always knew, but I never saw him actually drinking. Usually, he downed a fifth of vodka before he came home from work or hid tiny bottles in the garage and bathroom cabinets.


My name is Ashley, and I am the child of an addict. As a kid, I cried when our family dinner reservation shrunk from four to three after a man with glassy eyes stumbled through the door. I didn't guzzle the vodka, but I felt the heartbreak of missed birthdays. I feel like I should weigh 500 pounds from all the “I'm sorry" chocolate donuts. I had to grow up quicker, but it made me into the person I am today.

addiction, coping, 12 step programs, recovery

Me and my dad.

Photo with permission from writer Ashley Tieperman.

I spent many years shouting into journals about why this was happening to me. But this is the thing that no one will tell you about loving someone who has an addiction: it will force you to see the world through different eyes.

Here are some things I've learned:

1. When your family's yelling about burnt toast, they're probably also yelling about something else.

My family yelled about everything — and nothing — to avoid the messy stuff. We all handled my dad's addiction differently. My brother devoured sports. My mom took bubble baths. I slammed doors and slammed boyfriends for not understanding my family's secrets.

Regardless of the preferred coping mechanism, everyone feels pain differently.

2. Your "knight in shining armor" can't fix this.

Boyfriends became my great escape when I was young. But when I expected them to rescue me from the pain I grew up with, it never worked out. No matter how strapping they looked galloping in on those white horses, they couldn't save me or fix anything.

In the end, I realized that I had to find healing on my own before I could build a strong relationship.

3. “Don't tell anyone" is a normal phase.

When my dad punched holes in the wall, my mom covered them up with artwork. I wanted to rip the artwork down to expose all the holes, especially as a bratty teenager. But eventually I realized that it wasn't my choice. My parents had bills to pay and jobs to keep. I've learned it's common to cover up for dysfunction in your family, especially when it feels like the world expects perfection.

4. Friends probably won't get it, but you'll need them anyway.

Bulldozed by broken promises, I remember collapsing on a friend's couch from the crippling pain of unmet expectations. I hyperventilated. Things felt uncontrollable and hopeless. My friend rubbed my back and just listened.

These are the kinds of friends I will keep forever, the ones who crawled down into the dark places with me and didn't make me get back up until I was ready.

5. You can't fix addiction, but you can help.

When I was a teenager, I called a family meeting. I started by playing a Switchfoot song: “This is your life. Are you who you want to be?"

Let's skip to the punchline: It didn't work.

It wasn't just me. Nothing anyone did worked. My dad had to lose a lot — mostly himself — before he hit that place they call “rock bottom." And, in all honesty, I hate that label because “rock bottom" isn't just a one-and-done kind of place.

What can you do while you wait for someone to actually want to get help? Sometimes, you just wait. And you hope. And you pray. And you love. And you mostly just wait.

6. Recovery is awkward.

When a counselor gave me scripted lines to follow if my dad relapsed, I wanted to shred those “1-2-3 easy steps" into a million pieces.

For me, there was nothing easy about my dad's recovery. My whole family had to learn steps to a new dance when my dad went into recovery. The healing dance felt like shuffling and awkwardly stepping on toes. It was uncomfortable; new words, like trust and respect, take time to sink in. And that awkwardness is also OK.

7. I still can't talk about addiction in the past tense.

Nothing about an addict's life happens linearly. I learned that early on. My dad cycled through 12-step programs again and again, to the point where I just wanted to hurl whenever anyone tried to talk about it. And then we finally reached a point where it felt like recovery stuck.

But even now, I'll never say, “My dad used to deal with addiction." My whole family continues to wrestle with the highs and lows of life with an addict every single day.

8. Happy hours and wedding receptions aren't easy to attend.

My family will also probably never clink glasses of red wine or stock the fridge full of beer. I'm convinced happy hours and wedding receptions will get easier, but they might not. People get offended when my dad orders a Diet Coke instead of their fine whisky.

Plus, there's the paranoia factor. Surrounded by flowing liquor, I hate watching my dad crawl out of his skin, tempted to look “normal" and tackle small talk with people we barely know. I've learned that this fear will probably last for a while, and it's because I care.

9. If you close your eyes, the world doesn't just “get prettier."

With constant fear of the unknown, sometimes our world is not a pretty place. I remember watching the breaking news on 9/11 and feeling the terror of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers as if I was there.

My dad numbed the anxiety of these dark days with vodka, but this didn't paint a prettier world for him when he woke up the next day. I've dealt with the fear of the unknown with the help of boys, booze, and bad dancing on pool tables. Life hurts for everyone, and I think we all have to decide how we're going to handle the darkness.

10. Rip off the sign on your back that reads: “KICK ME. MY LIFE SUCKS."

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I see only my broken journey. In some twisted way, I'm comforted by the dysfunction because it's kept me company for so long. It's easy to let the shadow of my family's past follow me around and choose to drown in the darkness.

But every day, I'm learning to turn on the light. I have to write the next chapter in my recovery story, but I can't climb that mountain with all this crap weighing me down.

11. It's OK to forgive, too.

Some people have given me sucky advice about how I should write an anthem on daddy bashing, or how to hit the delete button on the things that shaped my story.

Instead, my dad and I are both learning to celebrate the little things, like the day that he could change my flat tire. On that day, I didn't have to wonder if he was too drunk to come help me.

I can't forget all the dark nights of my childhood.

But I've learned that for my own well-being, I can't harbor bitterness until I explode.

Instead, I can love my dad, day by day, and learn to trust in the New Dad — the one with clearer eyes and a full heart. The one who rescues me when I call.


This article was written by Ashley Tieperman and originally appeared on 04.27.16

Family

Mom wants to know when Halloween became 'an adult pub crawl'?

"Have parents always done this, and they're just being more public about it now?”

Celeste Yvonne had a recent Halloween realization.

Celeste Yvonne, a certified recovery coach and a founding host of the Sober Mom Squad, had a Halloween realization and wanted to know if she was the only person who felt the same.

“This morning, I'm listening to parents at the school drop-off area talk about how they will be bringing a keg onto their golf carts when they do the trick-or-treating rounds with their kids this year,” Yvonne says in a viral TikTok video.

“I'm not shaming them, but my question is: when did trick-or-treating become a beer crawl or pub crawl for adults?” she asked. “This is a newer phenomenon, isn't it? Or have parents always done this, and they're just being more public about it now?”


“I mean, even now, you can go up to a house doorway, and they will have candy for the kids or adult drinks for the adults. I never saw that growing up trick-or-treating,” Yvonne added. “Is this a newer phenomenon as a result of mommy wine culture or just the normalization of alcohol in general?”

@theultimatemomchallenge

#mommywineculture #halloween

The answer could be that drinking is a lot more visible during the holiday because the number of adults who celebrate is on the rise. At the same time, there has been a rise in alcohol consumption among older adults, where we now drink about the same amount as we did in the pre-Civil War era.

Interestingly, at the same time, there has been a decline in drinking among younger people.

In the comments, many noted that we didn’t see parents drinking during trick-or-treating in the past because kids used to go out with their older friends or siblings. “In the ‘80s, our parents let us go on our own. They stayed home and did what they wanted or at least in my town,” Leigh Winchester Fle wrote. “Gen Xer here, my boomer parents just sent us out and stayed behind and boozed. Now I think our generation tags along and take roadies,” Uncle Rico added.

Anyone who has gone through the process of disentangling themselves from an addiction knows it's an ongoing, daily battle. It may get easier, and the payoffs may become more apparent, but it's still a decision someone makes each day to stay detached from their substance of choice.

Seeing someone who has a long record of sobriety—especially after a very public struggle—can be motivating and inspiring for others in different stages of their recovery journey. That's part of why actor Rob Lowe's announcement that he's reached 31 years sober is definitely something to celebrate.

"Today I have 31 years drug and alcohol free," Lowe wrote on Twitter. "I want to give thanks to everyone walking this path with me, and welcome anyone thinking about joining us; the free and the happy. And a big hug to my family for putting up with me!! Xoxo"


Lowe, who is now 57, spent his early-to-mid 20s embroiled in negative press after a scandal over an underage sex tape (he was 24 and one of the two women he was with was 16—over the age of consent for sex in the state of Georgia at the time, but too young to be recorded) and his widely publicized substance abuse issues. In 1990, two years after the sex tape scandal, he decided to stop drinking and doing drugs. He entered a rehab program—which he has said was the best decision he ever made—and has managed to remain sober ever since.

He has also been married to his wife, Sheryl Berkoff, since 1991. The couple has raised two sons, who are now around the age Lowe was when he got sober, and who love to hilariously troll their old man on social media. (Even when you're a studly, successful superstar, your kids will always be there to keep you grounded.) His career has flourished since his return to television in "The West Wing," and he has become a bit of a poster boy for redemption in Hollywood.

He has also been quite open about how happy sobriety has made him. Last year, on his 30th recovery anniversary, Lowe wrote about his "sober life of true happiness and fulfillment" on Instagram.

"From a treatment center in Arizona to a bomb shelter in Israel, I have come to know many extraordinary people," he wrote, "and the fellowship of recovery has changed my life and given me gifts beyond my selfish imaginings."


One of Lowe's big fears when he got sober at 26 was that he wasn't going to have fun anymore. He told Kelly Clarkson that he couldn't imagine not having a drink at his wedding or a whiskey when his kids were born. "Guess what?" he said. "Yes, I didn't have any of that, and it's awesome."

Lowe told Variety that sobriety has to come from a deep desire for change in the addict themselves.

"Nothing can make you get sober except you wanting to do it," he said. "The threat of losing a marriage, losing a job, incarceration — you name the threat, it will not be enough to do it. It's got to be in you. The reason that people don't get sober 100% of the time when they go into programs is that people aren't ready when they go to use the tools."

Lowe also shared with Variety the moment he knew he was ready for rehab:

"I was ready when one day back in the days of answering machines, my mother called me and I could hear her voice on the answering machine. I didn't want to pick up because I was really, really hungover and I didn't want her to know. She was telling me that my grandfather, who I loved, was in critical condition in the hospital and she needed my help. And I didn't pick up. My thought process in that moment was 'I need to drink a half a bottle of tequila right now so I can go to sleep so I can wake up so I can pick up this phone."


Lowe says that all of his understanding about life has come from getting and staying sober. "The only way to stay in recovery is to be honest with yourself on a minute-by-minute basis," he told Variety. "No secrets, no double life. And you have to get real...the longer you are in recovery the more facile you are in getting honest."

Congratulations on 31 years sober, Rob Lowe. May your story be an inspiration to others who are on their own path to and through recovery.