My father was an alcoholic and worked as a lumberjack in the bush. Vividly I remember my father would not arrive home on Friday nights. Often in winter, late at night, my mother would call us and my brother and I would go out the mile trail to the highway to look for my father. Many times we would find him on the side of the highway where his drinking buddies had dropped him off and we would bring him home on the sled. He would have died there had we not found him.

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