ANNA AND BUDDY.




Anna and Buddy are two of the best people we know.


They are old and close friends, like family.


Musicians in their fifties,


they were coming home from a job


when they were involved in an auto accident, and injured.




During their recovery they got hooked on pain pills.


These are not dopers.


They are wholesome people who play fine music,


and always keep a nice home.


She speaks six languages.


They got a doctor who had a waiting room full of people


at all times,


coming from miles around and waiting 5 or 6 hours


for the pills he had the reputation for being liberal with.


Then they went on tour and had doctors all over the country.


They lost their home, their health,


and got old before our eyes.


They also went into deep depression.




I got a phone call late one night from Buddy.


He said that he and Anna were sitting in their car,


in the garage, with the motor running.


They'd had it!


They wanted me to explain to their kids,


who were grown and had families of their own,


that this was their only way out.


They didn't want to be any further burden.


That was the reason for the call.


Or maybe it was a call for help.




They lived 70 or 80 miles from us,


so I couldn't get there in time to do anything,


and I couldn't reason with him,


so I tried this:


I told him that if I didn't get a phone call from him


every ten minutes for the rest of the night,


I would call 911.


It made him mad.


He pleaded and cursed.


But it worked.




Today they're perfectly clean and living in Brazil,


Anna's home country,


where he is running a farm


and she is a teacher and an interpreter.




We don't get to see our friends anymore.


Just an occasional call,


but it's worth it.




They're alive.






Jack Blanchard




© 2001.