FDS Insight Newsletter Jul-Sep 2020

5 Long night’s journey into day J. Caradonna ong before I even contemplated writing this piece and began eagerly scribbling away in my pad, there were two obvious directional choices for the tone: I could be preachy and write about how the doing of drugs makes baby Jesus cry and how drugs are bad and I would never touch them. Or I could be as honest as possible about my subject matter: no denial, no condoning, only honesty. After long deliberation the second option was chosen. A few days ago a chance to avoid Maths class arose and an entire ‘cohort’ of adolescents seized the opportunity wholeheartedly. When I first heard of a drug-related speech that was going to be delivered to us by some old guy, I (and presumably many others) baulked at the situation: What could a fogey have to teach an uber-pumped, drug- fuelled generation obsessed with fast beats, pepsi and smack? The truth is everything. The awful truth is that what he was saying was not necessarily new, nor was it of any particular distinction from the hordes of other government endorsed anti-drug campaigns that my generation has heard of for the past five years. It was what he did not say that was of great effect. Sitting in the rows before him as he pushed a button on the end of a cord connected to a slide projector, one could not help but feel the pain of a father who lost his son. His eyes fogged and once in a while a quick hand movement to the facial area ensued. Sitting there watching pictures of his 23-year-old son, Damien, dead at the bottom of a dingy staircase in some car park in complete solitude, his silence meant more than a thousand words printed in any syndicated paper or pamphlet ever could. And that is the essence of the occurrence on Monday: raw, uninhibited, hard, cold facts meshed with raw, uninhibited, hard, cold feelings. The man, known to others as Tony Trimingham, left an indelible impression with a genuinely sour after- taste. Seeing his son’s tormented face flashing before me on a wide screen assisted in teaching me one valuable thing and should assist people in acknowledging one fact: there is no economy class combat for this problem. The future battles against drugs will not be tailor made for the suburban masses; it transcends that. Everyone you know has something to do with drugs. For every heart beat and stride out there exists a story about it or a connection to it. It is around us all the time: at your local library, in your supermarket, at your bank, in your park, at your school, on the football field, between books, on the screen, m your music. We are all processed meat in the ‘crack’ sandwich. And now for the part where the reader says, ‘Here’s another person who keeps raising issues and demeanours within society but doesn’t offer up any L