I know alcohol, and alcohol knows me. We've been friends, and enemies, for years. I grew up in a working, middle-class family, and the oldest of six children. My parents were light drinkers, imbibing mostly at weddings and parties. My father's grandfather, however, was an alcoholic. I've heard stories about times my father had to go to the tavern and help his grandfather home. My grandfather never drank, not wanting to follow the same path as his father.

When I was young, I seldom drank alcohol. I would have a couple drinks at weddings or parties, but that was about it. However, after I married and had five children, my life became increasingly stressful. My husband was very hard on the kids and very possessive of them and me. As the kids grew into adolescence it became a nightmare. They wanted to spread their wings and he wanted to keep them home, under his thumb. More and more frequently I turned to my friend, alcohol, to lesson the stress and frustration.

I didn't get drunk. Only on a few occasions, usually when I drank something harder than wine, did I get sick. But my tolerance for alcohol was steadily increasing. I found myself buying wine at different liquor stores so they wouldn't think I was an alcoholic.

When, finally, after 23 years of marriage, I found the courage to divorce my husband, I continued to drink my wine for a while. Then, when my brother, who is 11 months younger than me, told me he was going into rehab for alcoholism, I made a promise to him that if he quit drinking, so would I. It wasn't easy at first, but I kept my promise and didn't touch a drop of alcohol for the next 12 or 13 years.

My brother did well for a while, and then slipped off the wagon. This, I felt released me from my promise. One night, while attending the wedding of a coworker, I succumbed to the temptation and had a couple drinks. I drank sparingly for a while but, eventually, I was back to having my couple glasses of wine every evening. Around this time, I met the love of my life. We were married after a couple years of visiting back and forth. He lived in the south and I in the north.

When we were forced to move north again to take care of my 94 year old mother and invalid brother, yes, the same brother who was an alcoholic, I was soon back to my wine-at-night habits. It relaxed me, helped me sleep and took the edge off all my problems. However, noticing little by little the way alcohol has wreaked havoc in so many of

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