Utah's Curious Alcohol Divide

Rachel and her husband were in town the past few days. We managed to pack every moment--dinner at Rodizio Grill, ice cream at Sub Zero, Saturday morning Nutella crepes (Is there a food theme here?), a fast-paced game of Settlers (well...they played while I watched BYU basketball)--along with the wedding activities that brought them here in the first place. Last night we attended an Irish band concert downtown at the Depot. Rachel's best friend Brittany came too, with her husband, so the six of us shouted, sang, and danced at the front of the crowded floor through three hours and two bands, leaving with ringing ears and tired feet. It was a lot of fun.

What impressed me most about the evening was watching my son-in-law, Josh, and Brittany's husband, Tyler, have a good time without a glass of beer in their hands. They are both ruggedly handsome, easily fitting the target audience of alcohol commercials that promise a better life with one brand or another, but they are both devoted to a church that abstains. Their casual abstinence--I don't think either of them even thought about alcohol during the evening--is one of the masterpieces of a church that strengthens individuals and protects their families through a broad and simple approach: we just don't drink. I've been thinking about the power of this abstinence all day.

I grew up on a children-filled street in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C. On Saturdays and all through the sticky summers, we argued through passionate games of kickball in the street, roller skated furiously up and down the sidewalks, adoringly watched my best friend's beautiful older sister twirl her baton in her driveway. We rode our bikes the couple of miles each way to the library to check out new books and built forts in the forest behind our homes, lining the ground with moss, overlaying cut branches to provide a shady roof overhead. We snuck in games of Hide and Seek in the model homes a few blocks from my house, surprisingly never getting caught. It was an idyllic time, before video games and laptop computers lured children into staying indoors, before adults worried about strangers and perfection and began scheduling all their children's free time. In the evenings, my friends' fathers brought their lawn chairs to their front walks and sipped beer while they watched us play. These good Catholic fathers coached their daughters on Sunday softball leagues, working hard the rest of the week to support their families. It was clear to me that alcohol use by itself did not prevent a man from being a good dad.

Then I moved to and from Utah, and frankly, I didn't think much about alcohol for about the next 25 years. I kept to a social circle of active Mormon friends, and I think the only times I ever saw anyone drinking was during a rare trip to Las Vegas or on an airplane. It wasn't until a subsequent move to Utah, this time as a single parent, that I began to realize the social chasm between drinkers and non-drinkers that exists here, with misunderstanding and hurt on both sides. For nearly 10 years since, I have paid careful attention, wishing for a return to the calm acceptance of my Virginia street, at least as I saw it as a child. But there are some difficult obstacles. Overcoming them requires an understanding of at least three different myths.

Myth #1: People who drink alcohol are inherently and equally evil. I encountered this myth in my first teaching job in Tooele. I was daily inspired by a teaching partner who was from California and a practicing, believing Catholic. Her prayers were every bit as sincere as mine, and God answered her with regular miracles. She brought coffee to work every morning, and she openly expressed gratitude for the glass of wine that greeted her at home at the end of a tough day with fifth graders. Unfortunately, she was ridiculed by misdirected Mormons who often chastened her for her indulgences. I witnessed a member of my faith, and I apologize for her behavior, approach this dear teacher friend and admonish her to repent quickly so she could be with her children in Heaven, after they all passed on. Mercy Me!

Myth #2: People who chose to abstain from alcohol (in Utah) are all judgmental prudes. The experience listed above is an exception to my more common belief that abstainers just want to quietly live according to their own value system. The 25 years I didn't think about alcohol is evidence of that point. I didn't think about drinkers like I didn't think about tennis players or street sweepers. I was busy being a mom and concerned with my own issues. But it does seem that drinkers here are sure non-drinkers are trying to ruin their party--more than in other parts of the country. Having lived in other parts of the country, though, I see liquor regulation everywhere: on the beaches, on the Sabbath, in designated parts of town. In Boise, a regular fleet of policemen cruise the club district, visible about every 5 minutes. In Salt Lake City, that level of attention would be labeled Mormon meddling and harassment.

Myth #3: Drinking makes people happy. We watch a lot of sports TV at our house, and I see lots of beer commercials. Some of them are ironically true: in various ways, wives and girlfriends are thoughtlessly passed up for a refreshing cold beer. I am not sure why those commercials are funny. But more commercials are not at all true. Inevitably, the guy drinking the beer has more power, good looks and sexy fun than anyone else deserves or receives. I am sorry for this lie! In my immediate circle of experience, I have seen a husband drink himself to death, leaving his children fatherless, and I know many other husbands come home only to fall into drunken sleep on the sofa, leaving their children nearly as fatherless as the orphans. In an article about violent crime and television, this sobering fact was highlighted: almost all violent crime involves alcohol; often both the victim and the perpetrator have been drinking. It is true that good men exist who drink in moderation. But far too many don't.

Which brings me back to Josh and Tyler, in the Depot last night, without beer. Their wives are blessed to have husbands who see through the allure of it all, who can drive them home safely, walk a straight line, and get up with clear heads in the morning. They are ruggedly handsome, and good. I hope they will line up lawn chairs, on summer evenings, to watch their children play. And if you drink, I hope they will invite you to watch the children with them, as did the fathers on my childhood street, drinking without drunkenness. Only with moderation and tolerance can we cross Utah's curious alcohol divide.