By Any Other Name

It was the same three letter word, completely different meaning.

I grew up in a household where neither of my parents drank alcohol and I completely followed suit. To this day the strongest drink I have ever had was a dose of NyQuil and once I learned of its alcohol content I have opted to use medicines that remedy the same symptoms with different ingredients. Because alcohol was entirely absent from my surroundings and upbringing I didn't realize that I had grown up as quite the teetotaler.

My parents weren't the only people who didn't drink alcohol as the community at large embraced an alcohol-free lifestyle. I can't even think of one drinking establishment in my town during my youth. Given the misconceptions that come from ignorance, I openly admit that I pretty much imagined people who drank alcohol must be among the more wicked and dangerous people who walked the street. I suppose I was fairly certain that   the Mos Eisley Cantina accurately captured your average watering hole.

You can imagine my surprise when as a nineteen-year-old young man I found myself smack in the middle of downtown Madrid, Spain. Even more shocking was when my companion suggested that we get a snack at a nearby BAR.  There was that three letter word. I couldn't believe that I was about to walk into a den of iniquity and be accosted by the influences of evil.

Fortunately, I had also learned the practice of following the advice of people who had more experience and understanding. I figured that I was going to get a quick introduction to Spanish culture and I did. As we crossed the threshold and found an empty table, I realized that a bar in Spain did not mean what I thought it meant. I saw actual families sitting around wooden tables with clean but mismatched chairs. It looked like everyone knew each other and there was absolutely no mischief apparent in the place.

Was I really in a bar? I could see more people eating and talking than smoking and drinking.There was more smoking in the metro system, as the crackdown on public smoking had not yet begun. This was obviously a place for the neighborhood to gather and make community connections. Even better, on that evening I ate my first tortilla sandwich, one of the best comfort foods around. I would go on to enter into scores of bars and order that simple plate with an orange Fanta or a lemon Schweppes, with ice.

On that night I realized in a way that I had never understood before that people who make different choices than I do can be just as good, if not better, than I am. I also realized that I remained just as comfortable with my choice to abstain from alcohol and that personal choices can be respected as such. With that simple lesson learned I found it  much easier to see the tremendous good in all people.