Before I became a broadcast journalist, I co-owned a couple of restaurants –one of which, for a brief time, was the Blue Moon Diner in Charlottesville, Virginia. My partner was a glorious woman named Maggie Cox; friend supreme, chef supreme, character supreme. We had a blast, serving a combination of traditional diner food and whatever we could dream up in the decrepit kitchen. I baked fresh apple pies and biscuits every day and if there was any apple pie left over from the day before, we gave it away at breakfast.

The place was too small to support two family units, and, besides, I can see in retrospect that I was beginning my precipitous slide. Between then and now is my bottom, my bounce, and the long, upward climb–made in partnership with H.P.–into today’s welcome sobriety.

The Blue Moon diner just re-opened, yet again, under new management. I have business in Charlottesville today and have made plans to meet two ladies there for lunch. This has, of course, got me thinking about my own diner days; and, you know, just because I was on my way down when I was there doesn’t diminish the good times I had there with Maggie Cox.

As the promises put it so well: We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. Sobriety is about self-acceptance, not self-hatred.

I’m really looking forward to lunch.