Jonah Goldberg and Rod Dreher are stunned to learn there's such a thing as a college guy who doesn't drink because it's against the law for him to do so. Jonah raises some questions of law and culture implicit in this finding.I don't have time to explore this in detail right now, but I personally will be 21 next month, and--as the song goes--"I've never had a drink in my life." While I'm sure you could find a couple of people who'd describe me as some kind of draconian puritan, the truth is I don't have any particular moral objection to the act of having a few drinks (though I do have a moral objection to being intoxicated out of one's right mind). I'm sure after my birthday next month I will occasionally partake in what Jonah calls the "medicinal liquids."
What I'm saying is: right now I have no reason to drink alcohol. But after I'm 21, I'll have no real reason not to drink (though, again, not to excess). So am I waiting just because of the law? I don't know. Maybe.
Mike? Gabe?
Let me first put it simply and sassily: I don't drink because there are plenty of people already doing it for me.
Now the frank, personally revealing explanation. I came to be a nondrinker almost by accident; someone I admired very much between my junior and senior year of high school appeared to be a part of the then-burgeoning Straightedge movement. Even though a misunderstanding (in fact it wasn't the case), the practice as counter-culture appealed to me greatly. As many of you who know me understand, I adhere rather easily and tenaciously to ideals - particularly those of Apollonian self-control. I like the idea of perpetual restraint and determination; in many ways I find myself following, at least in word, Harry Truman and his belief "that the first victory that 'great men' won was always 'over themselves and their carnal urges.'" Look at Keirsey's Myers-Briggs profile of me and the resulting moral tendencies, and you might better understand my disinterest and near-allergy to the idea and practice of indulgence. I'm not exactly built to eat, drink and be merry.
Entering college one year later and perceiving crude displays of irresponsibility all around me only galvanized the desire to separate myself from what I saw as deliberate attempts to forfeit one's control over one's own life. Strange as it sounds, I find that sort of thing, that cycle, hurtful - as if those who do it are trading precious moments of life for hazy ephemera - even still. But in those heady days of a loner's philosophy, it made me angry. I had harsh words for revelry and gave it as wide a berth as I could.
As the years in college passed, I began to temper my beliefs; I didn't drink but accepted those who did. I found that I could laugh at some of the more innocent stories of friends gone blotto, and I worked to make my increasingly rare beliefs fun: on my 21st birthday, a friend left a bottle of O'Doul's outside my door (still in my folks' fridge) and I came to my birthday dinner in the dining hall with Teen Idle Xs.
Today, I still do not drink. I've made a few technical exceptions like nonalcoholic wine but continue to enjoy beverages that require only the check-and-balance of appetite. I'm still uncomfortable with overconsumption but have come to terms with the habits of good people, keeping close attention to C.S. Lewis' warning that "a cold, self-righteous prig...may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute." I truly enjoy watching my friends and family enjoying a drink or two. I'm always asking buddies Ed and Paul about the beers a waiter has set down in front of them. If my introduction to the stuff had been in an environment of moderation, I might have walked the same path as you, Danny: ready to take advantage of my 21st birthday with respect and care. During my own journey, I found justification for my temperance; it's a commitment I began and intend on seeing to the end of my life. To you, I say "enjoy."
Epilogue: Just as I had finished writing this, OX called me. He's coming over to review today's recordings. "Should I bring some root beer?" he asked. "I'm such an anachronism," I laughed. "Nah," he said, "it's part of your charm."
