The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you
bring everything to, every minute of your whole life. And the most important thing - it must
be something you cannot possibly do.
Henry Moore, as told to Donald Hall
Foreword
I am not the first writer to pen an autobiography of another person. I think it was done by Gertrude in Paris some time ago. She wrote about Alice, but so what? Hemingway wrote about Pamplona, and so did Gene McCoy, or was it Pete Stuart? No, Pamplona was about Pete Stuart in Pamplona with Birgitta. Anyway I think you get my drift.
Coming to Conclusions is almost an autobiography and in its essence I have been
faithful to my perception of reality; it is true, but some of the vignettes have been airbrushed
to a heightened reality. I cannot imagine that anyone would want to read the
autobiography of Gene Charles McCoy, nor Peter Tristan Stuart for that matter, without a little bit of airbrushing in of literary
license. It would be a chronicle of failure, mediocrity, missed opportunities, loneliness,
despair and alcoholism. Even with the heightened reality these aspects of a lesser reality still
come through, but everything in the story, even when embellished, has its roots in truth.
Some of the names of the people have been changed, but the most
important characters in every case have their flesh and blood counterparts in truth. Thus, it
is not quite an autobiography, but neither is it a novel. It is a memoir.
It is sad that someone did not whisper Henry Moore's secret to life in my ear at the
start of my journey; I might have come to different conclusions; I might have been a
contender. For most of my life I did not have that all absorbing task that Moore
mentions, but I seemed to have been searching for it. Now, with Plato's admonition that
"The life which is unexamined is not worth living," the examination of my life by
the writing of this memoir has become my task. I hope that by writing my story I might see
my life in its totality as the dynamic expression of hope and creativity, and thus glean some
insight into the truth of my existence to answer the question, "Who am I?"
I could go to a psychotherapist tell him or her what it was like, what happened and
what it is like now, then he or she could interpret me to me, tell me, you are feeling/thinking
thus and so, but those would be his or her conclusions about me, wouldn't they? Or, I
could go to a Twelve Step sponsor, tell him what it was like, etc., and he would tell me thus
and so. Those would be his conclusions about my experience. I have decided that I must
come to my own conclusions about what my life was like, what happened, and what it is
like now;
what, if anything, it all meant - what it was and is all about.
There is also the possibility
that Coming to Conclusions might one day serve to help my children and grandchildren
come to their conclusions, find themselves; if there is any truth to the notion that alcoholism
is a family disease, then one day some of my descendants may be writing their own "fourth
steps" in some 12 Step program as they search for the source of their problems, discontent
and unhappiness in, among other places, Gene's genes.-->
