Over the past few years, two immigrants in their mid-fifties became my friends. These guys are among the gentlest spirits that I’ve known, though one tells me he was a boxer back in the day and he works like a beast with a pick and shovel. The other man speaks five languages and knows far more about Botany than I do.

While both men are delightful to interact with, each binge drinks every so often. One drinks until he passes out at the community gardens I manage and sometimes ends up in the hospital, drying out, for multiple days. The other becomes annoyingly loud and manic and does stupid stuff that causes him to lose jobs. He also suffers broken bones in unexplained tumbles. Both have visibly damaged their bodies by drinking excessively and seem likely to die before their time.

When I talk to these two about a given alcohol-fueled episode, they initially deny that they had drank to excess. After I mention the contrary evidence provided by the above outcomes, one admitted that, well, he might have had a beer or two. The other would only cop to imbibing a small amount of an alcohol-based herbal tincture remedy.

Please.