Magnificent Desolation_ The Long Journey Home From the Moon - Buzz Aldrin [67]
Although we mentioned my being inebriated in several stories in the book, it never occurred to me that I might have a drinking problem. Almost everyone I knew drank alcohol in some measure, astronauts included. The only astronauts who didn’t drink while I was a part of NASA were Alan Bean and Bill Anders. For me, drinking was not a problem; it was simply something I did to relax. At least that’s what I told myself.
When my father found out that I was writing a book, he was nearly apoplectic—especially when he learned that I wanted to tell the real story, about how not all astronauts were Boy Scouts or altar boys. Not everything was always well and good at NASA. But what concerned him most was my intention to reveal more information about how and why I had sought out psychiatric help for my own problems. Soldiers didn’t do that—especially Aldrin soldiers. But I had, and I was glad that I had done so. Thanks to the doctors with whom I had worked at Wilford Hall, I at least recognized the signs of a depressive period coming on me, and could take some steps to fend it off.
Part of my father’s concern related to how the good people at Mutual of Omaha might view me now that the news was public that I had sought help. Dad wrote letters to me frequently during this period, and in each letter he asked in a poignant, pleading tone, “Son, are you still on the board at Mutual?” His fears were not unfounded.
With each letter, Dad expressed increasing concern. On July 24 he wrote, “Are you on the Mutual of Omaha Board? Did you have to get off for a period? What about the response by the USAF?”
By October 27 my father was no longer camouflaging his concerns. In that letter he asked straightforwardly, “Will your book handicap your activity, like Mutual of Omaha?”
Despite my father’s concerns and objections, in the fall of 1973 my first book, Return to Earth, was published by Random House. We launched the book tour with an appearance on The Merv Griffin Show, one of the popular talk shows of the time, and then a press conference at the Good Housekeeping Institute—of all places. In light of the exposure of my extramarital affair in the book, Good Housekeeping was putting its seal of approval and goodie-two-shoes-image on the line. But the book ended on a positive note with Joan and me back together, so perhaps that made it more tolerable to the wholesome organization that had then, and still has today, one of the highest ratings of consumer confidence.
I had worked for more than a year on the book, describing my adjustment to life on Earth after having attained the goal of reaching the moon. Joan had forgiven me for my infidelity, and still hoped that “the old Buzz” would return once I was “well.” She even went along with me on the tour to help promote the book. Before long we received overtures about a possible deal in the works to do a television movie, so although Joan and I still weren’t functioning well as a married couple, we were at least together. Indeed, we could have been fine, but for my recurring bouts of depression that led to drinking too much alcohol, which led to further depression. It was a downward spiral.
I wasn’t obnoxious when I drank; I did, however, feel less inhibited. Drinking relaxed me, imparting an almost euphoric sense of wellness. I didn’t realize that I was not impressing other people that way at all. I drank mostly at home, but occasionally I would go out to a bar and sit there drinking and talking with people until it was time to close and I had to go home. When I drank at night, I often woke up the next day with a hangover, and I soon discovered that the best cure for that horrible morning-after feeling was another drink. That is addiction.
Looking back, I see that Joan was a good woman who had to put up with a lot. It is devastating enough for any woman to learn that her husband has been having an affair and wants to marry the “other woman.” When a husband is supposed to be a hero