September 8, 2002 is my 25th anniversary in the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. Unaccustomed to making a big deal about length of sobriety I realized that I have probably earned the right to say at meeting that “I have been around for a few 24 hours”. Also I may be considered among the ranks of “old timers” although a fellow white haired member of my Men’s Group reminded me that the only thing you have to do to become an old timer is to not drink and not die. It has been a wonderful journey and I look forward to another twenty-five, one day at a time.
I am full of recollections, memories and thoughts about people that have helped me along the way. Some of the characters include my two first sponsors who took me on in tandem, realizing that I needed all the help I could get. Frank was a Big Book pounding circuit speaker who made you sit up in your seat and listen when he spoke. He also made you squirm a little as he outlined the “musts” for successful recovery. Tom was a softer and gentler former wino whose sense of humor and quiet spirituality impressed me. Between the two I was carried and tough loved thought he first crucial year and a half of sobriety.
I think also of Tom, my first AA “buddy”. We did meetings together every night for several years became good friends and spent a lot of time together outside of meetings, his family and mine getting along and having fun together. Tom didn’t stay sober but I wouldn’t be writing this column were it not for him.
There were people whose courage in dealing with life’s problems sober made me feel silly about wanting to drink over small things. There was Jimmy Mac who found his son dead in the woods after the snow left in the spring. His son had died from sniffing gasoline. Jimmy didn’t drink was held together by the love of his group and the power of the program and the power behind the program.
There was a woman in Lowell, Massachusetts who had lost her kids in a fire while she had left them alone to go to a meeting. She did not drink over it and was supported in love by her group members.
On another occasion I was approached by a friend and asked if I could take a guy in a wheelchair to meetings since I had a van. I agreed and was to meet one of the most powerful people I have ever met. He called himself “4:15 Pete” because he would always identify with the time and date of his last drink. Pete was several years sober when he took in a newly sober young man as a roommate. One night the man came home drunk and beat Pete on the head with a cast iron frying pan while Pete was sleeping. Pete was pronounced dead at the local E.R. but was revived and despite severe brain damage slowly improved. When I wheeled him in to his first meeting back it was a moment I will never forget. Pete never picked up a drink.
I could not talk about my sobriety without mentioning my good friend Fred. About six years ago some friends and I started the Downtown Delray Group with the idea of keeping an AA presence downtown after Central House moved north. We hoped to be there for people without transportation living in the many sober living places downtown. Fred was one of them. He rode a bike to meetings and attended every day. As I got to know Fred I became aware of the fact that he had another terminal illness. This one was not as easy to put in remission as alcoholism and drug addiction. It was hard to tell for he looked like a healthy athlete.
The group had experienced a shaky beginning with two moves in the first year and a half and now the group was faced with the prospect of closing down for good. Fred, myself and two others were discussing this prospect and Fred was adamant about not letting the group dissolve. He said: “this is where I got sober and if I have to sit in the park with a Big Book I will keep the group going”. He did. We found a new place and the group is thriving today.
Fred died shortly after his one year anniversary. The last weeks of his life he was never without the companionship of one of the group members. On his anniversary twenty-five members of the group took a meeting to him at the Veterans Hospital in West Palm Beach and presented him with a one year medallion necklace. We all went in shifts to be with him and since I was self employed at the time I got nights. On his last night he and I had a meeting although he was not conscious. I read from the Big Book conducted a meeting gave him an opportunity to share and enjoyed the love and peace of his last hours.
He made it through the night as if he knew that the nurse had called his mother to tell her the end was near. His mother arrived and my friend Amy and I went out for a cigarette. Fred died in his mothers arms. Amy and I came in and removed Fred’s medallion and put it around his mom’s neck.
As I look back on these people, their lessons, and my privilege and honor in being included in their lives, I realize that I have been blessed beyond any possibility of repayment. I only hope that by smiling at the newcomer, extending my hand, and providing an encouraging word to fellow sufferers I can in some small way return these blessings.
I have always felt that to relapse would be like spitting in God’s eye and that not doing his work in this life would be the height of ingratitude. The Preamble tells us that we have two jobs to do. The first is to stay sober and the second is to help other alcoholics achieve sobriety. If I have learned only one thing in this fellowship it is that I cannot accomplish the first job without doing the second one.
I often hear from some old timers that AA has changed, that it isn’t like “the good old days”. I strongly take exception to that notion. Every meeting I go to I see an example of the picture of Bill and Bob with the man on the bed. One drunk helping another is still the bottom line. If I am looking for this, the true spirit of our fellowship, I will always see it. If I am trying to judge, criticize or complain I will miss seeing the miracle that God shows me every day. I can’t allow my arrogance to keep me from the sunlight of the spirit. That person sharing in what I might consider an inappropriate way may be the man who saves my life and gives me one more day. Or he may be, like the stranger that shook my hand and welcomed me to Alcoholics Anonymous, the stranger to some yet unknown newcomer whose single act of human kindness provides the connection to God and a life of sobriety.
So like the guy at the Academy Awards I have the unique opportunity to thank the people who have helped me over the years and in so doing will inevitably forget someone but it would be a waste of a once in a lifetime opportunity not to thank my mom and dad for their patience and support over the years. Also I must thank Frank B., Tommy C., Johno H. and Dave D. for taking on sponsorship of this exasperating recovering drunk. Thanks to God in all his manifestations. Also all my friends acquaintances and strangers in the rooms of AA.