August 5, 1990
I have been a sober member of Alcoholics Anonymous for over 35 years. I am amazed that I have not had a drink of alcohol for more than 423 months, 12,890 days and 308,000 hours. The day I began this journey it seemed impossible but by the grace of God and help from my sober friends, it happened.
My blog has been on line for many years now. I originally posted about my bicycle adventures but the past few years I have focused on random subjects. Today I'm posting something very personal, my AA story.
I was born in Salem Ohio in 1951. Salem is located in the foot hills of the Appalachian mountains on the Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia border. Salem was founded by pacifist Quakers in 1805. Because of it's Abolitionist anti-slavery roots, it was a major hub on the underground railroad. It also hosted the first state Woman's Rights Convention.
The town has 12,000 residents, 20 bars and another 18 package liquor stores, one is a drive through. Salem also has 35 churches so it's has plenty of church going drunks or drunk church goers, I was one for years. Ironically there are five AA meetings per week at a place called the Oxford House. The house was owned by a pot dealing friend. We cleaned weed on the very table they use at the meetings.
Growing up in a small town was boring so we drank. We drove fast cars, hunted, fished, played sports and got into fights, all while we were drinking. We thought it was normal back then.
"Real" drunks beat their wives, write bad checks, get fired and get arrested. I had three jobs, two cars, a new house, rental property, a wife and children. I attended church regularly had a perfect driving record and paid my bills on time.
Before I married the girl next door I partied with the best of them. Between wrecking cars, playing pool and picking fights and getting my ass kicked. I took a few classes at Kent State. This was during the anti war riots and student shootings. I went to concerts, drank in the college bars and chased a girl. After I flunked out I hung mostly with my red neck hippy friends.
It turned into our own small town version of Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Salem Ohio. The seventies had very high quality LSD, opiated hashish, speed, mescaline, peyote, mushrooms and assorted street named psychedelics but the local weed sucked.
Because it was a small town, everyone was eating or smoking whatever was circulating. We saw each others faces melt, saw the same shadow people and observed the same auroras and trails. We weren't looking for enlightenment we lived on adrenaline so we almost always did too much.
One night we stole the pot plant the cops were growing in the window of the police station, it just didn't seem right. We dried and smoked it.
After a brush with the law I saw that having anything to do with drugs would end badly so I focused on the legal stuff like Rolling Rock beer, Dickle sour mash whiskey, home made Italian wine and an occasional sip of corn liquor.
Yes I drove and ran heavy equipment while I was drinking but I was very skilled at it. Those were the days you could take a beer to a job interview as long as you took one for them.
In all seriousness I was just a little drunker then my friends. I did have a room full of concerned family and friends waiting for me a few nights. I later learned this was called an intervention. They would encourage me to grow up and take life seriously but like I said I wasn't one of those "real" drunks.
After my first daughter was born on Sunday morning at church I had a moment of clarity. I had attended most Sundays for years and saw only phony people. I enjoyed the favorite pastime of the unbeliever, I judged judgemental people.
During a silent prayer time I quietly challenged God to show me something. In one week my best friend was killed in an auto accident and I got fired four days before Christmas. There I was no job, aware of how fragile life is, a four month old daughter and no idea where I would find a job. In other words God had kicked my ass.
I followed His hint and opened my heart and mind. There was a man at the church named Keith that told me the truth about his own struggles. For the first time I saw a real person and I believed him. At midnight on April 1, 1980 I was Baptized and became active in the church. Those same phony men I had judged grabbed hold of me and loved me. To my surprise they were just like me, imperfect men trying to be better fathers, friends, husbands and men.
I went all in for years. I did not identify as an alcoholic so I didn't have my guard up. I did change how I reacted to life by talking to a friend instead of drinking. The few times I drank I couldn't stop but I stayed dry for most of the six years.
I did get jobs but they were not enough. The steel mills had closed along with the related industry. Everyone was moving to the sun belt for work. Unemployment was as high as 20% so finding regular work became a priority.
My in-laws encouraged us to move to Arizona and flew us out to look around. We were not in a good place in our marriage so I thought the move might save it but unfortunately it did not.
I did get work and for the first year I sent all of my money back and worked a part time job to live on. I found out later that the marriage was already over. In those days phone calls were all long distance and usually answered by a machine.
The plane flights and visits became more and more hostile. Communication with my wife and children became more and more impossible. I finally gave up because of the turmoil the children were experiencing. I was sure a day in the future things would change but they did not.
I felt guilty I had not done more and people were willing to give their opinion and advice that only fueled my guilt. Unfortunately I dealt with the loneliness and stress with alcohol. I soon became a daily drinker. Not the fun kind but the dark depressive medicated kind.
I did return to a church because I had found something there before but church people are nice and won't call you on your bull shit. I was actually a Sunday school teacher. Sober up to teach then drink the guilt away through the week. This became a vicious cycle of guilt and shame.
In all of this I met a woman and fell in love. We both needed something and we both were truly in love but neither of us were emotionally healthy. She was and still is an amazing woman. Shortly after we were married I got sober and she resolved some issues of her own through therapy. Eventually we separated amicably and still talk occasionally. I still regret my behavior and credit her for helping me and supporting me while I struggled to get sober.
What got me into the rooms of AA? Well that is a long dark lonely tunnel.
Unfortunately the relationship with my first wife and my daughters had not gone well. The divorce was ugly and communication broke down. Our plan to move to Arizona ended in disaster.
During this time I had no support group like my friends in Ohio and I had not yet found new friends in Arizona. I did however find an old friend alcohol. None of my drinking was ever fun in Arizona, I used it for sleep and escape from emotional pain. Comfortably numb was how I lived for four years.
It was first a few beers to calm down or sleep then beer in the morning and beer at night then I finally progressed to cheap Popov vodka. I drank in the morning, lunch time, after work and eventually through the night. I was an expert at staying numb until I wasn't.
I heard my story from a Native American in Arizona. He drank like me. If he had a case of beer, he drank it. If he has a fifth of whisky he drank it, whatever he had he did all of it. I was the same so I bought only what I drank. If I bought an extra bottle to hide for later I drank it.
This was obviously a problem because I would plan on a buzz but end up drunk every time. No matter how much I planned I got too drunk but for some reason I never got a DUI.
One night I pulled into a sobriety check point and when I realized what it was I did a u-turn ran over some cones and drove away. I turned left then left into a car port, turned off my lights ducked down and waited a few hours. Police cars circled the area but never saw me. I drank alone so I'm sure there were many more close calls that I don't remember.
Even though I was married I spent too much money, drove drunk, had suicidal thoughts but I never missed work. In the beginning suicide was not a conscious thought but looking back my actions were trying to kill me.
The way I drank and smoked, my disregard for my health and safety and eventually my desire to be alone. Anyone who cared about me and would miss me became my enemy. I pushed everyone out of my life including my wife, I just wanted to stop because living was just too difficult.
I wanted to leave this world without making a mess, hurting anyone or getting any attention. If one night I packed my car and drove away no one would even look for me. This became like a dark tunnel, I was being pulled in with less and less to hold on to.
I believe the only saving grace was God's Spirit who still lived in my heart. I had entered into God's covenant that night in the baptistry at the small Ohio church. I did what Peter said in Acts 2:38.
And Peter said to them, "repent, and let each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit."
I believed that God had come to live in me. In the beginning I felt it but over the years I lost that feeling. I had been so lost and numb I could not sense God's presence no matter where I was. I could not see him in the Grand Canyon, amazing Arizona sunrises or sunsets or the face of a child.
I prayed endless prayers over the years but I guess I had to do what I had to do. My faith felts so useless because I was lost in my addiction. One prayer, one result is how we think God should work but sometimes surrender must come first. I thought my prayers were not being heard but I just couldn't hear the answers.
Jesus never gave up on me but I almost gave up on myself. I was an empty shell never being present anywhere. A lady I had rented a room from saw me in the lobby of the church and gave me a flyer for a 12 step program at the church. Looking back she was there for a reason.
I drank until midnight the night before my first meeting on August 5,1990. I had eight Keystone beers in my car (all day in a hot car in Arizona) I drank them all. I then searched the car for vodka bottles and made sure they were empty.
The next day I went to work without a drink then made it to the 7:00 pm meeting. I had not said anything to my wife. I got there and saw over eaters, codependents, gamblers, drug addicts and three drunks. I did not say a word until the end. I got into a conversation with a man and his wife who were leading the meeting.
For the next month every minute I was not working or sleeping I was at their house. I helped him slurry seal parking lots, played with jet skis and talked for endless hours. My wife was curious but gave me the space I needed. I didn't know what was happening but I was going through withdrawal during that time, they were both recovering addicts with medical experience.
On the thirty day mark I was told to find an AA meeting. The husband had started using heroin again. This was a shock to me because I had put my trust in him. I spent a few days lost but I did not drink and I found an AA meeting.
It was called Basic II on a Wednesday night. Two men that would change my life were there.
They were both in their 80's with questionable health but they both had a calm about them that I desperately wanted. Jim was a crusty old guy who could say fuck and Jesus in the same sentence and it somehow felt spiritual. Bob had Paul Newman blue eyes and seemed quiet and shy. Later I discovered he was a listener who spoke only when needed.
The meeting was small with only five or six men. I thought it was my turn to speak but Jim told me to be quiet. I asked why and he told me I had nothing to say because being new I couldn't tell the truth if I had a gun to my head. My Appalachian roots made me want to retaliate but I stayed quiet.
After the meeting Bob talked with me. I mentioned how offended I was then he clarified what Jim had said. I couldn't tell the truth because I had no idea what was true. He pointed out how we lie steal and cheat our way through life as an active alcoholic so it will take time to unravel what is true.
I had seen psychologists for years to apiece my wife. If I wasn't flat out lying they were helping me rationalize and feel comfortable about being an asshole. Jim was the first man to look me in the eye and tell me the truth.
That first meeting gave me two things. I saw what I wanted, that calm and peace and I heard some hard truth. I talk about this meeting more then any of the thousands of meetings I have attended. AA meetings are a lot like sex you always remember your first time.
This became a weekly process Jim smacked me around with hard truth and Bob sensed my frustration and would tell me he thought I was going to make it. Good sponsor bad sponsor but I think they had done it so long they didn't think about it.
I found another meeting. It was open twenty four hours with meetings morning, noon, afternoon, evening and late night. You could not sleep there but I could always talk to another Alcoholic. It was called 603 because of the house number. It was an older house with sofas, plenty of roaches, strong coffee, cracked coffee cups, a payphone and a refrigerator that had been cleaned a decade ago. The best part, you could smoke in meetings.
If you had five years sober you were a god. There were Vietnam combat vets, outlaw bikers, homeless people, ex-cons, blue collar workers, 13th steppers both men and women and people with court ordered slips to sign. I first thought I didn't fit but I soon realized I was home. They spoke my language.
This is where I learned the language or currency of AA. I would share when it was my turn and they would say "Keep coming back", this is code for you are full of shit. I realized I was trying to fit in and say things so they would like me, I know now really I was full of shit.
Finally I looked around the room and realized I did not work with anyone, wasn't related to anyone or did business with anyone. It was a no risk situation. I started to tell the truth and questioned what I thought was true. That was the day they started to remember my name.
I found an eccentric guy with ten years of sobriety called Painter Larry. He painted houses up north in the summer and wintered in Arizona. He lived in an ancient Winnebago, maybe the very first one built, he called it "vintage". He was what we call a "Big Book thumper". He knew the AA literature from front to back. I learned a great deal from him. He helped me with my first run at the steps.
603 had two people kill themselves within a month. A young girl I had set beside a few days before she took her own life. Another veteran blew his brains out shortly after he chaired a noon meeting.
This sent a shock through the recovering community, this is a matter of life and death. This lit a fire under me I became frantic to find relief. I still had a daily obsession to drink.
I was told to find a Big Book study. I found one on my day off way out in a budget trailer park in Apache Junction. I found the meeting and met the women who ran it. They all had leather tanned skin from months in the sun by the pool. They had raspy voices from smoking hand rolled cigarettes and most had 40 years of sobriety. They called me honey and told me I couldn't read aloud very well so they would read for me.
They had lace covers on their well worn Big Books. They beat me up with truth as blunt as Jim but they loved me up at the same time. They never made suggestions they could read my mind and told me what to do because they were always right. I loved those women.
I struggled through the steps the first time and made amends as soon as I could but the step that gave me relief was my fifth step. You are only as sick as your secrets so I had to tell someone.
I found a Lutheran Pastor who knew what a fifth step was. I chose him because of how I compromised my faith being a drunk Sunday schoolteacher. I planned to let it all out. I handed him my fourth step and writings. As I went through point by point he browsed through what I wrote down on paper in pen. I got to the shame parts and powered through. After I finished the silence seemed like forever.
He eventually looked up and reached across the desk and shook my hand and said "welcome to the human race". He then told me I had not done anything other humans had not done but I did have a unique spin on a few things. We prayed and I thanked him.
The following morning I was shaving and combing my hair. For the first time in a long time I looked myself in the eye. I realized something had changed. The following week I realized my cravings for a drink were gone and have never returned. Yes I have had a few drinking dreams and a thought or two but nothing like it was in the beginning.
After a few years I was at a noon meeting. We had lunch afterward at a local diner. Jim had passed away a few months earlier but Bob was still around but quite ill. He motioned me to stay for a piece of pie. He had finally received a thirty year chip. Both Jim and Bob were chronic relapsers so it took this long to get to thirty years.
We had an ongoing playful argument about why someone would be going to meetings after thirty years. I thought you should have figured it out and graduated by now. Bob put his chip on the table and said if I promised him I would stay active in meetings for ten years I could have his thirty year chip when I had thirty years. He was talking about something that seemed impossible but I promised him I would.
That evening Bob passed away..........
On August 5, 2020 on a Thursday night at my home group "As Men See It" I received my own thirty year chip. Bob and Jim were in the room. A few weeks ago I spoke at a potluck. I was on stage with a microphone, not something I am accustomed to.
I talked about Bob and Jim and the Big Book ladies, Painter Larry and the characters at 603. They were all in the room especially Jim and Bob. After all of these years I still chock up and if you know me that is rare.
The amends I made over the years and the times I went through the steps again have made my life make sense. My rage only surfaces about once a decade, I sleep at night, I have lost that sense of impending doom and I have the calm of Jim and Bob.
I have faced the loss of two parents, heart break, financial insecurity, health issues and the illness of my wife. I know through God's Spirit, Alcoholics Anonymous and the fellowship of the men I have grown to love and depend on anything is possible.
This is only part of my story but it is enough for now. I will write more soon.
