Liz Bailey from Hollis, NY shares her story at the 12th Annual Mississippi Old Timers Roundup in Jackson, MS in 1998. Sober since July 11, 1952, she came in at age 31 after 19 years of drinking that began at age 12 when her mother had her sieve rice wine through cheesecloth. Oldest of five, raised in Manhattan, her father was a pitiful drunk who eventually hung himself at Central Islip. She married Mr. Bailey at 17 on January 3, 1939, and describes it as the sorriest day of his life.
Her drinking progressed through bathtub gin sales, burned legs on a frozen chicken, broken fingers, busted ribs she blamed on Mr. Bailey (who never touched her — he just stepped over her), blackouts lasting up to three weeks, and a suicide attempt at a second-floor window that Mr. Bailey invited Nana Baca to let her complete. After a drunk where she missed an insurance-lady visitor she had been anticipating, she screamed to Higher Power in her basement for two days and called AA. At her first meeting, two women behind the coffee counter said she didn't look like an alcoholic — she nearly bolted until a man caught her shoulder.
Her sponsor of 28 years told her AA don't need you, Liz Bailey, but you need AA, and sit on that pot or get up off it. She cried for five years. She spoke for Bill Wilson's 28th anniversary at the Hotel Commodore at 10 years sober. She left her $60,000 home for a room and kitchenette rather than drink. She made amends to Mr. Bailey, nursed him until his death August 12, 1989, and he left her the house. Her son Dennis was shot and killed at 28. Her oldest son Richard hasn't forgiven her in 46 years. Her daughter has had six mental breakdowns and Lou Gehrig's disease.
At 77, 31 years an arrested cancer patient, throat cut ear to ear, she still travels constantly. Her key came at 20 years: seek Higher Power first. She prays at 2, 3, or 4 AM before speaking to anyone. The only person she hasn't made amends to is her bartender — she bought him a new Cadillac every year sitting on the bar stool. Her message: attitude plus gratitude equals recovery, and the gift has to be given away to keep it.
You know, I'm taught when I'm wrong, promptly admit it. I wish the young lady with 44 years would please stand up and give her another round of applause because I really want to apologize to you. I didn't have to do what I did. I...
You know, I'm taught when I'm wrong, promptly admit it. I wish the young lady with 44 years would please stand up and give her another round of applause because I really want to apologize to you. I didn't have to do what I did. I don't think that was so nice of me, what I did. And when I'm wrong, I promptly admit it because I plan to stay sober. I'd like to say good evening to everyone. And I'd like to do like I usually do. Whoa! You light up my life. Oh, yes, you gave me the hope when I didn't know there was any hope for me. Good evening to all. My name is Liz Bailey. My anonymity's been shot to hell for a long time. I don't run around telling who's in the fellowship and who's not in the fellowship. But I'm one of the most grateful alcoholics you ever could lay your eyes on. I'm so grateful that I live in the day and time of Alcoholics Anonymous. And, you know, I drank for a period of 19 years before I came here. But I want to tell you, there was a minister preaching. He says, if you drink alcohol, you're doomed to die. And a little old lady down front, she said, Amen. He said, now, if you smoke those cigarettes, you're doomed to die. And a little old lady, she said, Amen. He said, now, if you chew tobacco, she said, look at that. He's going to stop preaching and going to Medlin. So I'm going to go to Medlin. You know, we hate the truth, but the truth will set us free. We don't like the truth. I'm the oldest of five children. I was born in Brooklyn, raised in Manhattan. My dad was a pitiful drunk. I always grieved about my dad's drinking. I'd see the policeman beat him and the blood would spatter. I'd see my neighbors hit him with frying pans and the blood would spatter. I watched my dad come out of Mother Cabrinha Hospital wrapped like a mummy many, many times. I'm ever grateful that I was in the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous when my dad hung himself out at Central Islip. Till this moment, I believed if I had been actively drinking, I would have tried to drink myself to death. Because I really loved my dad. He was just like me, and I was like him. My mom, I've never seen her take a drink in my entire life. And for many years, I wished I could give her two drinks and bring her to hell in here. Because she could have used the whole 12 steps and 12 traditions. My mom is gone 11 years, three days short of 95. So she had a good life. And my mom made my first drink at the age of 12. And when I look back, I was a stone alcoholic at the age of 12. I do not know anything about social drinking or crossing any lines. I've seen a hell of a lot of lines, though. But I don't know about crossing any. And, you know, I remember so clearly when she made this rice wine in large crockery. She received the ingredients from the welfare. And she left myself and a little girl named Marion to sieve this rice wine through cheese course. And to show you the difference, Marion sieved and sipped two drinks and she went home. And, you know, I sieved and sipped. I'm only 12 years old and I'm sieving and sipping. And I'm sieving and sipping. And I sieved and sipped and I put on a drunk at 12 that was a drunk. And my mom lectured to me all night long. I went out in the street the next day shaking my little self, telling my friends, whew, what a ball I had. I don't even remember what the hell happened. And that began to be the pattern of my life. If you didn't drink and get drunk and pass out and don't take a drink like that and sip it for a half hour with me, you'd get on my last nerve and I didn't bother with you. And so now they told me I'm beginning to sell King Kong booze. The man made it in the bathtub next door. I bought it by the gallon. And I sold it for 40 cents a cream pitcher. Now they told me to take mayonnaise, olive oil, butter, cream, line myself up so I could drink plenty. You know how they tell you to eat a good meal? That King Kong was so powerful it went all through the mayonnaise, the olive oil, the butter, the cream. So I stopped taking that sick stuff. But I drank plenty of booze. I made good money. And at a certain hour I had to be padlocked into a side room for my protection because I'm drunk and out of it. One night I'm laying out the window and I live one flight up and I see this sharp dude. Oh, Lord, he was so sharp I almost fell out the window. I said, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I said, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I said, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I said, I said, I said, I said, But then he had a roll of money. And I said, Oh, there's a live one. I was always looking for a live one. You know that. I don't look for no deadheads in AA either. I look for live ones in AA. I don't deal with the deadheads. Not me. And so I went running downstairs to latch on to this cute dude. And he had a five dollar bill around a lot of ones. But he's so cute I didn't care. So I started going all up downtown. From uptown, downtown to Manhattan. I gave everybody a play so they'd give me a play. So at the age of 14, I was drinking and partying and hanging out. You couldn't tell me I wasn't a woman. So I asked my mother if she would sign for me to marry him. He was 10 years older than myself. And she said, Oh, no, dear. Over my dead body. She said, That man will have you out in the street and you'll live a terrible life with that man. And I found out something about myself at the age of 14. I said, Don't you ever, but never tell me what not to do. Don't do that. AA has suggested everything to me. Why I say. If AA, nobody in AA has ever told me what to do. And so I quit school at 14, took sleep in jobs. I was drunk every Thursday and Sunday. At the age of 17, I left New York with this very man. And I went to Baltimore, Maryland. And on the third day of January, 1939, I was standing in the courthouse being married. And I was crying my heart out. And the minister stopped my wedding ceremony. He said, My dear young lady, would you mind telling me just what you're crying about? I said, Well, at last I got him. I'm going to be honest with every one of you in this room tonight. That was the sorriest day of Mr. Bailey's life when he said, I do to Liz Ulrich. Mr. Bailey never stopped crying from January 3rd, 1939, till he went home with the Lord, August the 12th, 1989. That was a sorry day for that man. Now, I came back to New York with the marriage license. Now, I'm 77 now. Could you all picture what I was at 17? Whoo! Whoo! Lord, I was down with it, I'm going to tell you. Whoo! I met 77 last Saturday, August the 15th. And the motor's running. I'm so happy to learn that age is none of my business. Don't get into the age. So, I came back to New York with that marriage license. No more mama, no more neighbors. Nobody's going to tell me how to live. And I started this drinking. Now, I married a non-alcoholic. He was too cheap to be an alcoholic, to tell you the truth. And so, poor man. I used to tell him, Shut up if I'm drinking. Shut up if I'm coming off a drunk. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. And he wouldn't speak to me. Look at this. He ain't talking to me. Let me get out of here. The man couldn't win any way he did it, you know. So, I kept on. Now, I have to have a drink to wash, to iron, to cook, to clean, to talk. Then, I knew I was in trouble when I started taking the bottle out on the front stoop. I knew I was in trouble. But you've got to remember back then, nobody was talking about alcohol or alcoholism. There was nothing that you have today back there then. And I'm watching me go down. I suffered with guilt and remorse. So much. Because every time I came up off a drunk, here I am. I've done it again. I've done it again. And I don't want to keep doing it. I married Mr. Bailey. And he was a good provider for me. He happened to be a furry of girls. And every time I had a period of dryness, he'd make me another for a coat. And one year, he made me the most gorgeous leopard coat you ever laid your eyes on. He threw a party for the job and all. And he brought the coat home. And he threw it out on the bed. And I looked down at that leopard. And I hated it. I gave it away. I said he made it so he could spot me anywhere. Sick. And I'm going to tell you something. You don't know how sick you are until you get sober. And once I got sober, I wanted that coat. See? But I didn't know I was that sick at the time. Believe me. And so, again, I continued to drink. And I said to him, maybe if you drank with me, I wouldn't want to drink so much in Rome. Because now when I pick up a drink, I love it. I don't even call it a home. There's no love there. Had every material thing any woman would want. Never got me sober. Never kept me sober. And here again, I said to him, maybe if you drank with me, I wouldn't want to drink so much in Rome. He buys a bottle of Gordon's gin. We lay up till 11 o'clock at night. The bottle got like this. Now, if you're drunk like me, you know what happened. I burned it. Because that's not going to take me through the night and be my morning drink. I hit him with my elbow. I said, would you run around and get another bottle? He said, not me. I had enough. You know I wanted to kill him. Don't you bet he? I wanted to kill him. You ever see an Indian on a rampage at 2 in the morning? Up, dress out, zoom. Aren't you afraid to go underneath the Long Island Railroad? Who's thinking about the railroad? I was getting to Sutton's Bar and Grill to get my Coca-Cola bottle filled and to close up the place. I watched me going down. I began to hit hospitals. Girls, don't you ever fry a frozen chicken drunk. Don't do that. I hit the grill. I reached over and burned up both of my legs. And the good sisters had to keep telling me about coming to an alcoholic clinic on a Tuesday morning. Went in this air and out. Broken fingers. You can see my arms are all sliced up. Every time I came in, fell down the basement, hit the basement steps. Boom. When you hit that concrete, I couldn't get up. I swear Mr. Bailey whipped me. Oh, that man whipped me while I couldn't get up off this floor. The man never touched me. He just stepped over me and went to work. I had to learn that when I got sober. But until I got sober, I blamed him for my busted ribs. You see, but the man didn't touch me. I kept on drinking. I switched from brand to brand. Now, I have three beautiful children. And the guilt and the remorse is too much for me for what I'm doing to these children. Because now I'm waking up one day to three weeks at a time away from that house. And that's not a good thing for a mother to feel and a wife and a woman. And I'm going. Going down. And I don't know what to do. So one morning, I woke up with my head coming off my body. I took Anacin, Salka Salsa, BC. I put a raw egg in the beer. I was trying to do everything to get my head straight. I couldn't get it together. I reached over and grabbed my Bible. Maybe I'll find the answer in the Bible. And, you know, Mr. Bailey passed my room and he said, Put that Bible down, you hypocrite. Put it down. Twenty minutes to an hour, you'll be so drunk you'll be slapping a kid down. He was right. Nobody got in the way of me getting a drink. And nobody, but nobody gets in the way of me staying sober. It's the same difference. And so, again, I didn't want to hear his mouth. He kept his mouth going. And my head is coming off my body. He says, Oh, you'll be grabbing a cab. And the cab drivers, please take somebody else's cab. Took me three days to clean up my cab behind you. Who does he think he is? I paid 50 cents to get in that cab. Don't tell me who to take. Or he was right. I'd be swinging a corner. And now my head is coming off my body. And this is the first time I thought of suicide. I literally ran and jumped up in the second floor window. And as I'm ready to throw my body down into the yard, there's an old lady downstairs, Nana Baca. And she spots me standing up in the window. Mr. Bailey! Mr. Bailey! You better get her. She's going to jump. And I watch his head come out the kitchen window. I watch his hand come out. He says, Nana. Will you let that bitch jump? He said, I'll be rid of all my problems. All my troubles. Please let that bitch jump. Well, I wanted to know who the hell did he think he was. I guarantee every one of you I got down out of that window. I got back in the bed. And I pulled the sheet over me and I slept that one off. I continued to drink. And I'm going down. I'm going down. And I don't know what to do. And of course now, thank you. Mr. Bailey came to me one day. He said, you're the nicest wife when you're sober. Drunk, you're a Jekyll and Hyde. Why don't you try this AA? Oh, Lord, what did he say that for? I laid his soul to rest. I'm not going into the flowery words. But you know what? I told him to do with AA, don't you? Okay. All right. Because I've had to work on that. You know that. So Mr. Bailey did the wisest thing. He walked away from me and never mentioned AA again. If he had beat me with AA, I don't think I would have ever made it here. But he told me, Dr. Graniger had told him, you go home and tell Mrs. Bailey. She's going to drink herself to death. She'll drink herself into a mental institution. Or she will drink herself into Alcoholics Anonymous. And once you tell her that, you keep your big mouth shut and take care of Mr. Bailey. Praise the Lord and hallelujah and amen. As I said before, he didn't mention AA again. In the meantime, I'm watching me go downhill. Downhill. And I don't know what to do about it. Don't know what to do. And so my last drink, I'm drinking with hard two-fist drinkers in the VFW Hall on 110th and Merrick Road. I just told you I couldn't stand nobody who took a drink and sipped it for half an hour. You got on my nerves. And so I like people who were drinking like I was drinking. And I remember this lady was coming to sell some insurance for the house. And I got up and I straightened up. It was in July. And I left the dusting even to last. And the phone rang and it was one of the guys from the post. I heard his voice and I banged the phone down. He called me back the second time. I said, oh, don't bug me. There's a lady coming here and I haven't seen her since I'm eight years old. And I really want to see her. I said, oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I banged the phone the second time. I remember going to the store and when I came back, he was on the phone for the third time. And, of course, he said to me, would you please get a cab? I'll introduce you to the people and I'll put you back in the cab and I'll send you home to your company. Because I was telling him I really wanted to see this lady. I know me now because once I pick up the drink, I can't tell you what's happening behind it anymore. No more. And so what happened is that I get the cab. And I go over to the post. The booze started lining up. The jukebox is going and I'm singing, you always hurt the one you love. The one you don't want to hurt at all. Give me another drink. Smile if you're happy. Give me another drink. I told you I'm 77 and I haven't seen that lady till yet. I have forgotten what the lady looks like, to tell you the truth. I woke up. I was in one of my son's twin beds. And my second son was always good to me. Always had the pan ready for me. And he also nursed me back with soups and salads, the second son. And now, when I woke up, at the foot of the bed stood my mom and Mr. Bailey. And my mom's got her head going like this and she is screaming to the rooftops that somebody has done something to her. Somebody done something to her. And I look over at Mr. Bailey and he's got his head going. And he's saying, no mom, no mom. Nobody's done anything to her. She happens to be a very sick girl. Well, you know my name was Bitch, don't you, man? Okay. He said I was a sick girl. Something went all over my body. I can't explain it till today. But I got up out of the bed and I went to the basement. And I stayed in the basement for two days praying to die. I really wanted out. I looked at my oldest son. He was 12 years old at the time. And I said, Richard. I can't live like this. This is not the way I want to live. Look at this. You can't depend on me for anything. I'm going to go up on the Long Island Railroad. I'm going to jump in front of a train. And I'm just going to end it all. And I started screaming, oh God, oh God, please help me. I have never screamed to God so as I did that second night in that basement. And if you call upon your higher power, he will answer you. Because see? God spoke to me just as clear as I'm speaking to you. Try this AA that your father has told you about. And I took the telephone books down. I called up AA. They didn't have anyone to send me. And I went in. There was only 150,000 members when I came to AA. And they didn't have anyone to send me. And I went into Manhattan. I'll never forget. I got going up the stairs. I said, the hell with AA. Go get me a drink. And then I said, no. You've taken the bus and the subways. You've run a couple of blocks. Try to get up there again. I got into the middle of the landing. And as I went to turn to go downstairs, a lady looked down the stairs. She must have been watching me from the front window. And she said to me, are you having trouble? I said, yes, ma'am. I was having trouble getting up those stairs. And I ran up the stairs to her. And she escorted me into the front part of the office. And she started to tell me about her life. Oh, my God. Who talks about themselves like this? My mother says, put it in a closet. Put it in a dresser drawer. Shove it under a rug. Don't you dare go out and tell nobody about the black eyes, the fights in your house. And I'm saying, oh, God, why don't she put this stuff in a garbage can and make sure she got a lid on it? Because I would never tell you about myself before AA. I didn't have time anyway, to tell you the truth. She says to me, it's the first. Drink. I said, oh, come on, sweetie. I've been drinking for 19 years. She said, Liz, when you pick up one drink of any type of alcohol, even down to cough medicine, it's only a matter of time that a compulsion sets up into you that you have to go all the way. Boy, she hit me. I've seen myself take two drinks on a Monday, two lousy drinks on a Tuesday. You're looking for me. Wednesday, I'd go to Gert's department store, buy a fifth drink, the whole fifth. Nothing happened. Thursday, I run back there and get another bottle. Friday, I'm knitting without needles. Have any of you knitted without needles? But Friday, I'm walking up and down, and I'm knitting. And I've got to go get that drink to get me back in focus. And she says, we do it with a sponsor. Now, there is two and a half million of us or more. Don't you ever tell Liz Bailey that you can't find a sponsor. There's got to be somebody good for you in these rooms. So you search for a sponsor because it is a we program. We can do together what you can never do alone. And don't ever tell me you fired your sponsor. You ain't hired nobody in the first place. So I don't want to hear about I fired my sponsor. The nerve of you. And you're supposed to grow as friends. And so, again, she said, we do it with meetings, meetings, meetings, meetings. Back in the day, we had a lot of meetings. Back in New York, I'm hearing that you guys are making a year. And then you're leaving AA. That's a very sad, sad thing to do. It's a sad thing because we don't graduate here. The progression of alcoholism is still going on inside of me. I am not cured by no means. And never will I ever consider myself cured. I don't care how long I'm sober. You see? And here again, she gave me the choice of two meeting places. And I got my hair done. I don't know about you girls, but alcohol used to go right straight to my head. You know? My hair would be standing up like the afro before it even got here. And Mr. Bailey would give me money for clothes, and I never looked too tough. So I'm going to AA now, so I get my hair done. And I buy a little two-piece blue suit. And I walk into my first AA meeting. And there's two girls behind the coffee counter. I'm only... I'm mimicking them. I'm not making fun of them. And as I walk towards them, they looked up at me and said, You don't look like an alcoholic. I said, What the hell did I get myself into? Let me get the hell out of here. And I started running out of that room. I was running. I wasn't walking. I was running. And we used to keep two people at the door. And once you got in, you did not get out. You didn't have this walking in and out like you are doing here in this room. They didn't do that. Before the meeting, we got our coffee. We did our talking. We went to the laboratory. And when a speaker got up to speak, nobody moved. Nobody. We respected that speaker to the highest. That's the AA that I know. And that's the AA that I'm praying to come back. For the past ten years. I want it back. I want it back. So when I started out the door that night, this man slapped me on my shoulder. He said, What's the matter with you? Where are you going? I said, Those girls said I don't look like an alcoholic. I don't know what an alcoholic looks like. I'm about to lose my mind, my home, my children, and everything through drinking. He said, Have a seat, sweetie. You're in the right place. And they put. They put two of these tables together that night. And each one of the members sat around and shared their strength, hope, and experience with me. And it's for the grace of God. But for the grace of God. Alcoholics Anonymous. Al-Anon. Al-Ateen. I've been in Al-Anon 42 years. Lois and I used to speak together. And there again. OA, BA, TA. The only A I won't speak at is Sex Anonymous. I don't want my sex life on tape, honey. To go across. You know what I'm saying. That's the only one. Because Seattle, Washington called me to speak on Sex Anonymous. And I just won't do that. No, I still have a family, you know. Yeah, yeah. So, I came in July the 11th, 1952. At the age of 31. But I was really 13. Mentally, physically, and spiritually. Beaten to a bottom. That I just couldn't go any lower. And I adopted myself a tough sponsor. When I'd whine to this sponsor, she'd say to me, AA don't need you, Liz Bailey, but you need AA. You all got to know I cried for five years here. The first five years, I cried. And then again, I'd whine to her and she'd say, Sit on that pot or get up off it. And she didn't say it that nice, you know. But I'm glad that lady belted me. We don't treat everybody alike. If she had a pamper me, she'd a pamper me right out the door. She was my sponsor for 28 years. I now have another sponsor. And my sponsor has a sponsor. I will not be in AA without a sponsor. Again, it's a WE program. And I, too, need somebody to talk to. I don't have all the answers. And I don't want all the answers. And again, they told me not to stay sober for anybody but for myself. I want you to get that message. That message real strong. Because if I had to stay sober for my mother, I would have been drunk, drunk, drunk. My mother did not like me telling you that I was an alcoholic. My mother was an ordained minister. And she used to say, Good morning, Reverend Bailey. Where were you speaking at next? And then she took 29 and a half years before she could accept me in AA to tell me to stay with them A's, whatever they are. And as you can see, I don't plan to leave. These A's, these A's have been my life. Mr. Bailey couldn't stand me sober. He took the first 10 years, and I mean he worked overtime, to get me back in the streets of New York. I didn't come in here through a bedroom. I came in through the streets. And again, thank God, 36 years ago, I had the honor and privilege of speaking for our late co-founder, Bill Wilson, on his 28th anniversary at the Hotel Commodore to 2,700 people that night. I had 10 years of sobriety. I asked Mr. Bailey to sit up on the daisies with me, and he told me to get myself another husband for that night. My girlfriend said, You're going to ask him again? I said, Hell no, I'm the speaker. So I never bothered him anymore. And that was in August. In October of the 5th, he said to me, What time do I have to be there tomorrow? And you know what you guys did? You lined up and you thanked him for me, where he was so used to my neighbors telling him, Why don't you get rid of her? I used to hear them say to him, Coming home from work, get rid of her. You do everything for her. She has everything. Get rid of her. And from the switch that went around at the Hotel Commodore, you lined up and thanked him for me. And that man couldn't handle that. He couldn't handle that. So when he got to the house, he banged every pot on the stove and he screamed, I got to get rid of you. I can't stand you and this sobriety another minute. And I used the third and the 11th step. That's our job. I'm a decision maker. No man in here makes a decision for me but God. And God spoke to me as clear as I'm speaking to you. If I pick up one drink, I don't have me. If I pick up one drink, I don't have Mr. Bailey and I didn't have him anyway. And when I pick up a drink, I'm not in that house. I'm waking up in unfinished basements, in the parks, behind barbershops. God knows where I'm waking up. I remember one of my neighbors even pulling me on the carpet. She says, I'm ashamed to live next door to somebody. I'm ashamed to live next door to somebody like you. I bought this house to get away from people like you. What is the matter with you? And I told her I suffered with my nerves. And she suggested that I drink rum. Isn't that nice? This is before I came into the program. And to show you, I left this lady standing in my little kitchen and I ran around to the Empire Liquor Store and I bought a bottle of rum. I'm still asking how did I wake up in Brycliffe, New York with the rum when I live in Jamaica, Long Island. I don't know. But a lady took me in up there into her place off the street and I became a booze fighter. And that's horrible when you're fighting this booze. Oh my God. And I remember sticking it in the coffee in the morning, calling it Coffee Royal. Hiding the bottle. I don't care where I hid it, I found it. When the lady came home, I'd be erping and brrping and the poor soul didn't know what to do for me. She sat me down by the fire one night. She says, you know, you're a lovely person, but drinking is your problem. She said, I'm sorry. And she filled me with so much guilt and remorse because I'm up there fighting the booze. I don't know where I'm at. I'm away from my three children. And I said, I'm going to sit in a Catholic church all day. I'm not going to touch a drop. And you know what happened? Four o'clock I walk out to church. I walk right over into the bar and I'd say to the guy, give me a drink because I'm going to peel this lady's business started. You all have lived that. And I'd say, give me the second drink because I've really got to get this lady started. And he'd give me the third free drink. And I don't believe you should ever walk out on a free drink. That's not nice. Then I got to buy one back to look good, you know. And by the time I get to the fourth or the fifth drink, to hell with her and her potatoes. And I had to tell you this story because that was really the pattern of my life. I would start out all the time to do something good. And by the time I picked up that drink, I never did what I had to do. And the guilt and remorse all over me. It almost kills you. But I remember so clearly that I left Mr. Bailey 36 years ago. I moved to a room, room and kitchenette. I walked out of a $60,000 home. And I could care less about it as long as I'm sober. I learned to love Mr. Bailey in my sobriety. I looked at how he kept the house, he kept the children, he kept everything together where he could have cashed it all in. When he died, I went back to take care of him 12 years ago. I'm so grateful that I did and made amends for some of the damage I had done to him and to my children over the years. I did a lot of damage. I really did. And I have to face it honestly. And so he told me it took him 47 years to let me know that he loved me. But I did get it before he died. He left me the house, paid for it. Isn't that nice, girl? Yeah. Right wins out. Right wins out. I don't care how much he called me a bitch. He was honey and sweetheart to me. That sugar gets it, honey. It does. Yes, it does. It gets it. My oldest son still hates me. He let me know over the years that he'll never forgive me or forget me. And I had to come in and learn how to forgive myself for the ignorance of alcohol and alcoholism. And I love my son. He doesn't ever have to speak to me. He's spoken to me about 10 times in 46 years. And nasty at that. So I don't dial for pain. I don't push for pain. I leave him in the hands of God. And I keep on doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm through raising him. He's 58 years old. I wish you mothers would stop raising them young men. Let them out there. Like the birds, let them out the nest. I've seen so much damage with parents holding on to their children. Please, let them go out. And just be a sober mother and a role model as a mother and a father for your children. One day, Richard will come home. Wagging his tail behind me. And I'll be there, sober, for him. My second son was an addict and an alcoholic. Dennis, and here's what I say to you young men. Oh, I love you young men. I don't do nothing with senior citizens yet. I know. I tried to. But I wasn't going to die for that 75 cent lunch. No. I'm really sorry. Back in New York, I stay with the young people. I love them. They give me life. They're everything to me. And I say to Dennis, the right road may be hard, but you'll be the winner. The easy road, the price is heavy. And Dennis was shot and killed at 28 years old. I thank my God that I was in AA and that I didn't have to pick up a drink about it. And I don't cry about him because I don't want to disturb his beautiful spirit, you see. Because he's waiting to open the gate for me when I come in. That I know. My daughter was five when I stopped drinking. She's had six mental breakdowns. She's coming out of the sixth one now. But I've also learned in the last three weeks that she has this Lou Breret disease. And so I'm watching her fail. But it doesn't stop me from doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Because she's in the hands of God. She's his child. And it's his will for her, not her mother's will. Of course, a mother's prayers are powerful. Pray for your child. Pray for your child. Pray for your child. Pray for your children. And leave them alone into God's hands. Please do that. My daughter will be fine. I talk to her every day. She knows that I love her. And you know she's not going to let me whip her. But I'm so glad she doesn't remember me as a drunk. Because she would use it to hurt herself. She's just that type. But she can't fight me. She tries to. She pushes buttons. And I've repented enough from her. So I don't bother with her too tough. But we love each other. Who Dominic terrible. Um-m- все. Mom. From theert. Oh. Rich. Rich. Rich. She's a good girl. Oh, yeah. She makes you rain in my heart. Thanks. Thank you, Ain'tera. I'm happy. Thank you. Thank you. I don't have time for that. And they know I love them. I'm the kissing grandmother and the traveling nanny. So they know me for that. I have two great-grands and one great-grand on the way in October. So I've been on a beautiful journey, one of the journeys that I never dreamt of. And God gives every one of us a gift. Please, dear God, get sober and find out what your gift is all about and then be obedient to it. Mine happens to be running my big mouth. And, you know, when I first got here in AA, when you got 90 days, they wanted you to talk. And there was nothing but men out there. There was very few women in AA when I came. And I wasn't going to get up here and talk. And when I got to six months of variety, two men tricked me into speaking one Sunday afternoon, and I haven't shut up yet. So I've been talking a straight 45 and a half years. But you know what? As many drunks as I've brought into my home and taken care of, he or she, I've never sobered up anybody but me. And I must tell you, it's the gift that has to be given away in order for you to keep it. It's the gift that has to be given away for you to receive blessing. You cannot take this gift of alcoholism and sobriety and sit at home with it. It doesn't work. And you cannot put it, anything, before your sobriety in this program. That doesn't work. I've seen you lose homes, families, and you can't put everything before God and AA. My first five years, I didn't talk about a God because life wasn't treating me nice in sobriety. I've gone through a lot of pain to gain, like I told the girls today. I done been there and done that, and I got the t-shirt. And I really got the t-shirt, you see. And I know about the pain to gain, and I know the fight for the victory that I have come to today. Today, I stand tall with dignity today. I never dreamt that I could say that to anybody. Put my head laying in vomit, not knowing who I was and where I was, and being beaten to a pulp so many times that I couldn't come out of my house for weeks at a time. And came into this beautiful fellowship. And I want to tell you, it'll get so good, it'll scare the hell out you. And when it gets that good, watch it! Because I've seen you all blow it. You don't know how to handle good. And if you can keep an attitude plus gratitude, it will equal your recovery. Find something. Find something every day to be grateful for. Please do that. And thank God that I've been on this beautiful journey, not a destination. I don't never know where God is sending me. I think my next trip is in Louisiana. And then I know I'm back in Canada again. I just came from Canada. I'm constantly hopping a car, or a plane, or a train, or a bus, or a subway. I've never had a car in my whole sobriety. And every night a different white dude picks me up. And... And... And... And... And... And my neighbors get very shook up. From a drunk to this? What is she putting down? And you know, I thank God that I know what I'm putting down today. But I must remember the days that I didn't know what I was putting down. I must never forget those days. Like they say, we will not forget the past. We will not regret the past. But we will not live in the past. Today is the most gorgeous day of my life. I want you all to give Jane a round of applause. Thank you to her and Earl for being such a beautiful hostess with me this weekend. And to all the women that was at the women's meeting today, I thank you with my heart. I got quite emotional with you there today. Because it's so nice to see the women coming into the fellowship and staying. Because I know what's ahead of you on this beautiful journey. And you know, I stay away from anybody who makes me dis-at-ease with myself. The first five years I didn't talk about a God. The second five years I put God in my life. And then the third, I run five year cycles. And the third five years I began to get better. And then when I got to 20 years of sobriety, so I've had nine operations in 41 years. I've been cut to pieces, drunk and sober. And you know, I went up and had three operations in six weeks. And he said, I've got cancer and I'm going to give you six months to live. I said, no, you don't talk to me like that. I'm in a fellowship that teaches me I live one day at a time. I'm now 31 years an arrested cancer patient and my motor's running fine. I hate to tell you, the doctor's dead. I'm not. He been gone. He's been gone. He's been gone. I'm telling you. I went up and had my throat cut from ear to ear. Two glands was taken. I couldn't speak. I said, are you through with me speaking, Lord? It's okay. He brought me back more powerful. I'm really standing up here trying to cool it, keep cooling it, because the power comes within me, comes out so strong that I've seen you all come up here to speak sometimes. Really. And you know, your 11th step tells you the power is within you too. Think about it. It's within you too to carry out whatever God wants you to carry out. And again, I must say this with sincerity. It took me 20 years to get my key to my life, and that is to seek God first and his kingdom and his righteousness. And it has nothing to do with religion. It has everything to do with spirituality because you're made of spirit. You're made of spirit. Okay. That's near and dry. Okay. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And he said, you better seek me first. And I'm sick of you shoving me in between people, places and things. That's how my father talked to me one day in my meditation period. And so 26 years ago, I started making God first. Every morning, you guarantee Liz Bailey's on her knees, 2, 3, or 4 o'clock in the morning before she talks to anybody. Even if you live in my home, I don't talk to you. A man called me the other day before I could pray. I said, hang up, man. I'll get back to you. me let me make my God first because my God is first in my life and you know as much as I fly and go I have to have him with me at all times and I hope to God that I know that I have a primary purpose and that's to stay sober and to try to reach somebody else my daughter says oh there she goes to save the world no I'm not looking to save no world everywhere I go I just want to touch one person because he has taught me that the least I do for one of his children I do for him that's the one and find somebody to try to help if you're going through a bad time that's what you do get out to intergroup answer the phone get out to a meeting and talk to somebody and stay very close to your meetings when you're having trouble with yourself it's a program of growth and also you have to change you cannot come in here until God gives me the directions theatrical instructions and in the Bombing syndrome program well chant for Noel let's pray let's pray for peace health and prosperity abused cross being the oneósterme come into the world is the other way around Nope he's the founder of Jagmeet Viaksha they may be the founder all the way around they keep bringing in and glaring at you at that same time from wherever they lead them That's why that's really important when there are songs and when you may be getting abstinence till you get to church I invite you I don't know age and may also be dois many, many times because the more I'm sober, the more it comes to the surface that I can handle. And today I can admit to God, to myself and another human being the exact natures of my wrongs. I must do that if I want to be free. Free, free at last. Thank God Almighty I'm free at last. Martha Luther King went to the top of the mountain, but I've been damned through the mountain, you know. You can go to the top all you want. I've been right through the mountain. Yes, yes. And you know, I've had to learn how to love me. I didn't know how to love me. I didn't know how to live sober. I never lived sober. And I came in here to live sober, a sober life. And you don't want to be dry. You want to be sober. You don't want to dry drunk. You want a sober life. And you know what happens too. I've only had one person in my whole sobriety in 46 years that I haven't made amends to, and that's my bartender. I sent his children to college. Sitting on the bar stool. I bought him a new Cadillac every year, sitting on the bar stool. I just want to take one of you to Vermont, New York, and show you the house I bought him. It would injure me to give him the two dollars. The place closed down when I stopped drinking. Hasn't been there in 46 years. So who are you supporting? You see? And I've made amends to my loved ones. Thank God for that. Yes, I have. I've lived a beautiful, clean, sober life. And I keep trying to get out of it. Trying to give it away to keep it. And I will go to any lengths for any one of you that ever call upon me. And I was taught never to say no. And when Bill Wilson came out with that sign, I just went crazy. I am responsible. When anyone, anywhere reaches out their hand for us, he wants us to be there. And remember that. And I've been privileged to watch AA grow. Again, like I did at the beginning of tonight, when I'm wrong, I promptly admit it. Otherwise it eats at me. And when I'm right, I shut up. I don't try to prove to nobody where I'm coming from. Three of you hear me in three different ways. And so it's time for me to shut up. I look down. God knows when to shut me up too, you know. He knows. He gives me that little nudge. Just time to shut up. But I want to express my deepest love to every one of you. And please come to hear the other speakers. I've been privileged to be with the other speakers, Al and Kip. And God puts us in a place where we can be together. And we can have a reunion like that. And it's so beautiful when we meet up with each other and be with each other again. Give us this day. Give us this day. Life is full of yesterdays and no tomorrows. And if you can get the 24-hour concept, you've got the best concept of your life. I hope I've touched somebody tonight. And if I've had, I, Liz Bailey, I have not lived in vain. Thank you so much. Thank you, everybody. Thanks for being here. We're in this together no matter what. And let's still have a great time. See you tomorrow. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Discussion
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