Blew a .33 on Sergeant Long’s Breathalyzer Then Drove to Two More Bars for Nightcaps 🥴 — Jack C.

name is Jack and I am an alcoholic. This is some church basement you got here, Kent. I first came to Founders Day in 1997 and I sat someplace up there in the nosebleed seats and I thought, my goodness, how does anybody ever get down to the podium? And well, if you just go to meetings and you suit up and you show up and you do the deal, all kinds of things happen in Alcoholics Anonymous and so here I am. I want to thank the Serenity Singers for your performance this evening. I was only able to come for the last part, but you guys are terrific. I want to thank the committee for allowing Kent to invite me to be here this evening. I think it's real important that all of you who are listening to this, both here in the arena and at the satellite locations, know that you are responsible for my being here because if I say anything that offends you in the next two and a half hours that we're together, I want you to take that up with Kent because he is responsible for my being here. Don't take it up with me. I think it needs to be said, I think most of you know this, but I am not a spokesperson for Alcoholics Anonymous, nor am I an expert on Alcoholics Anonymous. As has been indicated here earlier, our book says that I am to share with you in a general way what I used to be like, what happened, and what I'm like now, and I will attempt to do that. I will try to share with you my experience, strength, and hope. I may share with you some of my opinion, strength, and hope. What can I say? Me as an alcoholic, I'm really don't like being told what to do, and I generally do the exact opposite. So if you have a cell phone with you tonight, by all means, turn it on, and especially if you're looking for that liver transplant, and I would request that you put it on vibrate, and that way you can enjoy your incoming call, and you won't disturb the rest of us. I began to drink when I was about 14 or 15 years old. I started to drink when I was about 14 or 15 years old. I started to drink when I was about 14 or 15 years old. I started to drink when I was about 14 or 15 years old. I started to drink when I was about 14 or 15 years of age, and I'm sure alcohol did for me exactly what it did for you. It made me feel like I fit in. I felt that this was indeed the elixir of life. My father was an alcoholic. It was a shame that he couldn't control his drinking any better than he could, but I certainly found it to be a freeing substance that allowed me to do things that I could not do not drinking. As I say, it allowed me to do things that I could not do not drinking. It allowed me to fit in. It allowed me to participate in high school dances. It allowed me to talk to girls. It permitted me to think that I could sing. One time I heard a speaker, a lady speaker, say that when she began to drink that her boobs got big and her pimples fell off. Well, I had the pimple experience. I didn't have the boob experience, but I think you all know what I mean because I think it does for each of us. I think it does for each of us. I think it does for each of us. I think it does for each of us. Pretty much the same thing one way or another. And then we chase that illusion for the rest of our lives until we get to Alcoholics Anonymous. You know, I've learned at Alcoholics Anonymous that there are really two groups of people as far as alcohol is concerned. Those who can drink it and those that can't. I'm one of them that can't. I tried to prove I was one that could. I just can't. I want to give a special welcome to the those of you who are here tonight or in your first five months of sobriety. Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous. That's where you are, you know. Yeah, it's come to this, I know. We already know a great deal about you here. For instance, we know that if you're in your first five months of sobriety, 2007 has been a lousy year. Well, let me encourage you to stay here because there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. There's absolutely nothing you can do about it. There's absolutely nothing here that is going to harm you. Out there, we die. In here, we get to live a new way of life. The only time that I've ever had any pain associated with my recovery in Alcoholics Anonymous, it has been as a direct result of my resistance to the program of the Alcoholics Anonymous. It's been my insistence on doing it my way, and my way is a very painful way. So just stay here. I want to thank you. I want to thank you. I want to thank you. I want to thank you. Stay here and do it our way, and I can guarantee you what the book guarantees you, and that is a life where you can live happily and usefully whole. I would like to tell you that alcohol did not interfere in my life when I began drinking, but in all honesty, I have to share with you that I spent five years in high school. A series of bad breaks and misunderstandings for sure, but five years nonetheless. I used to like to say that it was because I wanted to have a solid academic background before I went on to college, but the truth is, alcohol at an early age interfered with my life to the extent that I spent five years in high school. Now, my ego requires me to tell you that I did go to two years of community college and got a bachelor's from the University of Maryland. I had a summer job, and this is one of these transforming events in my life. My good friend Bill and I had decided that we were going to quit our jobs, and we were going to take my car. We got 12 cases of beer, and we were going to drive to California. And the day we were to leave to drive to California, his father said he couldn't go. I was crushed. I had quit my job. I got a car with 12 cases of beer in it. I got a pocket full of money. Well, what's a guy going to do? Well, if you know anything about the state of Maryland, we have a little piece of our eastern border, which is on the Atlantic Ocean. And so I decided I was going to quit my job. I was going to quit my job. I was going to quit my job. I would go to the ocean. And I went to Ocean City, and I stayed in a basement of hotels for free, where people I knew were working. I got to go eat at restaurants and have leftover restaurant food at the end of the day. So I didn't have to pay for room, and I didn't have to pay for board. I drank my 12 cases of beer, and I had my pocket full of money to continue to drink through that month. I enjoyed my time in Ocean City so much that I determined that I was going to quit my job. I decided that I wanted to go to work in Ocean City. But I'm a keen observer of my surroundings. And I noticed that it really didn't matter if you were a lifeguard or a beach boy or a waiter or a waitress or a bartender or a clerk. It didn't make any difference what your job was. If you drank like I drank and acted like I acted, over the course of a summer, there was a good chance that you were going to get arrested. Now, I did observe that there was one group of people working in Ocean City who were not getting arrested. And these were the members of the Ocean City Police Force. So I became an Ocean City police officer. I'm going to put my watch up here, not because I can really see it or I pay any attention to it. I just think it gives hope to the newcomer. I go down to Ocean City, and they give me a boardwalk beat, and I'm walking that beat. And with a matter of a minute, I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. And I'm walking that beat. Within the first week, it is clear, I possess a very unique talent which comes in very handy if you drink like I drink. And that is, I can spot an underage drinker from 100 yards away. And I would identify my suspect. I would approach them and determine indeed they were underage. I would ask them what they had in the cooler. They would tell me, it was Coca-Cola and some tuna fish and a loaf of bread. I would ask, would you mind opening the cooler? Oh, certainly not. They would open the cooler. There was a Coca-Cola laid out in a nice neat row. There was the tuna fish, the loaf of bread. And then I would reach way down in the bottom of that cooler, and up came the Budweiser. And if you happen to be that underage drinker, your life has just changed forever. Because you're going to, I know that you think that you're going to college. But you're not. You're going to jail. The military is not going to take you. I am going to take you to jail. And at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning, I'm going to call your parents back in Baltimore. And I'm going to tell them that you have been locked up in the Ocean City Jail. And they have to come down and bond you out. You want to offer me an alternative to that? What did you have in mind? Confiscate the beer? Well, that's certainly a worthy suggestion. But if I confiscate the beer, I'm going to have to confiscate the cooler. And if I take the cooler, I get the Coca-Cola and the tuna fish. You're okay with that? Okay. I'm going to write your name in my official Ocean City police log. And don't you, you've got to give me your word. You're never going to do that. I'm going to do this again. All right? You promise? Okay. You're free to go. Now, it's real hard to walk a beat if you're dragging behind you a cooler full of beer. So I had to work out an arrangement with my lieutenant and my sergeant that they would come with their cruiser and they would pick up the coolers as I collected them. And at the end of the shift, I would give them the whiskey and the wine and I would keep the beer. And since I wasn't drinking whiskey or wine at that time, I would keep the beer. And since I wasn't drinking whiskey or wine at that time, it seemed like a fair exchange. And if you came to Ocean City during that summer and you needed a cooler, I'm your guy. I had a great summer in Ocean City. I drank every day. I never bought anything to drink the whole summer. And I didn't get arrested. And that's my definition of a good summer. So I had such a good summer, I went back for a second summer. And they gave me a squad car, lights and sirens. It certainly expanded my territory. It was one of those big old Ford Crown Victorias, you know, those big trunks. And you can get like three bodies in there or six coolers. And so I really didn't need my lieutenant and my sergeant all that much, but we still kept the same arrangement. And I had a great summer. I drank every day. I didn't buy anything to drink the whole summer. And I didn't get arrested. So I went back for a third summer. Now, the third summer that I was a police officer, it was three o'clock in the morning, and I was on the beach highway, and I stopped a guy for drunk driving. He was obviously drunk. I had him out of the car. I was writing him up. And he said to me, you don't know who I am, do you, officer? And I said, no, I don't. He said, well, I am the state's attorney for Worcester County, the county you're standing in right now. And I said, well, I am the state's attorney for Worcester County, the county you're standing in right now. And he said, well, I am the state's attorney for Worcester County, the county you're standing in right now. Well, I'm a college kid. I don't know what a state's attorney is. I've got no idea what they do. I've never heard of them. I've never seen one. So I said, well, good for you. Sign the ticket. So he signed the ticket. There was a fellow that didn't appear to be drunk in the car. I let him drive. And at the end of my shift at eight o'clock, I pulled into the parking lot at the police department, and there was the chief of police. And he said to me, quarterman, he said, bring that uniform citation book and come on up to my office. Now, these were the first words that the chief had spoken to me all summer. Now, I thought this was a good thing. I thought I was about to get recognition for a job well done. Long overdue recognition, I might add. And so I went up to the chief's office. And when I walked into the chief's office, there, seated right inside the door on the couch, was the guy I gave the ticket to. And the chief says, give me that ticket book. And I gave him the ticket book. He opens it up to the ticket. He hands it to the guy on the couch. The guy on the couch whips out his pen, writes across the ticket, case dismissed, and signs his name. It was at that moment that I decided I wanted to be a lawyer. And if I could become one of those state's attorneys, I definitely wanted to be a lawyer. I wanted to be one of them. So I went to law school. There are a lot of smart people in law school. I was not one of them. Law school interfered with my drinking. I could only really drink on weekends. But I got out of law school. And I, my wife, I met my wife. And she and I returned to Hagerstown where I'd grown up. And I'd been, began to practice law there. And I think I'd been practicing law since. And I became aware that the state's attorney's office had a position for an assistant state's attorney, a vacancy. So I went right over. Knocked on the door, said, here I am. Answered to your prayer. Signed me up. When do you want me to begin? Now, what I'm about to tell you is what I think I heard them say. And I'm sure you understand. because some of you, like me, hear things which are never said. I don't know why that is, but this is what I thought I heard them say. What? Are you some kind of idiot? You just got out of law school. You don't know anything. You've never been in a courtroom. You've never impaneled a jury. You've never examined a witness. You've never tried a case. Get out of the office. That's what I thought I heard them say. In truth, upon reflection, I think they said the job's been filled. I heard what I heard, and I was hurt. I was wounded. I was angry. I now know that I left there with a resentment, and I think we all know an alcoholic with a resentment can do a lot. In our community, like your community, I suspect our prosecutors are elected, so I went out and found them. I found a lawyer who wanted to be state's attorney. I ran his campaign for state's attorney. He got elected state's attorney, and he made me deputy state's attorney. Now, when I got in that office, I found that we had a serious deficiency. We had no badge. There's no point in being a state's attorney if you can't have a badge, because when you get a badge, you get a badge case, and when you get a badge case, there's a clear glass scene place where you put your driver's license. So when they stop you, and they ask, I want to see that license and registration, and you open up that badge case, and you show them, well, they don't want to see the license. They want to know what kind of badge that is. Oh, the badge officer? Deputy state's attorney, Washington County. Oh, officer, no offense taken, sir. I'm just a couple of miles from home. No, no, I understand that you're just doing your job, really. And frankly, I really do appreciate the professional courtesy, and I will hold it down. Thank you very much. And you have a nice night also, officer. Thank you. Now, some of you may be getting a little insight into why I've never been arrested. But it gets better. My boss, the state's attorney, was supposed to be appointed circuit court judge. The governor had told him he was going to appoint him circuit court judge. And if he got to be circuit court judge, then I was going to get to be state's attorney. Well, I don't know how it is here. I don't know if you're in Ohio or where you're from. But sometimes the local state senator sticks his nose in where it doesn't belong and screws everything up. And that's what happened here. And my guy didn't get appointed circuit court judge. Somebody else did. Now, I was disappointed for my friend. Make no mistake about that. But I was very upset that I didn't get to be state's attorney. But I may not be much, but I'm all I think about. And so, while having some adult beverages with some like-minded friends of mine, we determined that we needed to show that state senator a lesson or two. So somebody needs to run against him for the state senate. So I ran for the state senate. I didn't know that the state senator was going to abandon his wife and children and run off with the secretary from the appropriations committee and move to Florida. But he did. And I got elected state senator. Now, in Maryland, when you get elected state senator, they give you a license plate. And it says, state senator. Now, this is an aid to efficient law enforcement. Because when they come up behind you on that interstate, and they got those overheads going, and they get close enough to see that license plate, they turn those overheads off. They pull up alongside, they turn that interior dome light on, and they toot. Beats me. Hi, Senator. Hi, Trooper. Hold it down, Senator. Okay, Trooper. And that way, you don't have a bunch of state police tied up with the members of the House of Delegates or the Senate along the side of the highway when they could be off arresting real criminals. So, that guy who got appointed circuit court judge, he didn't like the job. So, um, he resigned. And I went over to see the governor, and I said, Governor, I would like you to appoint my friend, the state's attorney, appoint him circuit court judge. And the governor said, you know, there was a lot of adverse publicity surrounding that appointment several years ago, and I recognize that you are the state senator, but I am not going to appoint your guy, circuit court judge. However, if you'd like to be circuit court judge, I'll appoint you. Well, it's a 15-year term, and we only had two in my town, so it doesn't come around all that often. So I became a circuit court judge. I know, it's kind of frightening. Now, I think I told you my father was alcoholic. And as a circuit court judge, I want you to know that AA and our community in Washington County, Hagerstown, Maryland, underwent a trial. It was a tremendous membership growth under my leadership as circuit court judge. But I knew what to do with people like you. I tried to be helpful to the Bar Association whenever I could, and one night they were having a continuing legal education program on the prosecution and defense of drunk driving. And Sergeant Long was going to be there with his breathalyzer, and they needed somebody to drink the beer. Somebody who was impartial, unbiased, fair-minded, so I volunteered. And they brought out a tray that had six cans of beer in it, all iced down. And I asked the guy, I said, what's that? He said, that's the beer for tonight's program. I said, you do realize that this is a two-hour program, and you've only brought six beers. He said, well, we have plenty more. And I said, well, you better bring it out here, because I'm not going to drink any warm beer, so go ice some more up and bring it out. So they did. And so they started the presentation, and I commenced to drink, and every 15 minutes I'd blow into the breathalyzer. And, you know, you start off with a .04 or a .05 and bump it up to a .09 and then a .13 and a .18 and then a .10. And then a .22 and a .28 and then a .30 and a .33. And right after I did that .33, they called upon me to put on my part of the program, which I'm told was pretty good under the circumstances. And after the program was over, I said to the guy who was the chairman, I said, who's going to drive me home? He said, what do you mean? And I said, well, I just blew it up. I just blew a .33 in Sergeant Long's breathalyzer. I can't go out and get in my car. He said, geez, he said, we never thought about that. I said, well, I'll tell you what. I said, I'll go into the hotel bar and I'll have a couple of drinks, and when Sergeant Long's gone, you come in and get me. And so I did, and they came and got me after Sergeant Long left. And I went down to the Broad Axe, and I had two or three drinks down there. And then I went over to the cellar door, and I had two or three drinks over there. And then I went home, and that was like an evening of social drinking for the judge. And I loved to drink. I loved everything about drinking. I think Faye said this afternoon, if alcohol had done for me and continued to do for me what it had done back when drinking was fun, you know, I'd still be drinking. You know that drinking with no problems. Or at least. No perceptible problems. Well, maybe some problems, but not bad problems. The bad problems came later. I mean, we know what bad problems are. So I loved everything about it. I liked top shelf. I liked bottom shelf. I liked imported. I liked, you know, domestic. I liked, I didn't really care for wine with a cork. I didn't mind. I liked the screw-off tops. Just, you could throw the tops away. You didn't have to worry about it. And, but if you gave me a drink, I would have given it to you. If you came up to me with a brown paper bag and you shoved it at me and said, here, Jack, take a pull on this, I would never ask you what was in that bag. Because there's no reason for me to ask you. You would not have offered it to me if it wasn't good. It's not good stuff. You know how, you know how you have some folks over for a cookout, a barbecue, or a night of playing poker or something, and then you're cleaning up and you go around, and you're picking up the cans, and, you know, oh, this one has a little something in it. Oh, what was that? A little cigarette butt. Oh, yeah, there's some cigarette butt drinkers in here. Yeah. My people. I love the gin martini. I love those great big olives with those big pits that you can get with gin martinis. They're just, I mean, they're just gin martinis. I just love gin martinis. But I had, I got, I got to tell you, I had a really, had a really bad gin experience one time, and even today it's hard for me to go into a pine forest, you know. My beverage of choice was Jack Daniel's Black Label on crushed ice with a twist. That, that was my, my personal favorite. So, it was, it was April the 7th, 1982, and a local lawyer, and myself had determined that we were going to go out and get drunk. Now, we, that wasn't what, that wasn't what I told my wife. I told her I was going out to dinner. But he and I both knew that our intention was to get knee-walking, snot-flying drunk. That's what we were going to do. Now, I know that some of you, like myself, have been negligently over-served from time to time. And that happens. But this was deliberate. There was no accident about this. And we did a good job. And we ended up in a local bar. And had I known that this was going to be my last drink, if I had known I was going to have to come to Akron, Ohio, and tell you about this, I definitely would have ordered something else. I mean, it is, it is embarrassing for me to have to stand here this evening and to tell you, that my last drink of beverage alcohol was Tia Maria. How do you think I feel? I know some of you feel sorry for me. Some of you are saying, what is Tia Maria? Well, if you're thinking about going back out, don't go back out for Tia Maria. Choose something else. But in my defense, I have to say, my drink, my last drink came from a tainted bottle. And the reason I know, it was a tainted bottle, is because on the way home, I got sick to my stomach. And that's not part of my drinking experience. And my drinking experience, if I was down at the Broad Axe shooting pool, and I started to get a little full about 10 or 11 o'clock at night, I'd go out behind a dumpster, and I'd throw up, and I'd go back in, and I'd shoot pool. Now that throwing up is part of drinking. That's all part of drinking. Or, if I'd been out on a Friday night, and Saturday, and Saturday morning, I'm on my knees, hugging that porcelain altar that so many of us have in our homes, that's part of drinking. I mean, that just goes hand in hand with drinking. Have any of you discovered anything remotely close to the feeling of cool porcelain against a fevered brow on a hangover morning? Oh, man. Can we identify with that? Yeah. Oh, man. My wife's a schoolteacher, and she teaches elementary school, and as you, probably in your community, like our community, those elementary school children are just, they're just germ-infested. And the teachers bring home those germs to the families of the teachers, and I got up the next morning, I was shocked I had flu. I couldn't believe it. But I went to work, because we go to work if we can, and the next day was Good Friday, so the courthouse was closed, so I didn't have to go to work, and my flu was getting worse, and I had that upset stomach that frequently comes with flu, and on Saturday, I developed that lower tract distress that you also frequently get with flu, and I think, you know, if you have that lower tract distress combined with that upset stomach thing, that will hone your decision-making down to a fine edge. And I didn't know whether to sit or kneel or kneel or sit, and on at least one occasion, my wife says I made the wrong decision. But if you want, you can talk to her about that after the meeting. But I'm going to go on. Sunday was Easter Sunday. Monday, they put me in the hospital because I was dehydrated from all of that kneeling and sitting that I'd been doing. And on Monday night, my abdomen became distended, and they performed an emergency laparotomy on me, and they opened up my abdomen, and they found it to be full of gangrene or peritonitis, and while they were trying to clean that up, my kidneys quit, my pancreas was digesting itself, my liver was enlarged and out of whack, and my respiratory system quit. So things weren't looking good for the home team. So I spent three weeks in intensive care in the Hagerstown Hospital, and my condition continued to deteriorate, and since I was the youngest circuit court judge in the state, they put things in the newspaper like, you know, judge has flu, judge in the hospital, judge condition worsening, judge placed on critical list. So I was becoming a public relations nightmare for them, so they decided to send me to Johns Hopkins, and I was encouraged by this because I knew people would go into Johns Hopkins who had lived, and I knew people who had gone to the Washington County Hospital and they had died, so I was feeling pretty good about going to Hopkins. They told my wife, on the other hand, that they were sending me to Hopkins to die, that there didn't seem to be anything that could be done for me. Now, they did get me off the respirator before I went down there, and I got down to Hopkins, and for two weeks they did everything but hang me by my thumbs, and my belly button birthday is on May the 14th, and on May the 13th, the good doctors there at Hopkins came and told me they had done everything that they knew to do for me and that they didn't know what else to do, and so they were going to give me a day of rest. My kidneys still weren't working, my pancreas is still digesting itself, my liver is still out of whack, and so I turned 40 in Johns Hopkins Hospital, and two weeks later, I was discharged from the Johns Hopkins Hospital. My kidneys started to function, my pancreas stopped digesting itself, my liver started to respond. And when you're in a hospital for seven weeks like that, they like to talk to you before they let you go home to give you the do's and don'ts so that you don't get it again. But if you've got an undiagnosed illness, they don't know what to tell you. And in my case, they told me, don't get it again. Don't get it again, Judge, because it's likely to kill you. So I took the position then, I take the position now, that it's much better to survive an undiagnosed illness than to die of a known cause. That was my position then, that's my position now. As I was just getting ready to walk out of the doctor's office, one of those doctors said to me, Judge, could we ask you one more question? And what's that? Do you drink? Where'd that come from? Well, I'm a lawyer. Well, I used to be a lawyer. I mean, when I was a lawyer, I had to drink with clients, I had to drink with other lawyers, I had to drink with judges. Now that I'm a judge, I have to drink with other lawyers, I've got to drink with other judges. Of course I drink. It's a professional obligation. How much do you drink? Not much. Why? Well, alcohol really does a number on your kidneys, and your kidneys have just barely recovered. And your liver, I mean, you drink, alcohol just really knocks the heck out of your liver. And then your pancreas, there's nothing that damages the pancreas like alcohol. So we'd like you to not drink for a while. How long? Well, we would like you to not drink for a year. Hmm. Well, my last drink was April the 7th, and this is May 28th. I guess I could probably do that. And they said, No, you don't understand, Judge. This is Memorial Day weekend. We want you to not drink for a year from June the 1st. Now, I think there are people in this audience tonight who already have recognized and identified the injustice that these doctors were trying to perpetuate upon me. Because I was getting no credit for my seven weeks of continuous sobriety. Well, I want you to know I fought for those seven weeks. And we ended up with a compromise. And the compromise was that I would not drink, until next April the 7th. And then if I thought that drinking had anything to do with the pain and suffering that I just endured, that I would not drink until June the 1st, and then I could drink whenever I wanted to. Somebody up there? We can get their attention. Okay. So I walked out of the Johns Hopkins Hospital into the most insane period of my life. If your problem is alcohol, you quit drinking and live happily ever after. No problem. But if your problem is alcoholism, like my problem is alcoholism, and you stop drinking, that's when the problems show up. That's when the problems show up. And I walked out of the Johns Hopkins Hospital not drinking into the most insane period of my life. When I was drinking, my wife and I were separated on three different occasions. And there were women involved. And after I stopped drinking, my wife and I were separated on three occasions, and there were women involved. Now I think that's pretty clear evidence that drinking had nothing to do with any of those six separations. But alcoholism had everything to do with all six of those separations, and we didn't know it. Now if I don't screw this thing up, My wife and I are going to be married 42 years come this August. Honey, why don't you stand up so they can see that you're a real person. Now, you're probably going to want to give her a chip by the time this leads over. I am living proof that you don't have to be divorced to be an Alcoholics Anonymous. In fact, I've never gone to prison. I've never gone to jail. I've never had a drunk driving arrest. Of course, you know why that happened. And I've never lost a job before because of drinking. I don't have any children born out of wedlock. I don't even have a good tattoo. And you're probably wondering why Kent invited me here at all. But here's why I'm here. Because I'm an alcoholic and I'm not drinking. And an alcoholic who's not drinking, well, don't really applaud that because that's terrible. That's called don't drink, go to meetings. And that's not good. We kill people with that. You know, if you have told anybody don't drink and go to meetings, please stop doing that, okay? Here's what you do. Tell them don't drink, go to meetings, get a home group, get a sponsor, get a big book, take the steps. That saves lives. So I walked out of the Johns Hopkins Hospital with no program whatsoever. Not drinking. Certifiably insane circuit court judge. I have two men in Hagerstown. One who is an active member of Alcoholics Anonymous who ran a treatment program for our hospital. And a second, Ken, who was a lawyer who I'd hired out of law school. I hired Ken, well, first because he's a good lawyer. But I hired him also because he drank like I drank. And we tried a lot of cases together and we did a lot of drinking together. And then when I got appointed circuit court judge, and Ken didn't have my leadership and guidance, his drinking got out of hand and he ended up in Alcoholics Anonymous. Go figure. So we got Bob and Ken who are watching me die of untreated alcoholism. And believe me, there is nothing wrong with me. I'm not drinking, therefore I'm not alcoholic. I think we all know alcoholics have to drink. I'm not drinking, by definition. I'm not drinking. I'm not alcoholic. I might be a little testy. I might be a little on edge. I might be a little bit prickly, okay? But if you just leave me the hell alone, you'll find out that I'll get along with you just fine. But you better do it my way, okay? We're not doing it your way, okay? There's nothing wrong with me. I am fine. I am absolutely fine. Did you hear me? I'm fine. Well, my dad, on July the 3rd of 1968, had been walking by the Methodist church. And the pastor had put on the board out front, Don't buy a fifth on the third for the fourth. My dad went to Alcoholics Anonymous that night, and he never drank again. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Alcoholics Anonymous, if for nothing else, for my father's life. He died with 15 years of continuous sobriety in this program. And I carry with me... his 15-year token. In some small way, I can pay back to Alcoholics Anonymous what you all did for my dad. And I hope I make my dad proud as a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. Well, Bob and Ken knew my dad, and they knew my dad had died with 15 years of sobriety in Alcoholics Anonymous. And Bob came to me and he said, Jack, we have this book in Alcoholics Anonymous. We call it the big book. And I was wondering if you'd like to read it to find out about your father's disease. Well, I think you and I both know, if he'd have said, Jack, we'd like that we suggest you read this book so you can find out what's wrong with you, I would have never read the book. I was curious to find out about my dad's disease. So I read the big book. And no surprise to me, my dad's in there. He's a real alcoholic, as defined by the big book. So he's in there. But what I hadn't counted on was I was in there. You know, in that part, in a doctor's opinion, it says that when alcohol is removed from the alcoholic, we become restless, irritable, and discontent. That was kind of an understatement in my case. But I certainly identified with that. And then there's a place in Bill's story where Bill has been out of town's hospital one more time, and he's... trying to maintain his sobriety, and he goes into the bar to make a phone call, and two hours later, whiskey arrives into his head. He's pounding on the bar saying, how could this be happening again? And how many times did I go over to the Brodak's? I'm only having a ginger ale. Well, okay, I'll have one beer. No more than two. Because I told my wife I'll be home at 5.30, no later than 6. And the next thing I know, it's like 8 o'clock. And I can't go home now. How many times did I do that? Now, I'd like to say I did it maybe once or twice, but I didn't do it once or twice. I did it four or five times a week, month in, month out, year in, year out, for a number of years, and I never saw it until I read the big book, Alcoholics Anonymous. So I was willing to concede that, possibly, there was a remote, a chance that I might have contracted a very mild case of alcoholism. Caught it just in time. Mild case, nonetheless. Well, that's all Bob and Ken needed. Bob and Ken came to my chambers every Friday, that is, my judge's office, every Friday and brought their big books. And they and I read the big book, and they wrote the big book together. And they would explain to me the importance of what we had read. And then I would explain to them as Jack sees it. And we had some very stimulating intellectual discussions about the contents of the big book. I am dying of untreated alcoholism, and I don't know it. Ken and Bob know it. And every Friday, week in, week out, month in, month out, they came religiously to share with me the program of recovery of Alcoholics Anonymous against my resistance. Ken and Bob knew. One, they knew that I was dying of untreated alcoholism, but they also knew, they knew what the solution was. I didn't know that they knew something that I didn't know. And that I had known that they knew something that I didn't know, and that they knew that I didn't know it, and I didn't know what it was that they knew that I didn't know. They knew I would have been very angry about that. But they were very persistent because they knew that just because I didn't know at that time that there wasn't going to come a time that when I would know what it was that they knew that I didn't know. And by the time I found out what it was that they knew that I didn't know at that time, by the time that I knew what it was that they knew that I didn't know, by my knowing it, then I would know what it was that they knew that I didn't know, and it would be okay. Now, if you followed that, you're in the right place. And if you're here and you found that to be somewhat confusing, you're still in the right place. It just means you don't know. I couldn't go to meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous in Hagerstown, because I already told you I wasn't going to go to meetings with those people. But I was willing to go up to Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, down to Martinsburg, West Virginia, and over to Frederick, Maryland, to attend some meetings. And I would go late, and I would leave early. But I would spend some time in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. I had then, I guess, what I like to call cake-mix recovery. By that, I mean, if we went over here... I went over here to the grocery store, and we bought a box of Duncan Hines red velvet cake mix. You can trust me on this. On the back of that box, Duncan Hines has a three-step program to produce a red velvet cake. And I'm the kind of guy that if we had a box of that cake mix here tonight, I could give it to you to read out loud, or I could read it out loud to you, or we could pass it around the room and read it out loud to each other. But having read the box, I'm looking for my cake. I haven't done anything except read the box. But I'm looking for my cake. And that's what I was doing in Alcoholics Anonymous. Every Friday, I was reading the big book with Ken and Bob, and we were discussing it, and I was doing nothing except for showing up in some meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, arriving late, leaving early, and sitting through most of the meeting with my arms folded and my jaw locked. Just waiting for you to say something to me. And I'm looking for recovery. I haven't done nothing. That's cake mix recovery. On December the 22nd, 1989, it was the Friday before Christmas, and I couldn't, the courthouse was closed, so we couldn't have our big book meeting. And so we had lunch together that day, that Friday before Christmas, and we dispersed to the Four Winds. My wife and I were separated at that time. I had an apartment. I went back to my apartment. There was a box propped against the door of my apartment. It was one of these Hickory Farms kind of boxes you see at Christmas time. Somebody sent the judge a sausage or a cheese log. Very nice. I was very appreciative. I took it into my apartment. I was taking messages off the answering machine, trying to figure out how to open up this Hickory Farms. And I found where it was sealed with the tape, and I cut the tape with my car keys, and I was listening to the answering machine, and I lifted the lid of that box, and boom! A federal appellate judge had been killed ten days before by a bomb that had been sent to his home. And a lawyer in Savannah, Georgia, had been killed five days before by a bomb that had been sent to his office. And I could smell the gunpowder, and I knew that I had opened a bomb. And there was a fire, and I tried to put it out, and I couldn't. And I went out in the hallway and pulled the fire alarm, and a neighbor came with a fire extinguisher. And I went back into my apartment and went to call 911. And when I pushed the buttons on the phone, I became aware that part of my right hand had been blown away. And after I hung up the phone, it felt like somebody was trying to pull the trousers off my hips. And I looked at the phone, and I said, And I looked at the phone, and I said, And I looked down on the floor, and I was standing in a puddle of blood, and it was just getting bigger and bigger and bigger. And I knew I was in serious trouble. And my neighbor had put the fire out, and he asked if there was anything else he could do, and I asked him to get me a towel. And I opened my trousers, and I did not have the courage to try to look to visualize the wound. I just put the towel where I thought I'd been injured and put my back against the wall. And I said, And I was pretty confident that I was going to die on that floor that afternoon. And I was never going to see our three children again. I was never going to see my wife again. And I could feel life slipping away. And all those AA meetings that I had gone to late and left early, the only thing that I had really learned, as you know, some AA meetings don't start on time. But many AA meetings start with a serenity prayer. And I had learned the serenity prayer. And the only tool I had laying on that floor that afternoon, alone, terribly frightened, powerless, was to pray the serenity prayer. And I prayed the serenity prayer, and I prayed the serenity prayer, and I asked God to grant me the serenity to accept this thing. Which I could not change. And to give me the courage to change what I could, and the wisdom to know the difference. And I prayed the serenity prayer, and I prayed the serenity prayer. And I can't tell you if it was the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, or eighth time through that prayer, but I can tell you this, that God came. I was overcome by a sense of well-being and peace and serenity and calmness, the likes of which I had never experienced before. But I had no idea if I was going to live or die. But I knew that whatever happened, it was going to be okay. It would be okay. I could die on that floor that afternoon, and it would be okay. Well, the police and the firemen and the EMTs all burst into my apartment, and both my eardrums had been blown out, so I really couldn't hear what they were saying. But they were trying to talk to me, and I tried to respond to them. And when I did, this tremendous wave of fear swept upon me. And I said, I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. And so I told them, you guys do whatever you have to do, and I'm going back to doing what I had to do. And I went back to praying the serenity prayer. And as soon as I did, the serenity returned. And I prayed the prayer, and they cut all my clothes off of me, except for my red and green Christmas socks. And they strapped me on a board, and they took me down and stuffed me into an ambulance head first. And our local television station was there, Johnny on the spot. And they got a picture of me. And I said, I'm going to die. And they took me to the emergency room, and they prepared me for surgery. And they couldn't find my wife, and they couldn't find my girlfriend. But they did find my sponsor, Ken. And they let them come back to where I was being prepared for surgery. And Ken held my hand, and he prayed with me, and he prayed for me. And they took me up to surgery, and they removed a rather large piece of my body. And they took me up to surgery, and they removed a large piece of shrapnel, not resting against, but in close proximity to my femoral artery. And I think we all know that had my femoral artery been nicked, you'd have a different speaker here tonight. And I don't know how shrapnel knows to stop passing through flesh. I can only report to you what happened to me. And they took me up to a recovery room, and the next day when I came to, my sponsor Bob was seated at the foot of my bed. And Bob was smiling. And I noticed that Bob was smiling. Now let me say this. It's good to have a sponsor. It's really good to have a sponsor. I say that because sponsors see things differently. I don't know how they do this, but they just see things differently. They've got a different take on things. If you're doing the I sponsor myself, the ism of alcoholism, for God's sake, don't do it another minute. If you can get a sponsor before you leave this hall tonight, get one. If you're doing the I sponsor myself, if you've got to wait until you get back to your home group, get one. If you're new to sobriety and you don't have a sponsor, get one. For God's sake, you're not getting engaged or married. You're just getting a sponsor so you can live. But don't listen to the idiot who brought you to AA in the first place. That was the very best thinking I could do was to get myself into AA. That's the best I ever did. The best. And then I got here and argued with you people about how to save my life. As if I knew what the heck I was doing. Get a sponsor. So there I am. There's Bob at the foot of my bed smiling. And I said to Bob, Bob, I notice that you're smiling. What are you smiling about? He said, oh, Jack, nothing really. He said, I just think it must be wonderful to know that you can't be harmed. Bob, somebody just tried to kill me. Oh, I know that, Jack. He said, I understand that. That box that you opened. It had four pipe bombs in it. He said, one pipe bomb is more than adequate to kill a human being. Two pipe bombs is redundant. Three pipe bombs is around the bend. Four pipe bombs, Jack, you have made somebody very angry. Man has done his very best to kill you. There is no rational, logical explanation of your survival. You are here by the grace of God. Good to have a sponsor. I wouldn't have come in here without a sponsor. I wouldn't have come in here without a sponsor. I wouldn't have come in here without a sponsor. I wouldn't have come up with that in a million years. He said, God has worked for you, Jack. You've been spared for a purpose. I said, really, Bob? And what purpose might that be? He said, I don't know, Jack. He said, I really don't know what God's will for you is in that regard. But let me tell you this, Jack. I know that it's God's will for you to be a sober member of Alcoholics Anonymous. And that means you're going to have to pray that third step prayer with either Ken or I. You're going to have to do that for yourself. You're going to have to do the fourth step inventory. You're going to have to take a fifth step with me or with Ken. You're going to have to do the sixth, pray the seventh step prayer, make the eighth step list, begin those ninth step amends so you can live in 10 and 11, 12 and become of maximum service to God and to your fellow man. It's good to have a sponsor. I wouldn't have come up with that either. You know, in Bill's story, right from the jump in this book, it keeps repeating over and over again the very same theme. If an alcoholic fails to perfect and enlarge his spiritual life through work and self-sacrifice for others, he could not survive the certain trials and low spots ahead. Well, I come to Alcoholics Anonymous, little Johnny One Note. Me, me, me, me, me, me, me. What about me, me, me, me, me? That's all I think about is me. And I'm being offered a way of life that directs me to be of service to you. I don't like you. I like a few people. I like my wife and my kids. I like my girlfriend, my backup girlfriend, my girlfriend for special occasions. I like them. They complain about my wife. My wife complains about them. But I am managing all of this as I come to you. And the big book says that we're driven by a hundred forms of self-delusion. And I just gave you one. And the self-delusion. as the big book talks about is not about the delusional thinking that goes on while we're drinking. These are a hundred forms of self-delusion that I engage in while I am stoned, cold, sober. I cannot differentiate the true from the false when it comes to managing my own life. I tell myself lies. I believe them to be true. I act on them. I get hurt. Other people get hurt. It is good to have a sponsor. It's real important to have a sponsor. Bob knew that I had this resentment towards God based upon the fact that when I was 14 years old, I was praying that my dad would stop drinking. And my dad promised he would stop drinking. And I thought, this is an answer to prayer. And the next day my father got drunk and I closed the door on God. And I was shocked to read in the big book that many of us at an early age thought we had closed the door on God. And I was shocked to read in the big book that many of us had closed the door on God. And I thought I was the only one. How could they write that in a book that was published before I was born? How could they know that about me? Because I'm alcoholic. I'm alcoholic. And Bob said to me, Jack, how old were you when you prayed the prayer? I said, 14. He said, how old were you when your dad stopped drinking? I said, 26. He says, Jack, do you have any idea what 12 years means to infinite God? Good to have a sponsor. Hadn't thought of that yet. I said, I don't know. He said, 12 years to infinite God, Jack, is a nanosecond. It's an infinitesimal period of time. And point of fact, Jack, you got very fast service. What are you complaining about? He asked me what my understanding of God was. And I said that God, I thought, was a punishing, vengeful, wrathful God who was sitting on a throne on an eye, keeping score. And I had so many black marks against my name by the time I was 14 that I could never recover. And he said, what kind of God would you like to have? And I said, I'd like to have a loving, caring, gracious, forgiving God who wants only the best for me. And he said, Jack, you can have that, but you're going to have to do 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. Good to have a sponsor. In the big book, Alcoholics Anonymous, it says that the problem for the alcoholic is not the drinking. It's the thinking. The problem for the alcoholic centers in the mind. I don't know what you do in your minds. All I do in my mind is think. I don't know what you do in your mind. All I do is think. Think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think, think. That's all I do. I am real happy that there's not a loudspeaker on my forehead so you can hear some of the thoughts that go through my mind. Simply how I think is my problem. S-H-I-T. Simply how I think is my problem. I came to Founders Day the first time. 1997. I came back in 98, I think. I stayed in a dorm way down the road here. And in that dorm, not like these nice new dorms where you have a bathroom in your room, you had to use a gang bathroom. And if you didn't get in there, you know, early in the morning the place would be trash. So Sunday morning I got in there really early. And I'm in there and this guy comes in and I said, Hi, I'm Jack from Hagerstown. He said, Oh, I'm Woody from Baltimore. He says I come to Hagerstown all the time. I thought he was a truck driver. I said, Woody, what do you come to Hagerstown for? He says, Me and my sponsor, we bring a meeting up to that prison in Hagerstown once a month. And I said, Woody, I'm embarrassed to talk to you. He said, Why? I said, I live 10 miles from that prison. I don't know a single person who takes a meeting in there. He said, Well, would you like to go with us? Woody, I'd really like to talk to you about that, but I got to. I'll talk to you. I'll see you later. And I got back to my room and I told Glen, Glen about that. And he said, Did you get it? Did he get your telephone number? And I said, No. He said, Well, then he'll never find you, Jack. He said, There's 15,000 people here. He'll never find you. But for those of you who are here on the package plan, you know, you go over there in that dining hall and they got that drill sergeant over there who makes you sit where she tells you to sit. And we had had three meals over there. And of course, if you're on that package deal, you know, part of the excitement is who's going to sit in the chair across from you because you go down, you go down, you go down, and then they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start to come in and they start filling in the other side. So there we are. I mean, it's Sunday morning now and we're waiting to find out who's going to sit in front of Jack. Yeah, Woody. Not to the right of me, not to the left of me, but right in front of me. Last thing in the world is a retired circuit court judge. I do not want to take meetings into the prison. But I recognize a God shot when I see one. So I've been taking meetings into prisons. What can I say? On a really, really cold day in western Maryland, I saw an ad in the newspaper that said, be a lawyer in paradise. The Republic of Palau, an island nation in the western Pacific, was looking for assistance attorneys general and it was cold in Hagerstown. So I applied. I went home. My wife said, anything interesting happen at work today? I said, not really. I applied for a job in the Republic of Palau. She said, where's that? I said, I don't know. It's just warmer than it is here. To make a long story short, I went to a long story short, I got called to the embassy of Palau in Washington, D.C. They said, you applied for a job as an assistant attorney general. Our attorney general has indicated he does not want to renew his contract. Would you be interested in interviewing for the job of attorney general? Does it pay more than the assistance? Yes, it does. I'm interested. To make a long story short, I became the attorney general of a country called the Republic of Palau. Now, you might ask yourself, how does an alcoholic judge from western Maryland become attorney general of a country? In my case, I answered a newspaper ad. I don't know how it's going to work for you. I called New York and I asked them if they have any meetings in Palau. They said, no, we don't. I flew off to Palau. They sent me a starter kit, everything you need to start a meeting in a small town or a small country. I'm in Palau 72 hours. I find out that there actually are meetings up at the National Hospital. I called this guy named Bill Perry Clear. I said, I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go to Palau. I'm going to go Palau. I said, you didn't tell New York. He said, I didn't know. I had to tell New York. I said, well, you didn't really have to tell them, but they like to know these things. He said, why don't you come to the meeting tonight? So I'm getting ready to go up to the meeting. I got my t-shirts laid out. You want to make a nice impression when you go to your first meeting in a new country. I got a black t-shirt that says, first things first. I have no idea why I even brought a black t-shirt to a tropical climate. You do not wear black. In a tropical climate. But this t-shirt is saying, wear me, wear me, wear me. So I put it on. And I went up to the National Hospital and I found the meeting. And there were three Americans there and four Palauans. And they welcomed me to the first things first group of Karora Palau. And Mary said to me, how do you know, how did you know to wear that shirt? And I said, Mary, I didn't know. But I know a good God shot when I see one. I was where I was supposed to be doing what I was supposed to be doing. I don't know why I was sent there. I don't know why I was there. And I don't know why I was returned home. Although Faye knows, Faye figured it out. And if I have a minute, I'll share that with you. So many wonderful things have happened to me in Alcoholics Anonymous once I got out of the way. I used to tell Bob and Ken, like I was telling you, I graduated from college in four years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law school in three years. I graduated law Graduated law school with honors. And Ken explained to me that we got degrees on rectal thermometers, and you know what we do with those, Jack. I thought that was a little harsh to be saying that in a judge's office. But the truth of the matter is, you can be way too smart in this program. I had to dummy up. I had to learn to just follow the darn directions. The longer I'm in Alcoholics Anonymous, the less I really do know. It's amazing. But here's something I know. I know, without a doubt, that each and every one of us who are in this room tonight who are alcoholics, each and every one of us who are in this room tonight in Alcoholics Anonymous as a direct result of prayer. Somebody prayed. Maybe a lot of somebodies prayed. And if you're here tonight, and you don't like me saying that you're here because somebody prayed, I don't care. It's a fact. I mean, you don't have to like it. It's just a fact. We are all here because somebody prayed. Now, here's something that I know with absolute certainty. That this group of people, assembled here tonight, have never been assembled together before in the history of the world. And we will... We will never be assembled again, ever. And our book says, there is one that has all power. That one is God. May you find Him now. Right here, right now. Most people I know outside of Alcoholics Anonymous go through their entire lives wondering if God exists. And you and I get to go through our lives on a daily basis watching God work. We are a blessed people. This is a pamphlet called A Member's Eye View of Alcoholics Anonymous. I hope you've all read it. I think it's the finest piece of literature outside of the big book that we have. That is my opinion. If you have not read this pamphlet, you have no opinion. So get it and read it. At the end of this pamphlet, it says, This coming Sunday in the churches of many of us, there will be read that portion of the Gospel of Matthew, which recounts the time when John the Baptist was languishing in the prison of Herod. And hearing of the works of his cousin Jesus, he sent two of his disciples to say to him, Art thou he who is to come, or shall we look for another? And Christ did as he so often did. He did not answer them directly, but wanted John to decide for himself. And so he said to the disciples, Go and report to John what you have heard and what you have seen. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the dead rise, the poor have the Gospel preached to them. Back in my childhood catechism days, I was taught that the poor in this instance did not mean only the poor in a material sense, but it also meant the poor in spirit, those who burned with an inner hunger and an inner thirst, and that the word Gospel meant quite literally the good news. A number of years ago, two men, Bob and Kim, working singularly and together, maneuvered me into Alcoholics Anonymous. Tonight, if they were present and they were to ask me, Tell us, Jack, what did you find? I would have to say to them what I now say to you. I can tell you only what I have heard and seen. It seems the blind do see, the lame do walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise, and over and over again in the middle of the longest day or the darkest night, the poor in spirit have the good news told to them. God grant that it may always be so. My name is Jack. I am an alcoholic. My sobriety date is April the 7th. Thank you for letting me share.