Boy, You Seem to Be Suffering from Malnutrition Between the Ears — You Need Some Soul Food – Dennis N.

Hello everyone, I'm Dennis Nance, I'm an alcoholic. It's good to be here. I'd like to thank the committee for inviting me and having me down. And just for the sake of knowing, I've already eaten that goody basket out of the hotel room. I need another one sometime soon. I need to keep my bodybuilding program going. Now, I think Charlie's moved to South Carolina. Where is Charlie? We're going to go find Charlie after this meeting's over with. It's good to be back in the state of Georgia. I see a lot of old friends and Bob and Ruth. And I know Delmar is just worried to death about how things are going this weekend. You know, that does me good. All I have to do is get up here and talk and show up for meetings. And Delmar has to wear and be nervous and shake and chase down Charlie and all that stuff. I tell you, it's good stuff. You know, the story hasn't changed. It's the same story, just a different setting, I guess. You know, I get kind of nervous when I get up here and look at all the people. You know, I get kind of nervous when I get up here and look at all the people. Our people, you know, have those faces and these bright lights. And I spend a few, a couple of times, I was arrested. And they always had those bright lights like that. And they always had those bright lights like that. Those lights make you tell the truth. Better. They'll make your lie a whole lot better, but that's I guess I'll be okay. Anyway, Well, again in close quarters of Bierus city, New Jersey, I've interviewed with some folks in North Carolina who Musikax SEW. I've been talking to a couple of them. It taken a couple of weeks even, but happened to be shots, as they say. or they had four in New Jersey, I've been in transfer keeping them focused so I could catch myself back on the Make Hyeeks택 Channel. Anyway, Jess, I will certainly ask each one of you should try to. do that without sharing my opinions. And a lot of what I say will be my opinions, because my experience is what determines my opinions. And, you know, I found out that, you know, you move in and you come in Alcoholics Anonymous and you size people up. After about 30 days sober, I began to realize that if you're sober and if you're black and if you're 6'4 and weigh 250 pounds, you can have an opinion if you want to. Ain't nobody going to mess with you too much, you know. So I got me several opinions. One of those opinions is that, you know, if you want to be a absoluer, if you want to be brought up in front of all of your kids and your challenges, you have to be considered doing good, okay? And so I began to realize that there was always aצfłoanmizórkiήp moreveachai techn postal service. And I can get 20 pounds, you know, of labor at one meal a day, and the amount of money per mouth is never even half what a full expense is. Garyady. Right. I've been moving throughout the Carolinas. And through these people, through that miracle, my sobriety, or the miracle of my sobriety has taken place. Now, I am very fortunate. I used to say I was fortunate, but I'm really blessed to have encountered this miracle. You see, I got sober at a time in Alcoholics Anonymous when Alcoholics Anonymous was Alcoholics Anonymous. And when I began to go to meetings, I ran into some of these, they called them old-timers. Now, I didn't like them. I called them other things. And these guys sat on the back row, and all of them had 42 waists. And they wore those elastic red and blue suspenders. Those Sears double-knit polyester pants never had a crease in them. And usually they had on red or yellow. They were yellow socks, you know. You could tell their eyesight was getting bad. And they'd sit on the back row, and they'd fold their arms across their chest. And as the meeting would start up, these old guys would start going to sleep one by one. And they would appear to sit back there and sleep until I said something dumb. Then they'd wake up. And they'd start asking questions. Well, questions. Questions I couldn't answer. Questions like, who told you this? Nobody tell me this. I was just smart when I got here. I knew stuff like that. And they'd say, boy, can you find that in the big book? I didn't have a big book. Well, you know everything. You don't read books. And then if you couldn't answer those first two questions, they had another question for you. Who's your sponsor? Obviously, I ain't got one. And so. I'm not going to tell you. These old guys wouldn't do things to you. They believed in doing what the book suggested they do. And these old guys came to see me one night. They appointed a spokesman. It was A.D. Now, A.D. is dead now, but he became my first sponsor. A.D. said, boy, we've diagnosed your problem. And he said, you seem to be suffering from malnutrition between ears. He said, boy, you need some soul food. He said, well, you know, I didn't go through treatment. And I didn't get to taper off alcohol on these pretty little pills and stuff. So it took me a while to grasp things, you know. And I thought about that for two weeks. And about two weeks later, I showed up. I called my buddy Ive. I said, I'll be this guy called me stupid. He said, well, Dennis, I knew that two weeks ago. I said, well, why'd they do that? He said, Dennis, I think it's because you're stupid. See, I realize now that what A.D. was telling me is, you know, I had drank myself to the point that the only way I could feel good is by picking up the very thing that made me feel bad. And the only way I thought I could solve my problems is by picking up another bottle of the problem. I was on the merry-go-round and couldn't see it. You see, another opinion that I have is, My alcoholism is in me. It's not in the liquor store. It's not in the lawyer's office. It has nothing to do with the Howard Patrol or the city police. It's in me. And one of the reasons I believe that is because, you know, I haven't had an alcohol problem since February 1st of 1981. The primary reason for that is I have not drank alcohol since February 1st of 1981. You know, I've never had a rattlesnake problem. I've spent a lot of time out in Oklahoma, but I never developed a rattlesnake problem. And the reason is I stay away from rattlesnakes. You know, I like to jog. Don't like dogs, though. If I notice a dog on that block, I don't go down that block. See, I haven't developed a dog problem because I stay away from dogs. You see, the first thing these old guys pointed out to me is that alcohol don't bother me until I bother it. So the problem must be inside. They set me down there, explains things to me, and said, Son, now, you know, it ain't like you're backing out of the driveway in the morning and alcohol is hiding in the back of your car and jumps around your neck and starts choking you. It ain't like you get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and it's hiding under your bed and trips you and climbs up your back. He said, I bet you every time you get drunk, you go get it. I said, I sure do. See, they said profound stuff like that, stuff I had never thought of. Now, another reason I believe my alcoholism is in me is because when these guys outlined this program of action for me, and that's what they did. They said, Boy, we want you to go to at least five meetings a week. We know what your work schedule is. We know you're married. And they, see, back then, these guys were just a little bit controlling. Now, this is what they did. They just didn't say, Don't drink and go to meetings. They said, Don't drink and go to meetings. They told me not to drink, and they told me exactly what meetings to go to. Had me going to all speaker meetings except one. Told me I could go to that discussion meeting. Told me just not to say anything. They didn't want anybody to know that I knew them yet. And that's what I did. Now, as I began to go to these speaker meetings, I began to hear the miracle of your sobriety unfold. Now, I didn't know anything about these steps. Didn't know anything about sponsorship. But I did know this. I did know that I identified with the feelings, the behavior, and the attitudes. Now, I knew that. Now, I didn't know what to do about that, but I knew that I belonged in alcoholics and office. And this is where I learned what I'm going to share with you today. I was born and raised on a cotton farm up in Cleveland County, North Carolina. I used to say Shelby, but it was so far out in the sticks, it couldn't have been Shelby. At least six miles from the city limits. Now, looking back now, I can see where I've always been afraid of something. I've never felt good enough. Always felt inferior. Just felt dumb and ugly, too tall. Something was always wrong with me. To top all this off, I'm sitting in the middle of this, you know, I'm the third child of seven. Two boys and five girls. Now, I had three of these sisters before my brother came along. Now, I know now that my sisters loved me. But I thought they picked on me a lot. And, you know, they'd do stuff to me like paint my fingernails. They'd convince me that boys didn't paint all their fingernails. They just painted their thumbnails, you know. I mean, I'd go to Sunday school on Sunday. I was right proud. I mean, my sisters took care of me, you know. I'm sitting up in Sunday school on the front row. My thumbs are hand-checked, isn't I? Well, I found out nobody else has it, so I started eating my fingernail polish off. So five minutes in Sunday school, the old folk won't know where that red stuff came from on my lips. I stayed in trouble a lot. And then I remember having to start wearing glasses when I was five years old. And they was old welfare glasses. And I'd wear them all the time. You know, I'd wear them all the time. And I'd wear them all the time. And I'd wear them all the time. The hinges stayed loose on them all the time, you know. And I had one of those eyes. I think it's my left eye, you know. I'd look up, it'd look back down. And I'd look to the right, it'd look to the left. And, you know, I got drunk. That eye was the first thing that got drunk on me. Folks, what's wrong with your eye? I don't know. I can't see it, you know. You know, but, you know. I just never liked those old glasses. And I still couldn't see out of them. The hinges wouldn't tighten up. You're looking over one and under the other one. And then I'm dead with those old bootleg haircuts. You know, I realize now, haircuts didn't cost but a quarter back then. And Dad was so cheap that he wouldn't spend a quarter. He bought him some of those Sears haircuts, the hair clippers. And, you know, I was in the army before I realized. Haircuts. Haircuts didn't supposed to hurt, you know. I realized then he'd been pulling my hair out all that time. But he never could get it right. He'd have it thick on one side and thin on the other. And, you know, if you got them crooked glasses and that one-sided haircut, it kind of balances things out, you know. And, you know, Mom was so proud of her. I mean, she'd come along and say, Eldred, I see the other boys have a part. Can you give them a part? Yeah, I'd give them one. Put one in there. I said, well, that's a little crooked. Can you straighten that out? You just put another one in beside it, you know. So you end up... So here I am in 1959. And I got a one-sided haircut, crooked glasses. You know, and... See, I realize now I was ahead of my time. You see these young guys these days, you know, they got one-sided haircut, four or five parts in their hair. Got their pants pulled down by halfway to butt. I'm just 20 years out of date, man. I'm futuristic. See, today I would have fit right in. But back then it was not cool. It was not cool. So I grew up feeling weird. I realize now, one of the best things that ever happened to me is I was exposed to some good spiritual training. My dad was superintendent of Sunday school. Had a big... Had a big... Had big fat hands and long arms. 265 pounds. Size 13 triple E shoes. And I'll tell you, his arms were as fast as a frog's tongue. I'd be sitting on the front row of Sunday school waiting to make my move. Now, I don't know what I was going to do. But I knew I was going to do something. Just as soon as he quit looking. See, I believe I sat in Sunday school and developed the very character defects that would keep me consumed by my illness for years. The first thing I learned is how to manipulate folks. I learned how to act like you want me to act. Say what you want me to say. Do what you want me to do until you quit looking. And I did what I wanted to do. Oh, man, I could quote those scriptures. You know, those folks would be shaking their head. And they'd say, Elton, is that your son? Yeah, that's him. He's a fine young man. Didn't impress Dad much. Dad just... It's like Dad could always see through me. Dad would often ask me, Boy, you ever going to be any count? I never answered that question because I didn't plan to be no count. I wanted him to quit looking so I could do some of my no-count stuff. And he'd quit looking. I'd make my move. And Dad was a thumper. He'd thump me. Pow! And you know, it kind of hits you like a stun gun. You phase out. And then you come back. And he'd be standing there looking. Yeah, I got caught again. He'd figure it out. But now, the other thing I learned in Sunday school is I learned how to memorize stuff. I could memorize stuff that I couldn't even explain. But now, I got to memorize those scriptures and sprout them up. I remember by the time I was a teenager, I didn't even need to read a Sunday school book. All I had to do was sit down in Sunday school, start thinking, start remembering, then I started lying. And oh man, they loved it. Well, see, I realize an alcoholic's anonymous. That good memory and that ability to manipulate people works two things for me. You see, I've been around alcoholics almost long enough now that when you ask me, how am I doing, I can smile and shake your hand and say I'm doing okay and be hurting terribly inside. I've been around long enough now that it doesn't take very long to memorize parts of the 12 and 12, parts of the big book. Makes you sound real good and good enough. Those discussion meetings. But you know, those old boys used to tell me, they said, boy, this program ain't working around your kitchen table and it ain't working around this AA table either. It's like they just knew me. And see, if you really think about it, you hear them read from the fifth chapter almost every meeting. It doesn't say, well, have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly memorized our book? It says, follow the path. My problem is, I know, I never wanted to do anything. I just wanted to act like I was doing something. Well, school started. It got worse. And it got worse and it got worse. See, I sat between two sisters that were skipped through school. Lola was skipped two grades and moved back one. Then Linda was skipped a grade. And I'm sitting between these sisters doing absolutely nothing but waiting to get skipped any time. You see, I like doing nothing. I came around, alcoholics and nomads. Sat around alcoholics and nomads. Didn't get skipped there either. And see, another opinion I have is, you know, I can't expect for the promises to come true in my life unless I'm willing to do what the fifth chapter suggests I do. My experience is that I didn't start experiencing the promises in my life until I was a kid. I started making an effort to practice the twelve steps of alcoholics and nomads. So it's not like I just got lazy when I started drinking. See, I am naturally physically lazy, mentally lazy, and spiritually lazy. As a matter of fact, I realize now why I never made it in alcoholics and nomads to begin with. And that's because I never met the conditions. You know, I'm not the kind of person who'd be ready to go anywhere unless you get it. Then you're ready to take certain steps. Well, see, I wanted what you had, but I was not willing to go anywhere unless you get it. Man, I'll tell you, I remember coming to these meetings. Man, I'll check you out. This guy named Bill C. in Greensboro, North Carolina. The first time I saw him and his wife, they were sitting on the road to the Gold Street meeting at Alphard's North. Bill had on a pair of bass weeds and loafers. No socks. Some khaki pants and a yellow shirt. And he was sitting there slouched down like he was cooked. And his wife was sitting beside him, rubbing him on the shoulders, playing with his hair. I said, man, I like that. I said, I wonder if me and my wife ever do that. I had been drunk so long that I didn't realize, well, I tell you, I just didn't realize how marriages and relationships were supposed to be. I didn't realize how hard it was to get married. I didn't realize how hard it was to get married. I didn't realize how hard it was to get married. But I wanted that. But I was not willing to work for it. I didn't want to change. Well, at about the age of 12 or 13, things began to happen fast in my life. First of all, all these schools were being integrated in North Carolina. The Civil Rights Movement, I guess I missed the Civil Rights Movement. I was in the cotton field picking cotton, you know. And I didn't see a whole lot of 6 o'clock news. I didn't check out Tom Brookhound and the others. and Brother Concrite and the boys. Didn't know anything about them until we quit picking cotton. But anyway, I got to the eighth grade, and my body started changing. I was wearing size 11 shoes in eighth grade. Kept my feet heated up under the desk all the time. And, you know, the schools went upgrading, and I began to go through some more changes. And, see, all this time in Cleveland County, we were so poor that we didn't know anything about the Civil Rights Movement. And, see, now, whites and blacks interacted together. You know, sometimes they ate out of the same garden. I remember having to go down to Grandmother's and stop by Jack Hammond, have their stuff in a foot tub, and Daddy would have the garden and Flora Wittenberg made butter and stuff like that, and my grandmother. I made cookies. And they'd send me, sometimes in the summer, I'd go strolling down and stop by Jack Hammond. He had eggs. Going over to Flora Wittenberg, she had butter. Played at Grandmother's all day. She had those big molasses cookies. And, see, I'd take that little basket, and they'd put stuff in it, take stuff out of it. And, see, they had their own bartering, selling, and trading system. And you never saw money exchange. Herman Weaver was a mechanic. You'd stop by there, and he'd say, He said, He said, He said, I remember the first bicycle I had. Me and a guy named Steve Mullenleis built it. We got all the parts, just junk parts, put it together. And, man, we put it there. We had all the parts except the chain. And, man, we was tough going downhill. But I started school at, I started school at fall. I didn't have no toenails. I drug them all off trying to stop that thing. But, you know, here the school started. School's starting to integrate. And I'm beginning to feel like a phony. See, I'm afraid to interact with my white friends because I'm afraid of being rejected by my black friends. So I'm entering the ninth grade feeling like a phony. Another thing that happened there is I found out who I really was. It was like that movie, The Jerk, where Steve Martin finds out he has soap. But, see, we had a party in eighth grade, and I'm sitting there at the party. And I realize that I can't talk to the women. And all these guys from Hollyoak Park are dancing, and I realize I can't dance. I could shake a little bit, but, you know, these guys seem to have all these moves refined. And these black guys, now if you know these black guys, when they get about 13 or 14, something happens to their kneecaps or their hips, you know, it makes them dip a little walk. I didn't do that, see. I'd been pulling that cotton sack. I'd smooth things out, you know, take the dip out of my hip. And I would listen to strange music. These people were listening to stuff like Marvin Gaye, The Temptation, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Martha Reason, The Vandals. And, see, I didn't know anything about soul music. And, see, I'd been laying in the bathtub on Saturday night listening to a country station out of Gaffney, South Carolina. Well and Jennings, Conway Twin and the Twitty Birds, Mel Haggard and the Strangers. That sounded like somebody I might be able to relate to. And, see, I am 13 years old, and I found out that I'm black and I ain't cool. And I found out I'm a soul brother and I ain't got soul. But now that summer, I found something that would do the trick. Me and my best friend, I'm a soul brother. Me and my man, Kel. We'd land up in my wife's grandfather's corn crib. And my man, Kel, you know, I saw Kel back, I think, this summer. Kel has always been there. Throughout my childhood, Kel was my best friend. And the reason why Kel was my best friend is because Kel listened slower than I talked. I kept that sucker in trouble all his life. But me and old Kel land up there in the corn crib. And we'd run up on a bottle of grandpa's. Old crub. And, see, in the eighth grade in North Carolina, you have North Carolina history. You learn a little bit about the democratic process. So Kel and I used the democratic process that afternoon. And the majority wrote that we should drink grandpa's liquor. It was unanimous. And we drank grandpa's liquor. And a little time later, I began to get this tingling in my hip. Strange sensation around my kneecap. You know, I could feel that I straightened up. And I told Kel, I said, Kel, I don't know whether I'm going to need these glasses anymore. I think I got that 20-20 vision. I'm seeing two of everything. And, uh, I felt that haircut just get right on center. All those parts blended into one. And we went to the bar. We went to the bar. And we went down the hill and sat up under the plum bushes. And we began to philosophize. Man, I'll tell you. And we sat up under that plum bush and we talked about what we'd do to the Brickley girls that came over that hill. And they didn't come over the hill and we didn't get to do it. So we went back up the hill. You know, that stuff begins to wear off. You'd be thinking, you know, grandpa's going to come out for his afternoon hit. And he ain't going to find his afternoon hit. Now, we drove. Grandpa looked. But being two boys raised in the Baptist church, we knew that if you stole anything, you had to replace it. So we did. We urinated back in the bottle and hid it right back where we found it. And see, I was ahead of my time. See, I was recycling back then, see. The government's just now getting into it. Well. My next encounter with alcohol, I was going to make something myself. You know, I guess my IQ is about average. But just the thought of drinking liquor runs it up to about 350. Super genius. And I've never had heart attacks and stuff like that. But I have, see, I'm a drunk. I have brain attacks. I had my first brain attack back then. And usually after I have a brain attack, you can find me somewhere. When I had my first brain attack, I was going to make me some wine. So I got me some berries out of the backyard. But this time we had moved off the farm. I don't know where I got these berries from. Some kind of little tree in the backyard. They call them wild cherries. Man, I eventually killed that tree trying to get some more of them berries. But I brought those berries up. And by that time, I was getting big enough where I could scare people. I went back there and told my sister, if y'all tell her, I'm going to get you. I'm going to get you. And I boiled that stuff up in a pot on the stove and poured it in two mason jars. Now, my thinking was, this stuff has got to ferment. And the way it ferments is it sits in the dark for a while. See, because alcohol will not get in it while you're looking. So it's got to be dark. The darkest place I knew was a hole in the backyard. So I dug me a hole in the backyard. Buried those two mason jars full of whatever that was. And went and sat on the back porch. I sat there for all of five minutes. And I got up and I dug that stuff back up. And I said, it's ready now. And I drank the first one. It didn't produce anything. Kind of disappointed me. And it just baffled me. I said, well, maybe we need to get this alcohol started. So I went in the bathroom and got a little rubbing alcohol, poured a little bit in it. And drank that some time later. Now, that didn't produce a high. It produced the worst case of gas. The worst case of gas I ever had in my life. But, you know, if you're from Shelby, North Carolina, any cheap thrill is all right, you know. Anything is better than being sober, you know. Well, I'm one of those guys that just cannot drink. I entered high school on a college preparatory track. I guess it was figured that I'd play basketball. I didn't know I could play basketball. And my high school was what I learned in high school on a fast track. I drank myself out of the basketball program in two years off a school bus route in a year and 19 days. I started off on a college preparatory track, dropped from that to vocational, from that to general, and finally made it out of high school, begging teachers to pass me, laying out of school and drinking wine on Fridays. And eventually I started to put a little weekend in my week, like the old Michelob commercial, drinking a little wine on Thursdays. I specialized and majored in drinking wine and shoplifting. You know, it was so refreshing to hear Jay talk about drinking wine last night. Thunderbird wine. It was all I could do to stay in my seat. You know, I'm just a natural winer. When you talk about drinking wine, it makes me feel patriarchal. I wanted to stand up and put my hand over my heart, you know. Oh, man, I'll tell you, that's the gospel. That's the gospel. You know. You can't, you can't be alcoholic if you ain't drunk some wine. I like that. You know. It always looked attractive to me. Well, I'll remember vividly being confronted with my alcoholism four times in my last two weeks of high school. The first time I was confronted with my alcoholism was by my English teacher, Ms. Louis Soares. I remember when I talked to him. But you know, many people could call me Stufflines because I liked that. I had a pair of those big bell-bottom pants on. I had them rolled up like bikini pants. And I cruised in the English. She threw me out. Made me stand out in the hallways. Yeah, I may have stand out in the hallway with these bony legs and these bell-bottoms rolled up. And she came out and talked to me. She said, Dennis, I think you have a drinking problem. You know, I said, you know, I just drink a little wine every night. And then she proceeded to show me my attendance record. She showed me how my schoolwork had deteriorated. And I began to further explain to her how little I drink. I know now that any time anybody begins to explain to you how little they drink, they've probably got a problem. It's always the alcoholics who say, I only drink every once in a while. You know, think about fat people. It's always the fat people who say, I don't eat meat cake. I just eat one piece every two or three years. I don't even like food. You know? So, time goes on. The next three people that said anything about my drinking were 17 years old, just like me. The first one was Sylvia Spears. Had her doing my history homework. She said, Dennis, I think you're an alcoholic. I don't even know where she got that word from. I didn't know that word when I was 17 years old. It was like she just pierced my heart. Hurt my feelings so bad, I didn't even ask her to do my homework for a couple of days. But she started back doing my homework when I graduated. Then there was Linda Lowe. Linda Lowe was so pretty back then, I was scared to get close to her. I thought I might get her dirty or something. But anyway, she wrote in my annual, Dennis, you're a nice guy. Stay off the booze and everything will be okay. And then there was Janice. Janice wrote in my annual. I said, Dennis, someday reality will hit you in the face and you won't know what to do. Now, I don't know what Janice knew. But today, my reality is the fact that I have alcoholism. And Alcoholics Anonymous is about living in context with that reality 24 hours at a time. But I didn't know that then. And I drank for 10 more years. You know, by the time I got out of high school, I was a little bit older. I was a little bit older. I was a little bit older. I was mad at everybody. Mad at mama, mad at dad and see. I was mad at my parents because they wanted to give me the same things that any responsible parent wanted to give their kid. They wanted to give me, they wanted me to go to church. They wanted me to give them spiritual training. They wanted me to get a job. They wanted me to be responsible for supporting myself. They wanted me to go to school. They wanted me to prepare myself for the future. The fact is, I hated them for loving me. Which developed another pattern. If you love me, I will use you to get what I want. So I got mad and, see, they'd been telling me the whole time, you can't join the Army because your eyes are too bad. I went to see my recruiter and he looked in my eye. I saw him. He was mystified. I signed that paper within five minutes to get him back. And I remember coming home that day. I went home and told him almost, I told my dad, dad, gatekeeper. And Dad was usually sitting on the front porch with those beer overalls on, smoking my cigarettes. See, Dad didn't, he didn't buy his own cigarettes. He's, Dad don't know nothing about addiction and alcoholism. You buy a cigarette, somebody, you know, one of us gets old enough to start smoking cigarettes, Dad starts smoking. That one move out, Dad quit smoking. Next one come along, he starts smoking. Dad starts back smoking. That one move out, Dad quit smoking. So it was my turn, Dad smoking my cigarette. I said, Dad, I joined off. He was heartbroken. You know what he said? That's good, you ain't doing nothing else, go tell your mama. You know, didn't bother him a bit. And see, Mom is the one that I wanted to get. She wanted me to do all this good stuff. See, Mom didn't have any brothers. My grandmother didn't have any sons. So on that side of the family, I was the goody-goody two-shoes. She wanted me to do stuff like take-trips. I said, Mom, I'll do it, but I got to have somebody else's hands. I'm hitting three keys at a time here, you know. But anyway, I went back there. I said, Mom, I joined off. And she said, Dennis, you didn't. And I pulled my shoulder out to her. And she started crying and hollering and rolling all over that bed. Man, I felt so good. I said, I have finally got her back. Man, there is nothing sweeter to me than getting revenge. But the problem is, it always blows up in my face. And see, four weeks later, I'm down at Fort Jackson crying and hollering and rolling all over my bed. I'm in bad shape. Can't call home. As a matter of fact, I stayed in the Army eight years. And, you know, I kind of fell upstairs in the Army. By this time, I'm married. And Libra is, well, not married. I got married after I came back from Vietnam. Libra was pregnant with our first child. And I was married to Libra. And Libra was pregnant with our first child. And Libra was pregnant with our first child. And Libra was pregnant with our first child. And I went to, got back from Vietnam on my 19th birthday. And got married ten days later and went out and spent some time in Oklahoma and then back to Germany for three and a half years. My last tour in the Army was as a drill sergeant. And by this time, my drinking was in full swing. I had began to accumulate DWIs. And by the time I got to Alcoholics Anonymous, I had accumulated five DWIs. One where I'd run a car through a roadblock and another one where I had driven a brand new car into a lake in Germany. But I had never been convicted of a DWI. Because I lied real good, or the Army got me out of it, I was just lucky. But because I was not convicted, my sick mind told me I didn't do it. Got off the plane from Germany in 1977, had alibis, and a few more days later, I was in the army. And I was one of the first people who got to Germany for the first time in my life. And I'm very lucky that I was able to have that time. Because I was on the same plane as my father, I was never convicted. But I was a had absolutely all of my bills paid off except I had ordered a car. And I was bad to all of these long, silver Pontiac Bonnevilles with fender skirts and burgundy interior and all the buttons you could get on them all. And I always wondered how the highway patrol knows who's drinking and who ain't. All you got to do is look at the drunk car. They got it. Well, things began to happen from 1977 to 1979. I came back to the States as a drill instructor. Too much power for old drunk like Dennis Nance. I began to drink uncontrollably. Who's going to question a drill sergeant? Two years later, I am up to my neck in debt and up to my neck in alcoholism. By that time, I had progressed further than Thunderbird Wine. I had gone into new things like night train and riches while I was rich. It would become something more insidious, but not terribly empty like today. I had spent a lot of time at fire Spirituality and in college hasta the age of 32 again ready to serve exact the location what Izwaryaw 바를ой Neill and my wife Valerieki Sweryd. Villa wipe off what I was doing with beni 말 드� umm ACM only Man. I'm still drop patties off my say leave. Order won a 송 S так I remember sometime me and Lieber would be fighting, and I'd get off her. I mean, my whole shirt and everything would come, would just pop off like these comics do. But anyway, in 1979, Lieber and I had decided to separate and divorce, and I had refused to go to Korea, so I was getting out of the Army, so I was up for two discharges at the same time. I bought Lieber home. By this time, I knew that my drinking was out of control. As a matter of fact, in 1976, I knew that I could not drink like other people drank, but I could not admit that to anybody else. Well, I bought Lieber home and left one car and went back out to Oklahoma to do my last 45 days in the Army. And then? Things began to happen. See, I thought with the wife gone and those kids gone, I can drink like I want to drink. Well, when I drink like I want to drink, strange things start happening. The first thing that happened is they cut the water off. Then they cut the lights off. I'm just laying in there on that carpet having a good old time. I used to say I sold that house. I didn't sell that house in Oklahoma. I didn't sell that house in Oklahoma. I barely escaped foreclosure in that house. I salvaged, I think, $4,100 out of a $21,000 house. I sent Lieber about $1,300 of that money, and I kept the rest of it. And I woke up 50 miles from home in a place called Hobart, Oklahoma, driving that new car around in a wheat field out there. That is what I see as my first time. That was my first recognizable blackout, because I was absolutely broke. I don't know what happened to the rest of that money. And that was the basis for many an argument in my household until Lieber and I understood alcoholism, blackouts, and progressions, and stuff like that. So I came back to Oklahoma just like I came back to North Carolina just like a good drunk's supposed to, drinking wine and writing bad checks. And came back. Lieber couldn't understand where the money was. She had found a house in Greensboro. And she said, well, I don't care what you're doing with the money anyway, because I got a house in Greensboro and I'm leaving you. She left and I did too. I followed her into the other car. She moved in. I moved in. Lieber got a job. I started drinking. Well, see, I looked for one job a day, and if they didn't hire me, my next stop was the liquor store. I was a drunk. I was a drunk. I was a drunk. I was a drunk. I was a drunk. I was a drunk. I was a drunk. I didn't have time to be looking for a job. I had some wine to drink. And I was finally hired at a local prison here. And it was here that my life began to change, because I began to realize that I was in that prison working, and I had done some of the same things that the prisoners in there had done. As a matter of fact, I began to come in drunk. I come in drunk on first shift. They put me on second shift. Come in drunk on second shift. They put me on third shift. And that's where I wanted to be, so I could drink all day and work all night and start right on back the next day. But now if you do that, you'll start seeing little woolly boogers and little things out of the cement. You're kind of quick, you know. And, you know, they had us on this crazy shift. I could never remember when I was supposed to be at work, when I was supposed to be at home. And I'd sit there in that dormitory, and I'd start seeing rats. Crawl up on the wall, crawl in the trash can. And I started killing them rats. See, I didn't know nobody saw them but me, you know. But McClainville Prison Unit is a mental health satellite. They got psychiatric people there, psychiatric unit there. They have pre-sentence diagnostic people. The fact is, it's a processing unit, and some of the people at McClainville Prison Unit don't even know what they're in prison for. That's how crazy they are. But those crazy people started signing positions, petitions, and writing grievances on me, trying to get me out of prison. And I was in prison. I was trying to have them fired. They were trying to have me fired. And I realize now that any time you're so sick that sick people don't want to be around you, you're in bad shape. I was invited home for Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving of 1980. And I went home, and they were talking about things like going to church and God and stuff like that. And I figured while I had their attention there, I'd just do their business. And I said, well, I'm going to go to church. I'm going to go to church. I'm going to go to church. I'm going to go to church. I'm going to go to church. I'm going to do them a good service. And I do what a drunk's supposed to do. I cuss them all out. The second recognizable blackout in my life, I ended up driving north on 85, headed back home. Because when you start these arguments, you've got to go home to win. You've got to walk out, because if you stay there, you lose. And I began to reflect back. You know, they talk about that moment of clarity. I remember being in Germany in 1976, when they wrote me and told me. That my wife's uncle, Big Dan W., had gotten sober in this strange thing called alcoholic synonymous. And I knew it was just a matter of time before they got me. I thought they were sneaking around the liquor store, hiding behind your house, trying to catch you drinking liquor. I just figured, the second fact is that I'd have to dodge the Highway Patrol, my wife, and these AA folks, and try to get a decent drink in every now and then. But now, I said, I'm going to quit. I said, I'm going to quit. And I drove on into Greensboro. And I began to think, you know, maybe when I get to Greensboro, what I'll do is I'll call Big Dan. But after I got to Greensboro, I said, well, I made it to Greensboro. I don't need to call Big Dan. I quit now. The first miracle happened in my life that day. Big Dan called me. Big Dan called me. Big Dan came by. And he was driving a little Toyota. And he had a book in the back. You could bring it to him. He had a book in the back. You could barely make out. It was like it had rained on the book. It was kind of swollen. I know now that was coffee stains. You could barely make out alcoholics and anomalous on the outside of it. Then he had another pamphlet in there. It was on black alcoholism. I said, my God, it's got colors. I didn't know that. I tried to get in Dan's car to steal his big book. It was locked. So I went inside. And that's Dan's book. And 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'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'm going to go to the bathroom. He said, Dan, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I said, Dan, I'm going to go to the bathroom. He said, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I said, Dan, tell me about this thing called alcoholism. Now, I know you don't know Dan, but Big Dan could talk nonstop back then for hours. And Dan started talking about this thing called alcoholism. And he said, Dennis, if I dial the number, will you talk? Well, look, I'm hungover and sick. I'm just coming off a drug. I said, Dan, if you just shut up, I'll talk, you know. And a guy on the phone named James talked to me and convinced me to be down in his office. At 9 o'clock that Monday morning, I went down there. James was a strange-looking person to me. James was a black man. He was neatly grown, clean-shaven, had his shirt tailed in, had a necktie on, had brown tan, had tan wingtips on. I hadn't hung around in about that clean in years. He talked freely about his alcoholism. He talked about being locked up. He talked about neglecting his wife, abusing his kid. He talked about being in jail, not paying his bills. He talked about being in jail, not paying his bills. I didn't know anybody that would tell stuff like that on my—see, I'm a good old Southern Baptist. If you find anything about me, somebody else is going to tell it. I ain't telling—I'll tell it on you, but I ain't telling it on me. No, no, no, can't do that. So I wanted out of there. And I had $20 out of that paycheck I messed up in. As I started out of there, he said, Dennis, if you're going to stay sober, you're going to need this. And he had the big blue book. And I had the big blue book. That's what I wanted. So I could go home and lay across my bed and read that book and work this program. And I had to make meetings like you sick people. I wasn't that bad. And then this little lady named Rose Lee, and she clicked all the time. I could—I said, Mugger, maybe it's a hip or a shoe or something. I found out later on her teeth were a little too big, you know. And she said, James, are you going to ask him? I said, oh, man, they want some money now. I ain't got but $20. And they asked me, you know, I'm going to ask you. I said, well, I'm going to ask you. I said, well, I'm going to ask you. I said, well, I'm going to ask you. I said, well, I'm going to ask you. And they asked me another profound question. I said, Dennis, do you think your wife and your kids will come into counseling? Oh, man, I didn't want them to. They done messed up my drinking. Now they're going to mess up my night drinking. And see, I just knew that. And see, drunks know stuff like that. As a matter of fact, drunks know everything except what they're supposed to know. And if you don't believe it, show up at your home group next meeting night. Go out—jump out of the car and raise your hood up. You get 15 of them right there. Change. Telling yourself like me, and you get the better of a change. Know the engine is blown, then all you need to tune up, so your computer's messed up on this car. But ain't none of them got driver's license, see? They know everything except what they're supposed to know. And so Lieber and the kids came into counseling. The kids were too young for all the team, but Lieber went right on in the Al-Anon. Lieber went in the Al-Anon. Lieber went in the Al-Anon. Lieber went in the Al-Anon. He got kind of spiced. Walk a little different. Don't let old head back and say stuff like, Dennis, I'm going to a meeting. If you want to go to a meeting, then you have to arrange babysitting for the kids or keep them yourself if you're their father. And she'd leave. And she'd take that big Pontiac, too. I'd have to drive an old Volkswagen out of the wreck three times, you know. Had the nose mask in on me. And she came home and said, Dennis, I'm going to an Al-Anon retreat next month. I said, Lieber, we can't afford to use the Al-Anon retreat. She said, I can't afford not to. And we'd leave. Just go. I started hanging around meetings with alcoholics and not. You see, I believe that Al-Anon and Al-Ateem do for our family members the same thing that the 12 Steps of Alcoholics and Al-Anon do for the alcoholic. I think God uses all three of these fellowships to rebuild. The heart and mind of the alcoholics and the family members of the alcoholics from the inside out. And from there, we rebuild family units and communities and colleges and churches and whatever. But I started hanging around the back row of the alcoholics and not. I used to sit near the coffee pot and the door, whichever was the closest. And see, by this time, I'm financially bankrupt as well as spiritually and mentally bankrupt. So if you had any refreshments like cookies or pastries, I really did appreciate it. I needed something warm on my stomach. My growth was a little low at home. And after I sat back there and ate up your refreshments, somewhere between A and me and the Lord's Prayer, magic happened. A six-foot-four black man disappeared. Poop, I was done. I didn't want you hanging around me shaking my hand saying, keep coming back because I didn't want to be there in the first place. And then I hung around a while. I began to feel sorry for you. Yeah, I was powerless over alcohol in your life. It had become unknown. I said, my God, these folks can't drink less. I see what their problem is now. But see, I didn't, I wouldn't like that. And see, my memory began to come back. And I could not work step two. Came to believe that power within ourselves can restore us to the center. How can I be restored to something I already got? I am not insane. See, by this time, I've got. I've got to the point where, see, I remember the times where, one time where I came home and I was just so drunk, I could not get the key in the door. So I just got mad and went to sleep in the backyard. Well, I hear Michelle, Mom and Daddy sleep in the backyard. Let them stay out there. Yeah, I do stuff like that when they start out on I. Let them stay out there. Last thing I'm going to do is what she wants me to do. So I go in the back door. And leave her standing there in that old blue nightgown with the lace tore off of it. Saying, Dennis, why are you sleeping in the backyard? I said, you know, my husband, all women, everybody sleeps in the backyard sometimes. But never did I look in my neighbor's backyard and see him over there. Say, George, how did you sleep last night? Good morning. You know, but I ain't insane. I ain't insane. I ain't about to mess with step three because it's got God in it. And I figure God is just waiting, watching me from up there with this big flashlight. He's going to catch me. He's right in the middle of Dawson Boulevard. And pow, that's it for Dennis Mann. So I go on to step four. I started writing my novel I heard y'all talk about. See, it's amazing how smart I was. I knew about the fourth step before I knew about the first. I couldn't stop drinking, but I could write pretty good. So I started writing. And that would have been some good stuff if I had kept it. But I got lost that one. I don't know what happened. I could write about it. But, you know, I looked back. I know what the problem was. See, I had done nothing that Alcoholics Anonymous suggested that I do. I hadn't got a sponsor. I hadn't done anything. Somebody had mentioned sponsorship, but I couldn't find anybody I thought could sponsor me. Couldn't find anybody black enough, anybody cool enough. Couldn't find a Vietnam veteran. You know, I'd gotten sober enough that I was looking at the women. I said, I'll bring a couple in to sponsor me. But I'd sit down, they'd get up. So you know what happened. You can't find anybody to sponsor you. Like I couldn't find anybody to sponsor me. I had to sponsor myself. Now, I tell you, if you're having trouble saying so, if you don't like that sponsoring you got, if you're tired of reading the book and going to meetings and doing what you have to do, sponsor yourself for a while. I did. I sponsored myself for 81 days. Done a good job. Until I started thinking. I had a brain attack again. I said, well, maybe there's some more things out there I can use that will give me a buzz just like alcohol did. After all, I had a brain attack. After all, I had a brain attack. I said, well, this is alcohol synonymous. This ain't pill anonymous. This ain't pot anonymous. This is A. This ain't P.A. And I started using some of them things. I talked to my sponsor going home that night. He was in the rear view mirror. I said, sponsor, you think we ought to start eating up some of these other things? He said, yeah, go ahead. Two weeks later, I'm 140 miles from home up in Rutherford, New York. I'm a drunken nemesis. You know, I used to just love freedom, you know. And that's my last run. February 1st of 1981, I came back to Alphard's and all. These old guys still sitting on the back row. Still sleeping on the back row. And they opened the meeting for discussion. I started talking about me. Old James. And asked me, I said, boy, I don't have but one thing to ask you. Did you use prayer and meditation the day you drank? I said, excuse me? See, I always had to ask that question. See, it gave me time to get my lie together. And he repeated himself. For some reason, I couldn't lie real good that day. I just said no. It felt so good to tell the truth. Usually the truth. Only takes one or two words. See, after I said no, I didn't have to worry about what kind of lie I was going to tell to cover that one up, to cover that one up, to cover that one up. Just no. And he started talking some more of that profound stuff. I said, boy, how do you expect to stay sober? Five minutes. If you don't use this program of power grading yourself, the people in it, and the tools that he's surrounded you with. He said, it's evident to me that you can't keep yourself sober. And see, these guys. They didn't have my insurance money. They didn't have my mom and daddy's money. They didn't have my employer's money. They could talk to me in a language that I understood. And they didn't use a whole lot of seven-syllable words either. When I went home that night, I had the basis for my recovery. I knew that Dennis Nance couldn't keep Dennis Nance sober. I knew that Dennis Nance couldn't replace his alcohol with anything other than mood, alcohol, and chemicals. The third thing I knew was that Dennis Nance was going to have to affect their relationship with God as he understood him or as he misunderstood him. And the fourth thing I knew, and the thing I hated the most, is that Dennis Nance was going to have to follow instructions from someone who was reasonably successful at staying sober 24 hours at a time. That night, I began to pray. I'd sneak in the bathroom. Get on the side of that bathtub. Turn on the shower. Run some water in the sink. Flush the commode. Get on the side of that bathtub and say, thank you for keeping me sober. Call it while I'm going to bed. See, I didn't want anybody to catch me praying. I was too cool to pray. I wanted people to think I was staying sober on my own. Until Lieber came in from an hour-and-a-half meeting one night. See, I had did that for about six months, and I had begun to pray for the courage to pray in my own bedroom. Lieber came home one night and said, I've been telling my sponsor I'm going to do something. I'm going to start doing it. I said, I haven't been doing it. I'm going to start doing it. I'm going to start doing it. And she got on the side of that bed and prayed. You know, in my first home group, there was an old guy named Harold Hensh. Old Harold used to say, I might be dumb, but I ain't stupid. I knew that night that at least that prayer was answered, and we'd been able to pray in our bedroom together or separately as we wished. The kids went on into our team. They began to grow up. Those little nail-biting discipline problems that used to be in school are now adults. And I realize now that most of their success as adults is not the good parenting, because I was drunk and crazy all that time. It has to be the result of our team. Well, Michelle is in Western Salem State. I think she's in her junior year. She's doing okay. Not doing it like I want her to do it, but she's doing okay. Dennis is, on the other hand, he's gainfully employed with UPS, has a wife and three little granddaughters. You know, we were concerned about them having too many kids. I know they wanted a boy, so after they had those first two girls and Rosalyn became pregnant again, it made me mad. But you know what I said? I hope it's a girl, just to show them they can't tell God what to do. So I got three girls. You know, you go back to the ship and they'll tell you I'm crazy. They'll say, if you know Dennis Nairn, he's crazy, just an old drunk. You know, them three granddaughters think I'm a big deal. Just climb up my back and go in my pocket, lay back there in that bed and say, Papa, can we go in your bedroom? I say, well, I'll go talk to Grandma. Get back in there, they're out of the bed standing there. They know they're coming. They're coming. They're coming. They're coming. They're coming. I like that. The beauty of the program. My job has changed. I'm in a position now where I'm able to work with alcoholics and family members of alcoholics exclusively. This new change, moving to Greenville, I don't know what's going to come out of it. But I look back now and I see that my life has gotten progressively better ever since I've been called. My relationship with my wife is the best that it ever has been. My relationship with my wife has become the best in the world. My relationship with my wife is the best it ever has been. Right now, she's looking for a job again. So she's kind of tested, pushing that Alabama program to the limit, you know. But I know that, so I'm keeping my distance. Now, she don't like sitting at home doing nothing. And I'm not going to ask her to stand at Ambassador, because she's back there. But anyway, she's going to come back. And I'm going to come back to her. Well, she's going to come back. I'm not going to let her in. But anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you all in the White House. I'm going to come back to you. I'm going to come back to you. But I know that, so I'm keeping my distance from that. She don't like sitting at home doing nothing. And I'm not going to ask her to stand and embarrass her, because she's back there. But anyway, I think back today, and if they had said, Dennis, you can have anything you want if you stay sober, I would have cheated myself. See, these old guys have done me some favors. They didn't let me cheat myself. They appointed me a sponsor. They did the most loving thing I think one drunk can do for another. They sat me down and taught me what they knew of the first 664 pages of that book. O.A.D., my first sponsor, actually showed me how to pray. Sat me down, read his mysterious material, drank orange juice and drank coffee and said, look at me, boy. And he prayed aloud and showed me how to pray. And he said, Dennis, if you, if you don't teach them how to pray, you're going to be a sponsor people later on. And you don't teach them what you know of the book. If you don't teach them how to put these 12 steps to use in their life, then you may be cheating them out of the only chance of recovery they're going to have. And if you can't sponsor them like you've been sponsored, you need to pass them on to somebody else and let them do it. Life is too precious to play around with this thing. That's a big deal. That's a big deal. I've been a pastor for a long time. I've been a pastor for a long time. I realize now that all of my prayers have always been answered. It's just that sometimes I like the wisdom to recognize the answer. I remember when I was a kid, old Robert used to come on television on Sunday morning. And Mama just never accepted the fact that I was going to have to wear glasses the rest of my life. She'd say, Dennis, come in here. Old Robert's going to pray for you. And I weighed almost 60 pounds. You know, feeling so dumb, old Robert's got his hand up on the television screen. And, you know, I ain't smart, but here I am thinking, you know, this black and white television, one of those serious deals, and Dad would be looking at the Saturday night fights, and the thing would go off, and he'd go in the back of it. It shocked him. He'd get up, unplug it, and go to bed. Now here it is Sunday morning, and I've got this same big rag of television I'm sitting on, you know. I said, well, I'll get electrocuted. And they'll say, well, he's dead, but he probably can see wherever he is. He's been healed. I realize now that my glasses are God's answer to my sight problem. Alcoholics Anonymous is God's answer to my alcohol problem. But not just that, my living problem. My living problem. I like the wisdom to know the difference. And I remember the many times in Alcoholics Anonymous where I felt sorry for myself because I had to quit drinking. What was I going to do the rest of my life? Why did I have to go to those meetings? Why did I have to read that book? Why did I have to do what a sponsor said? Why did I have to do this? Why did I have to do that? Well, today I think about people with other illnesses. Brain tumors, terminal cancer, kidney disease, AIDS. You know, if all they had to do was make meetings on a regular basis, utilize a sponsor, invoke the rage of a power greater than themselves, their concept of God, help other people that were suffering and recovering from that same illness, if all they had to do is what you've asked me to do, the Civic Center wouldn't hold them off. Yet oftentimes I've sat right in the middle of the solution, complaining about the problem. I think that says a lot why business now needs to be in Albany, Georgia this weekend. Thank you all and God bless you.