Dr. Tiebout Said I Had an Iron Curtain Between Myself and Reality – Bob P.

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About This Speaker Tape

Bob P. delivers a rich, historically grounded talk at a Kansas AA conference, opening with warm gratitude for old friends and the thrill of having Bob Smith — someone present when Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob first met — in attendance. He traces the spiritual lineage of AA from Dr. Carl Jung's advice to Roland Hazard, through the Oxford Groups, to Ebby's visit to Bill Wilson, landing on the core message he believes AA carries: "God could and would if He were sought." He shares an old-timer's insight that changed his thinking — AA doesn't teach us how to handle drinking, it teaches us how to handle sobriety.

Bob grew up moving eighteen times in thirteen years across Kansas City and Lawrence, a shy only child who retreated into movies and daydreams, imagining himself as Fred Astaire in top hat and tails. He became a writer, sold his first article to a national magazine at twenty, and landed in Rockefeller Center, where daily martinis at the English Grill became routine. The progression accelerated through Navy service, marriage to Betsy, and a career at Shell Oil — the lying, the shakes so bad he couldn't eat soup, the discovery that vodka made everything possible and then mandatory.

The physical devastation was severe: a swollen liver, cirrhosis, spontaneous bruising, nosebleeds requiring stretcher evacuations from the office, and two massive esophageal hemorrhages. After ten months of white-knuckle sobriety following the first liver scare, his doctor's fatal words — "one won't hurt you" — sent him spiraling back within weeks. His psychiatrist turned out to be Dr. Harry Tiebout, a non-alcoholic trustee of AA's General Service Board, who connected him with sponsor Stu J. in Greenwich, Connecticut.

Bob's bottom came at a Fourth of July fireworks display in 1961, stumbling through crowds of families in the dark, sparks raining down like Dante's Inferno, until he sat on a rock and cried — finally knowing his life was unmanageable. Betsy had commitment papers drawn up the next morning, and Bob chose High Watch Farm, where his "iron curtain" between himself and reality began to crumble over dishwater conversations. Six months sober, he realized he wouldn't take a magic pill to drink safely again — the compulsion had been lifted. Now running two to five miles every morning for nineteen years, he closes with profound gratitude for restored health, a transformed marriage, present fatherhood, and the discovery that the reality he ran from his entire life turned out to be beautiful.

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