Harold traces his arc from a Spanish H. hustler and military drunk to a street-bottom alcoholic sleeping on a dirt floor while Handel’s Messiah blared from a faulty burner. A tuberculosis isolation ward became his unexpected floor, where a nurse’s question cracked his stone facade.
Guided by his sponsor Ellie, he built a spiritual arch, brick by brick, trading a dangling light bulb for a daily reprieve. He maps the fellowship’s lineage from the Washingtonians to Bill and Dr. Bob, then turns inward to the mechanics of surrender: the Yoda spaceship test, the Michelangelo chisel, and the golden circle of meetings that kept him from the gutter.
The talk closes on grief, affordable housing, and the mandate to pass the message to the next soul walking through the door.
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