Head to Heart Is the Greatest Distance Known to Mankind – Ted H.

My name is Ted Harbaugh, and I'm an alcoholic. And I'm alive and sober today by the very special grace of a loving God and a loving program of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I thank God that I'm an alcoholic. And if you're a newcomer out there, that'll make you want to puke. First meeting I went to, some hairpin stood up and said, I'm a grateful alcoholic, and I left. The reason I say that I thank God that I'm an alcoholic is because if I had not been an alcoholic, I wouldn't have found you people. And if I had not found you people, I would not have found all of the things that I'd searched for all of my life. Certainly, all of the things that I looked for in the bottom of all those bottles of booze that I drank for 23 years. But when I found you people, you saved a life that I did not want saved. And you showed me how I could find a brand new life that I had no idea about. That I had no idea even existed. You showed me how I could begin to rebuild a terribly shattered, very nearly non-existent self-esteem. You showed me how I could begin to make up for all of the rotten things that I'd done all of my life. You showed me the true meaning of unconditional love, as I have only found it in Alcoholics Anonymous. The one miracle. The one magic thing, I believe, that makes this program work where all others have always failed, is the magic of your love. And may that always be so. And God, God working through you with his love. And as if all that were not enough, you showed me how I could find a God of my very own. And you did it all by putting into practice your simple, humble philosophy put into one-syllable words. We care. And when I found you, you set out to prove that to me. And that's why I say that I thank God that I'm an alcoholic. Now I want to thank the Roundup Committee for inviting me up here. Thank you. And I just hope that someday each one of you will have the opportunity to stand at a podium like this and experience the incredible love that I feel from all you people. And I want to tell you that the way you've made me feel is like I'm in the living room of my own home. Because that's the love I feel. And I want to thank all of the people that have helped put this beautiful thing together. I want to thank you for sending Bert down to pick me up. He's so full of love. You know, this is the sixth Roundup, and he's been at all six. I'm amazed there's anybody left. Those old-timers have a different kind of love. They make it kind of difficult to see sometimes. But inside, all their hearts are as big as the whole world. I was born an alcoholic. And the reason I know that is because the first word that my mother said was, uh, did you see how much he drank? And I was only five minutes old. And from then on, that's all I ever heard. See, I came with all of the attributes to be a professional drinker. I had a rotten attitude. I was born with a chip on my shoulder and a resentment at the entire world. And I had a violent temper, a terrible attitude, and an insatiable thirst. I really didn't have my first drink until I was about seven. And I recall that. But that was the only time that my father ever told me a lie. And over at our house on the weekends, why, they served this magnificent-looking thing, and it came in a 20-ounce bottle of green glass, and it had foam all over the top. And when they drank that, they just acted so neat, you know, like they loved me. And they acted weird, like they were having a lot of fun. I asked my dad if I could have a sip of that, and that's when he told me that lie. He said, no. You won't like it. I said, why not? Because I said, why not to everything? And he said, well, that's an acquired taste. I understood that. And he was right. Somewhere in between that first and second sip, I acquired the taste. I didn't really get comfortable with booze until I was about 16. I mean, I kind of envy these kids that get started so early these days, you know, six, seven years old. I was talking to Burl, and he made me so envious, talking about sitting out there in that pasture, drinking that booze when he was, what, seven? God, that... Ten. Ten, oh. Late bloomer. I met a kid when I spoke at Susanville, north of Reno, last summer at the first convention that they had in that little town. I walked into a meeting of sharing like you have up here, and he was standing up at the podium, and he was talking about learning how to live. And he said, you know, I've been on this program for four years. And he said, when I got here, these old-timers told me that if I quit shooting stuff in my arms and dropping stuff down my throat and snorting stuff through my nose and smoking them funny cigarettes and mixing it all with a lot of booze, why, he said, if I stopped doing all that, why, I'd have a problem in living. And he said, they've been helping me to... learn how to live these last four years. And he was 15 years old. A mainline heroin addict and an alcoholic at the age of eight. And at the age of 11, they found him in the back of some brickyards in Reno, thrown away by society, his life, all over and all done. Don't ever think that you're too young. If you're real new here today, why, it's a dumb thing to do to come here. Your drinking's going to be screwed up from now on. Can you imagine, I can't imagine the pain that one must go through that has to go back out there and look in that back bar mirror and try to manufacture that image of it used to be there before they met us, you know. You know, never again are you going to be able to hook your foot around one of those stools and pull yourself up there and say, God, poor me, there's no hope for me, I'm all alone. You just ruined it. I hope to God you never have to go out there, and you don't, if you do what these old-timers tell you. If you do it. My drinking career spanned 23 years, and it took me a lot of places. You see, all my life I felt like an alien on a foreign planet. You see, all my life I felt like an alien on a foreign planet. You see, all my life I felt like an alien on a foreign planet. And nobody had given me the brochure. And that kind of really says it all. But when I found that booze, a magic happened to me that you know. You know, when I got that booze, it let that little guy out inside of me that liked to laugh and love and be happy and have fun, and he couldn't come out until I found that booze. Because he was packed in there with all that rotten programming, that rotten programming, I'd gotten all my life from my parents and my teachers and my peers that said, you don't do those things, and you don't act that way, and you don't feel things, and all of those other things, like there's nothing to be afraid of. Crawl into my skin for about 30 seconds if you want to know stark terror. And children are to be seen and not heard. And we don't talk about emotions. And all of that stuff. But when I found the magic of that alcohol, something happened. And it doesn't happen to a social drinker, you know. I'm always amused at that part of Chapter 3 where it says someday science may invent something that will allow me to be a social drinker. If they ever invent a pill, they better make it in suppository form. You know, I don't understand social drinkers. I never drank that way, and I don't believe they ought to be allowed to drink, really. You know, they don't know a damn thing about it. And they waste so much. You know, my secretary's a social drinker. Every once in a while, we're out to lunch, and she says, you know, I feel like a glass of wine with lunch. I said, how come? She says, oh, don't start that again. I said, well, I've decided I'm going to write a paper on the intellectual process that an otherwise normal person, a normal human being, goes through to arrive at the idea that one of anything's worth a damn. And then she sits there and she drinks half of it. God, it makes me so nervous. And then she says, oh, that bouquet is so lovely. You know, Jesus, the only time I enjoyed the bouquet was on the way back up. And I said, why don't you drink the rest of it? She says, oh, my, no, if I did, I'd get dizzy. If I got a ride like that out of one glass of rose wine, I'd have never quit. And then they give us such a bad name that they have to pass laws against us. They go out and drive with both eyes open, weaving down the street, just giggling and laughing and carrying on, you know. And then the Department of Motor Vehicles has to pass a law against them saying that they can't drive with more than .01 blood alcohol content. That's for social drinkers. The alcoholic doesn't even think about driving until it's around .03. I mean, you've got to get up your nerve if you can still find your car. You know, I always thought if you're going to drive, drink, face traffic with confidence. You know, I was born without any merging genes. I couldn't merge with society, and I couldn't merge with my peers, and when I got time to drive, I couldn't merge with traffic. But by the time I had about .0275, I was a merging mother, I want to tell you. If you're on the same highway with me, you better have plenty under your belt, too. And then a terrible thing happens to us. We begin to get a car that's an alcoholic car. And even though we're driving perfectly, right down our own lane with one eye, why, you know, the police officer stops you, and you wonder why, until one day you get sober and walk out of your first day of eating and look at your car. You've seen them, they're long and thin. That comes from being towed places they don't want to go. Beverly Hills Police Department told me, if I reported my car stolen one more time, they're going to impound me. How the hell can you call and tell them it's lost? Probably parked on some fire hydrant getting washed. They also get long and thin from lane splitting and parking in narrow garages at high speeds. I used to have to keep a bumper jack handy just to get my car out of the garage to go to work in the morning. And the license plate always hangs by one old rusty bolt. Has last year's registration on it. You have a lot of decisions to make if you're a professional drinker. You know, register or drink. And the exhaust pipe always hangs by one old rusty coat hanger. And they have dents in the weirdest places. Like on top. That comes from trying to open them when the keys are locked inside. And mine had a very distinct peculiarity. The left headlight looked straight down. . . . I thought that was kind of neat. You know, it made you be able to see the double line when it was foggy. Every night. About ten after the traffic cleared. This one cop stopped me three times in Beverly Hills. I love sobriety tests. God, I thought they were more fun. I wouldn't have a chance today with better law enforcement through chemistry, but in those days I... Well, let me back up a little to tell you why I love sobriety tests. You see, when I was 18, I was asked to be a charter member of the Mount Baldy Ski Patrol. And I was the only member of the Ski Patrol in 20 years that wasn't thrown off for drinking. They thought I came that way. You know, heroic. See, I know the difference between a hero and a coward. It's booze. And if you think a guy with terminal... terminal acrophobia, fear of height, can get up on one of those chairlifts, by God, it's easy. Half a gallon of Grenache Rosé at the bottom of the chairlift before the day starts, and you can get right up on there. Then I invented the drinking man's ski pole, too. You just saw the top off and put a cork in it. Each one will hold a pint. And then you can look cool. You know, it's not so important what an alcoholic does as much as it is that he look good. Then you can stand on that. You can stand on that hill and say, gee, why don't we take that run there? And then you've got to keep in balance, so... You look over, maybe that run would be better. We used to have a reciprocity agreement where we could work up at Mammoth and all over the other mountains on the Ski Patrol when the snow got bad in Southern California. And this one particular time, one of my lower companions convinced me that it would be a good idea to take this bus to Mammoth. My God, don't ever take a bus anywhere. I mean, when we used to drive up there, there was only about a one-fifth drive with a couple of six-packs mixed in. But on that bus, my God, it's almost a two-fifth ride. And when they opened the door of the bus the next morning, I fell out in the middle of the parking lot on my head. I was so drunk I couldn't walk. And two hours later, I was in a downhill race from the top of that mountain to the bottom, and I placed. And this cop wanted me to stand on one foot, put my head back, close my eyes, and touch a nose the size of mine. I mean, it's a lead-piped cinch. That third night that he stopped me there in Beverly Hills, he says, You haven't gotten that light fixed yet, have you? His little vein on his head is jumping in and out. Yeah. I said, No, I've been busy working on a case. I didn't tell him it was a case of Cutty Sark. And he says, You've been drinking again, haven't you? You know, what do they expect you to say? They learned that question in police school. Have you been drinking? Oh, yeah, I just finished off a couple of fifths of Cutty Sark, and this friend of mine is just splitting a six-pack on the way home. Nobody else in the car. I said, Why don't you give me a sobriety test? He said, I will not. I'll give you a ticket for that light. That infuriated me. I'd gotten accustomed to it. I loved it. If I had that alcohol, I could do all of those things I was absolutely terrified of doing without it. At the age of 16, I could learn to fly an airplane. At the age of 18, I joined the ski patrol. In 1948, I was asked to help do the first article for Life magazine on underwater scuba diving. And they didn't even have scuba gear. We were making our own demand regulators out of high-altitude bomber breathers. And, God, that was a fabulous thing. You see, all my life, I would do those things that I thought would let you approve of me. You know, please, tell me what you want me to do. Tell me who you want me to be so that you'll be my friend, so that you'll approve of me. So somehow, I can get the idea that I'm okay. And that's why I went all those places and did all those things. And alcohol made it possible. And I don't know if you've ever been underwater, but I want to tell you, that's terrifying. I mean, they got some things. They got a spider crab underneath there. It looks worse than my former mother-in-law. But we found out how to dive heroically. What you do is you take a dish of queer-grain alcohol and you put it in front of the intake manifold of the compressor. And that way, you can fill the tank. You can fill the tank with 50% alcohol vapor. And you can stand right on the deck of the ship and get euphoria of the deep. Never even get wet. At 16, I was racing cars. I had a forged birth certificate. And I joined Toastmasters, and I was able to win all those awards. I can't tell you what I talked about, because I was a blackout drinker. I don't know if you know what a blackout drinker is. That's a guy that can't remember where he's been. I'll give you an example. One night, I went out drinking and carousing, and I found this bar that was just magnificent. Oh, my God. It had the most gorgeous women you've ever seen and the most beautiful music and dancing. And the bartender poured triples without asking. It was fantastic. And the next morning, when I woke up, I couldn't remember where it was. All I could remember was that they had this gorgeous blue wallpaper behind the back bar, and they had gold toilets. And for weeks, I went out every night searching for this bar, and one night, I walked in this place, and there's this wallpaper behind the bar, and I thought, God, I found it, but I better make sure, and I turned to the bartender, and I said, you know, I think I was in here a little while back, and I had a really great time, but in order to make sure, let me ask you, do you have gold toilets? And the bartender turned around, and he said, Hey, George, I think we found the drunk that peed in your tuba. I don't know why you have to take an inventory when you get here. I only got two 502s, drunk driving ramps, the whole time that I was driving, and I don't really understand that. I should have gotten five million. The first one was really just a bad break. I ran away to get married. I ran away from home to get married when I was about 30, and some friends of mine are giving a little stag party for me down in Newport Beach on one of those yachts, and they were drinking my favorite thing that day, booze, Rotten Rico Purple Label and Soda. 147 proof. I always felt if you're going to take a trip, get the best ticket. On the way back, while I was driving along the freeway there through Anaheim, don't ever drive through Anaheim. They have no sense of humor there. And I don't know why this police officer stopped me. I was clear over on the right-hand side of the freeway minding my own business in the dirt, going about five miles an hour. I said, Why'd you stop me? He said, Well, we don't allow people to make movies on the freeway here. We thought maybe you were filming a rerun, a wagon train. He opened the door of the car, and I fell out. He didn't have to ask me if I'd been drinking. I didn't have another drink after that horrible affair until they let me out the next morning. My next 502 was some seven and a half years later, and I can't explain that either. I was in Glendale, and I'd been driving home at a terrific rate of speed. I had to drive very fast to get home before I passed out. I'd done that once, and that's smart. And I started driving at 2 o'clock, and at 3 o'clock in the morning, this police officer stopped me, and I knew I had to be within striking distance of my house. I said, Listen, give me a little break. I only live a couple of blocks from here. And he said, Well, where do you live? And I said, Well, I don't know. You have my driver's license. He opened the door, and I fell out again. I even got a ticket one time for speeding. I don't know if you ever got a ticket for speeding. I got a ticket for doing 60 miles an hour on the Coronado Ferry. All I know is I came out of this block, and there was a green light and a horn going off, and I only knew three things to do. You just stab the right foot through the firewall, slide the left foot off the clutch, and hang on. The policeman stopped me. He said, What the hell was that? I looked back at these little burning piles of rubber on the deck of the ferry there. I said, I don't know. I guess the accelerator's stuck. And I jumped out of the car and ran around the front and lifted the hood and started tearing wires apart, and then I ran around the back. He's chasing me all around the car. I ran around the back, the car, and opened the trunk, got a bottle of Cutty Sark out, took a great huge blast off of that, and jumped back on the passenger side, and some friend of mine signed the ticket. Getting lost used to bother me, though. I even got lost one night going to the bathroom in my own house. My wife was saying, Not there. It's the closet. It's my closet. That was one of the great fringe benefits of this program was when my wife finally threw away the rubber sheet. Four years after I was sober. It takes a long time to build back that confidence. If people don't understand, the whole building burns down, and there's the little alcoholic lying there on his mattress, the little yellow fire break around him. God, we gotta be the most incredible people in the whole world. My brother's a social drinker. God, I can't stand him. You know, I thought I was gonna have a real partner in this drinking career of mine. We got him really sauced one night. It was New Year's Eve, and on the way home, he ran into his own truck with his own car. And then he said the dumbest thing I ever heard. He said, I'll never do that again. And he hasn't. He developed this weird vocabulary with words in it that were so foreign, like no. No thank you. The one that just used to tear me up was, My God, that's strong. I had an alcoholic jigger. It was a Sterling. Silver outfit for three jiggers, but it was nothing but a tube. Hey, you could hold it up there and look good and pour it through, you know. Tell me when. He'd say, my God, that was strong. And I'd say, let me taste it. Looks all right to me. And make him another one. I only had one strong drink in my whole life. And that was when I hadn't read your book, so I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know what I was doing most of the time. But I was on a geographic. You know, I was on a geographic. And I ended up back in Missouri. That's part of step two. And I found myself back in the Ozark Hills, where the good old boys are. And I want to tell you, they make a martini back there that'll get your attention. And it comes in a glass just my size. It's about that big around. Has Mason written around the side of it. It ain't gonna put a cork in it. It's got a lid. This guy said, have you ever tried one of these? And I looked at that and I said, no, but I believe I'm going to. I unscrewed the lid and threw it away. They're for social drinkers. When I first got here, they said, put the plug in the jug. And I said, what plug? I thought it was just to keep it from spilling till you got it to the car. And I took this gigantic looking martini. God, it was so pure, you could see through it. And I took a great huge blast of that. God, it just burned all the way down in my soles and all the way. God, it was fantastic. And this guy jumped back about eight feet. And he said, my God, we don't drink it like that. I said, well, how do you drink it? He said, well, we cut it with grapefruit juice or something. I said, why? And he said, well, it's too strong. I said, strong? Hell. And I took another giant snort. God, it was just like a bonfire going all the way back down. Halfway back up, I was set free. And by now, he's back. They're about 12 feet. And he's on his knees with his little hands together. And I said, what's the matter? And he said, for God's sake, if you're going to drink it like that, please don't smoke. And that was the only strong drink I ever had. You ever been over to a social drinker's house? They all have bars. And they've got bottles in them. And they're full. You go over to this guy's house, and he pulls this rusty, musty old thing off of the back bar there. And he says, look at that. Bottled in Bond bourbon, 20 years old, 100 proof. He's getting off on the outside of the bottle. I said, I don't believe you. Give me a little blast. He said, oh my god, no, it's a collector's item. I said, oh, don't worry. I know how to steam the label off and the tax stamp, put it back on. I can even blow the cobwebs back on. If I'd been over there the week before, it's already colored water. You don't even know. You know, 80% of the alcohol that's consumed is consumed by 20% of the population. Guess who knows how to drink? And then I began getting this affliction. I call it the flyaways. I don't know if you ever had that. But halfway through your signature, your pen flies across the room. And I couldn't understand that. So I went to a psychiatrist. Find out why I was so new. I was so nervous. I wish you people would stop going to psychiatrists. You're killing them all. I believe that alcoholics are the reason that psychiatrists have the highest suicide rate of any professional group known. I mean, look what you do to them, for god's sake. You know, I went to this guy and he says, do you drink? And I said, sure, I'll have a little scotch and water. And he said, no. He said, how much do you drink? And I said, well, I don't know. How much do you have? Because I was a planner. And he said, well, that's not what I mean. He says, have you drank all your life? And I said, no, not yet. And his little vein on his head is jumping in and out. And he said, well, do you dream? And I said, oh, god, do I dream? Ha! I didn't have any problem with Step 2 when I got here, I'll tell you. I used to sit in those bars and think up dreams to talk to him about the next morning. It's $65 an hour. You know, and then at the end of the day, I'd say, well, I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I'm just sitting in those bars and think up dreams to talk to him about the next morning. It's $65 an hour. You know, and then at that magic moment that they've dreamed of all of their academic career when you're going to experience this psychic change, you're drunk. And then after about two years, he gets honest, and he says, I don't believe I can help you anymore. And I think you should go to Alcoholics Anonymous. And then he hands you a bill. Oh, $37,000. thousand dollars no you take out your pen you write him a little check bank calls him and tells him it's no good and he jumps out the window if i was a psychiatrist have a sign on the door that said no drinkers allowed or people with peppermint on their breath either no i believe that they call alcoholics by all the wrong name i think that they ought to call us heroic you know here's a guy walking around town with a progressive terminal disease he doesn't even know he's gone and the symptoms are incredible he's got an ice cube in his gut with about 9 000 corners on it they're all sticking out and it's raining inside of your suit and you've got this little cloud over your head and you haven't read the big book so you don't know what that is all you know is that it's impending doom and you know that any minute you're going to get zapped and you feel like you're going to fly apart in a million pieces any second, and you just don't know what's wrong or what's happening, and your prayer is, my God, what's happening to me? What's going to become of me? You know, and then some goon walks up and says, how's everything? And you say, cool. And then at noon, you get the, at lunchtime, you get the flyaways. And when that pin would fly across the room, I knew I had to go to lunch right now, because if I didn't, I'd follow it. And I went to the only place that I knew that could cure that, to that magnificent magician behind the mahogany bar across the street. And the scenario for the day would start. And this is a description of my alcoholic behavior for the last ten years of my drinking when it was not possible for me to draw a sober breath. That is, at no time during any given 24-hour period would my blood alcohol content be less than .01. .01 .01 You go across the bar, and you've been going in there for five years, but you've got to be cool. The bartender comes up, and he says, what do you have? This padded sewer. And you look at your watch. It's an alcoholic watch. Only has one hand on it. Says, ten minutes of. I must be early. You say, well, I guess I have time for one martini. Huh? And then he turns around, and he says, just about. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . geometric levers and lash yourself all up around the bar stool and you get that thing down and you say your first prayer of the day my god i hope it works then your second prayer of the day god i hope it stays down nothing happens and finally the bartenders are so slow a half an hour later he finally comes back and he says well you have another one then you look at your watch again gotta be cool but it's not moving just like you are no insides you say well i guess i have time for one more and he brings you another one and and you get it down and and then the magic happens and and all of a sudden the lights go on and the heat comes on and and the rain inside your suit stops and that hole in your gut where the wind blows through is gone and the ice cube melts and the cloud leaves leaves your head and you can focus your eyes and you kind of have a a magic feeling of well-being and and then you pick up that glass with one hand because you're going to pass the test now and you look at that perfectly synchronized reflection of yourself in the back mirror huh solid as a rock right clint eastwood you devil then you look at this dummy next to you nice day that fell then some crap head says why do you drink are you kidding and you have to have five or six martinis to get comfortable for the rest of the afternoon you have to rush across the street to the office and work like crazy because the cocktail hour is coming you got to get back over there at five o'clock where all the big deals happen all those beautiful baby dolls are you know i always woke up with such ugly ones somebody traded in the middle of the night Marilyn Monroe had turned into some snaggly-toothed barracuda. You go over there and you drink until the traffic clears, and you never can meet a bartender that can make over about a 15-minute drink. And so you drink four drinks an hour until the traffic clears at 10 o'clock. That's 20 drinks. Now you can face traffic with confidence. You go out, just slide that key in the ignition, crank her up, and you've got to stop and buy a bottle of Cutty Sark on the way home in case guests come by. I didn't even know what a lower companion was until I became one. And then you go home and you open the top of the bottle and turn on the TV and get ready for your favorite program, Test Pattern. And you turn on the record player, listen to some of that music filled with hope, you know, like Ray Charles, Born to Lose. God, I love that. It's crying time. The Al-Anon song, Please Release Me. Boy, do they have a sickness, those Al-Anons. Terminal optimism. God, if he'd only quit drinking. Then we quit and their life's all over. Run out and marry another one of us. I know one broad down there in L.A. has married six of us. Goes to the graveyard three times. Six times a year. I told you that'd happen if you kept drinking, George. Don't drink at the graveyard, Sam. It was incredible. And you listen to that music and then you go to bed. That was the only question on the 20 questions that I flunked. The one that says, does alcohol interfere with your sleeping? I put, no. My sponsor said, passed out is not sleeping, dummy. Six o'clock, the alarm goes off and you're up like a tiger into the shower, ready to fly. Face another day, oh, God. I get out of bed, I got more than enough blood alcohol content to go to jail for drunk driving. And I'm wondering if I have a little eye opener. And at noon, I'm going through withdrawal and I don't know that. I don't know that. And the more successful I get, the more my alcoholism progresses. And I never know what's wrong. I never know what's wrong. And these weird things keep happening. Like losing my wife in Catalina on Saturday night. And I wake up in this motel room and two things are going on that are impossible for an alcoholic to withstand. I'm alone and thirsty. And obviously, she's run off with my bottle. So I decided to find it. So I got up, went next door. I knocked on the door. An obvious boor answered the door and slammed it in my face. I went to the next one. Knocked on the door. And a man of letters, a gentleman, answered the door. And I explained my plight to him. And he said, well, you know, he said, I understand your problem completely. But he said, I'd like to point out two things before you go any further that may have escaped your attention. And I said, oh, indeed, sir. And what might that be? He said, well, first of all, at 3 o'clock, in the morning, and second of all, you're stark naked. Those few occasions when a professional drinker oversteps the mark are so embarrassing. And I learned how to drink from professionals, too. You know, you can really become a professional if you hang in there. You've got to be willing to go to any length. You've got to be willing to sacrifice everything to become a professional drinker. You know, wives, families, jobs, bank accounts, driving privileges, automobiles, your health. You've got to be willing to go all the way. But if you hang in there through that training period, you know, where you've got to leave your foot out of the bed to keep the world from turning around, like, you can make it if you really hang in there. One day, this real pro that I just loved him, we worked on the ski patrol together. And he picked me up at home to go to Mammoth because the snow was rotting down in Southern California. And, God, we got all the way to Mulholland, which is about 3 o'clock in the morning. Three minutes away, we drove. And I was nervous. I'd forgotten to bring my driving and passenger bottle. And I turned to him. Mine was up on top of the car in the ski poles. And I said, do we have anything to drink? And he said, well, certainly. And he handed me this hose out from under the dashboard. And I said, what the hell is that? I wanted a drink, not an enema. And he said, well, just put that in your mouth and pull the windshield washer knob. Two ounces of Cutty Sars. By the time we got to Ventura Boulevard, about five minutes away, it was my turn to drive. Through Red Rock Canyon, 106 miles an hour. And we'd always stop in Mojave and refuel, take on a little gas, too. Then it was snowing or cold while we'd drive home in style and put Reynolds Wrap or aluminum foil over the heat risers of the exhaust manifold. And all the way to Lone Pine, we'd have hot butts. We'd have hot-buttered rum. I really screwed up the windshield washers, but who needed those? Especially when you, when he had the eye drops that a professional drinker keeps. He'd keep them in the icebox. Huh? Well, I'll tell you, that snapped your eye right open there. Really neat. And so the progression continues, and at the age of 24, I was one of the youngest subdividers in Southern California. I was building over 200 houses a year. And I could have been anything. I could have gone anywhere. I could have done anything. And I did not know that I was a terminal alcoholic. Maybe some of you might not identify with my story because I was a terminal alcoholic. I went as far as you can go, and then I went one step further, like I did with everything. If you drink like I did for as long as I did. I'm a terminal alcoholic. I'm a terminal alcoholic. I'm a terminal alcoholic. And one day I sprung a leak, and it made me nervous because it was blood, and it was mine. So I determined that maybe I ought to go to the hospital. I'm a pretty bright guy. And I managed to drive halfway there, and then I stopped and picked up some potential Al-Anon, and she drove me the rest of the way. And I don't remember anything until I came to. And I knew exactly where I was. I knew exactly where I was. I was in the intensive care unit of St. John's Hospital. And I'd been in those ICU units many times, those broken bodies they used to help bring down off of the hills in the ski patrol. And I looked up, and my doctor was looking down at me. And there were tears in his eyes. And I said, what's the matter, Doc? And he said, damn you. He said, I told you you were going to die if you kept on drinking. And he says, now you've done it. And he said, I can't save you. And I said, no big deal. You know, they don't understand that an alcoholic doesn't have to be very old to live too long. My prayer was, my God, I don't have to go through another day. My prayer was not that I might die. My prayer was, don't let me live another day like this. I had no problem with one day at a time when you found me. And I said, well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Doc. I'm sorry. You know, maybe you ought to bring me a pencil, a piece of paper. I ought to write a note to somebody. I'm a pretty big deal, you know. And he shook his head. And I said, why am I dying? And he said, because you have cirrhosis of the liver, hemorrhagic pancreatitis, alcoholic gastritis, and hemorrhaging ulcers, and your blood pressure is 60 over 40, and we can't stop the bleeding. I understood all of that. And I didn't care. And I looked up at him and I said, just don't cry anymore. I said, you've done a good job. And it doesn't really matter. And then he said the dumbest thing I've ever heard a human being say in my whole life. He said, you know, I won't even treat you unless you promise me you'll never drink again. I promise. Gotta keep him happy. And he said, you better not do that anymore. And ten days and a thousand dollars later, I was back out on the streets drunk again. By now I was drinking a special concoction that allows you to drink and bleed to death and die and be comfortable. It came in a 20-ounce mint julep glass. And I learned about it through a series of magic people like the paramedics. And they put shaved ice in it because that freezes the stomach lining so you don't get all of this hemorrhaging going on right away. And then you put a couple of hookers of Belafonte. And that kind of anesthetizes the stomach lining so you don't get that adverse reaction. And then you crush a few probanthine pills in it. And that keeps the pancreas from spraying acid all over the place. And then you put a whole bunch of cream in it. And then you break about eight Librium pills in it. That's in case this whole mess doesn't work, you don't care. And fill it up with shaved ice and top it off with about six hookers of Cutty Stark. And that way you can drink and die. And I woke up one afternoon in the basement of a little house I owned in Silver Lake. I had to live in the basement because I couldn't afford to live in the house. I had it rented. That house went into foreclosure every two weeks. And I was dying of another part of the disease that I had no idea existed. I was dying of loneliness. And I couldn't drink because of pain. You know, the pain of pancreatitis is the most exquisite pain that I've ever experienced in my entire life. It hurts. It hurts so bad I had to get out of bed to turn over. And I blew my head up deep sea diving. And I've broken and bent most everything in my body. And I've never experienced anything like that. And all I knew was that for two days I could not drink. And I could not live. But you know, even when you're dying and you're an alcoholic, you've got to be cool. I called this little lady I used to drink with. And I said, Helen, this is a big tip. And she said, huh. And I'm available for dinner. What a treat. She said, well, you can't come over for dinner because I'm going to have a sandwich and go to a meeting. And I know you won't want to go. And I didn't know that she was praying for me. After dinner, she took me to the first real meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous that I'd ever been to. In a little park in Beverly Hills where I used to play as a kid on Roxbury. And I don't know what I heard that night. And I don't know what I saw. But after that meeting, a little gal by the name of Jeannie Johnson invited us over to her house. And that was the first time that I realized that Alcoholics Anonymous just begins in these meetings here. Where it really is is in the hearts and the homes of you people. And that night, I met a guy by the name of Eric Bloor that used to be my high school idol. He was a four-year letterman in four sports. And my God, he'd been sober for four months. And I thought, God, if he's got this thing, maybe it isn't such a crummy disease after all. Because I knew all about alcohol, alcoholism. I'd admitted that I was an alcoholic six years before I got to the program. And I'd been to some of your meetings. I used to go regularly, about once every two years. But I went to the wrong meetings. I should have gone to the meeting that Big Al from the Hole in the Ground used to describe over in Hawaii. . . . He described the first meeting that he went to. And he said that he was standing out in front of this meeting hall in an old pair of broken-down Huaraches. And a pair of sawed-off Levi's. And a wine stain Hawaiian shirt. And an old, wielded Pomfron hat on. And yesterday's lei around his neck. You know, the flower kind. He said, all of a sudden, this long, black Lincoln Continental convertible whispered up to the curb. And he said, this guy got out of that car. And he said, his shoes were manicured. He said he had a great big three-carat diamond pinky ring. And he said he stood up. And this little blonde baby doll slid over behind the wheel. And he looked at this diamond watch of his. And he looked down at her. And he said, you'll be here at three and a half minutes after ten. And he said, when that guy stood up and said, if you want what we have, I listened. My first meeting wasn't like that. It was in some old foreign legion hall somewhere. And nobody paid the light bill. And there was some little guy standing up behind the microphone. And I didn't know he was there for a long time. He just turned sideways. Finally, he turned around and he said something like, if you want what we have. I thought, shit, you know, if you've got anything, hang on to it. You need it more than I do. You know, he got to that part where it says, none of us are perfect. And I said, you can say that again and split. But I'd gone as far as I could with alcoholism. I'd even tried suicide and failed. One night, I came home. And I looked in the mirror and there was an animal looking back. And I knew that I couldn't go on anymore. And I went upstairs and I dug my .45 automatic out of my bedside table. I kept it there because they were after me. You don't have to be paranoid to know they're after you. I qualified expert with a .45 automatic. I hit what I aimed at. I jacked the shell in the chamber and I took dead aim between my eyes and pulled the trigger. And when the smoke and the flame all cleared away, well, I'd blown a $90 mirror off the wall. I had a tenant living next door by the name of Art Cole at the time. He told me it was all right if I broke his animosity. It scared him so bad, he ran out and joined AA six years later. I saw him at his first meeting. I said, that's a nice sport coat you got on, Art. You got a large moth in your place, though. He'd been in that sport coat when that bullet hit. He'd be dead. God, did he drink. I used to look at those wine bottles in his garbage when I'd go out there to empty my bottles in his trash. God, I thought if I ever get that bad, I'm going to quit. I saw him down in West Los Angeles last week. He thinks I'm his press agent now. I love him like I do all of you people. That night over at Jeannie's house, I met a little guy by the name of Eddie Jenkins. And Eddie was an engineer and I had a big engineering background. He was the first person on Alcoholics Anonymous that I identified with. And we became fast friends. And two years after I came on the program, Eddie had to go out and drink again. Because he was an alcoholic and he flunked the test. See, you're all going to get a test. The only thing I can't tell you is I can't tell you when. But my only authority is the book of Alcoholics Anonymous. And it tells us that every one of us is going to have a test. See, it says this. It says that there'll come a time in the life of every alcoholic where there'll be no physical defense against taking the first drink. It goes on to say that my only defense at that time will be if I've been practicing the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous in my daily affairs, if I have my spiritual house in order. And something went wrong with Eddie and he hadn't been doing that. And he had to drink again. And when we got him back into the Veterans Hospital, it was too late. And he died that night. He died so that I could be sober. And he saved my life, like all of you. And that first year that I was sober, you made me feel like Alcoholics Anonymous had just been invented for me. And I mix up the words sobriety and dryness and excuse me. Because I didn't get sober for a lot of years on this program. I was just dry. And that first year, the only emotion that I knew was rage. I knew that every other emotion of a feeling human being had been amputated from me forever. And I would never cry again. And I would certainly never know the meaning of love. And all I knew was rage. And you people kept saying those magic things that I've heard those old-timers say so many times. They'd say, Ted, all you have to do is put your hand in ours and come with us. Because we've been there and we know the way. But hang on real tight and don't let go. Because if you let go, we're going to lose you. And if you're new or old, it doesn't matter. Just keep hanging on. And if you're a newcomer, I've got a prayer for you. See, I pray to God that you can just keep coming back to these meetings and listening to the music until you can understand the words. Listening to the music of alcoholics maybe for the first time in their lives able to laugh at themselves. The healing magic of the love and the love of God. The healing magic of the love and the laughter of Alcoholics Anonymous and God working through people. And that first year, you dragged me all of those places I should have been as a permanent guest because of alcohol. You took me to Terminal Island where I should have been for manslaughter behind the wheel of a lethal weapon and to Hatchipee State Prison where I should have been a permanent guest for first-degree premeditated murder of which I'm fully capable behind alcohol. And Camarillo where I should have been forever with permanent and irreversible brain damage because of alcohol. And you took me to the detox centers and the 12-step houses and the hospitals and the institutions. All of those places. That first year that I was on the program, I met a beautiful guy and his name was Jimmy Ryan. Maybe some of you have heard of Jimmy. Jimmy and I became fast friends. That first year we went to almost 700 meetings together. And then about six months later, he introduced me to the first course on counseling on alcoholism and related disorders because I wanted to know everything I could about this incredible disease that I had. And everybody said, you're going to get drunk. Because I only had six months in the program. But I didn't get drunk because I listened to you and I did what you said. And they were talking about the tools. The tools of Alcoholics Anonymous last night. And I think they missed a lot of the important ones. They gave me a big book and they told me that was the tool box and the tools were in it. And they were incorporated in the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. But I couldn't work those steps until I was ready. Until I qualified with all of those qualifications that go in Chapter 5 before those 12 steps ever start. And I was ready to go to any length. Abandoning yourself to God, willing to give up all of your old ideas. Wanting what you people have. And I didn't even know what you had. Until one of the old timers said, hey, if you're a bottom line player like I am, why don't you read page 83 and 84 of the 12 Promises of Alcoholics Anonymous. And you'll find out what we have. And then maybe, maybe you'll want it. And if you're new and you wonder what we have, please read it. I know that all of those promises and many more in the book, all of them have come true for me. And today I'm free. I fear no person, place or thing. I'm free to do the things that I have to do because I want to do them. At that first course on alcoholism at UCLA, I heard a guy get up and deliver one of the most beautiful speeches that I've ever heard. In a desperate attempt to explain Alcoholics Anonymous, to non-alcoholics. And for God's sake, don't ever try and do that. You know, you're just counseling with a fool. And that night I heard Alan McGinnis get up and give that talk. And they put it in one of our pamphlets, A Member's Eye View of Alcoholics Anonymous. If you have not read it, read it. It's just another part of the magic of Alcoholics Anonymous. Finally, after the first year of just white-knuckle dryness and rage, one night in that basement of my little house in Silver Lake, I reached the end of my rope and I couldn't go any further. And I knew that I was going to just have to become willing to turn my life and my will over the care of God. And I got down on my knees and I said, God, I just can't go on any further. I just can't stand any more pain. I'm just going to give it all to you and you take it without any reservations at all forever. And that night he did for me what he'll do for you if you ask him. He set me free. And then I made a terrible mistake. I called my sponsor. See, because they'd given me these tools and I didn't finish talking about the tools. They said, you need some other things. You need an address book and a pencil to write these dummies' names down and their phone numbers. And you need some dimes so you can call them when the heat's on and the hammer's down. And you need that pencil and piece of paper because you're going to use it for your inventory. And you're going to use it to maybe put down one idea that you hear at one meeting. And that's why I love speaker meetings because I never fail to go to one that I don't hear one thing I can pull my trigger on and I can make a part of that speaker a part of me and take him home or take her home. Just like I'm going to go home, from this magnificent roundup this weekend, and I'm going to take a piece of each one of the beautiful speakers that I've heard and make them a part of me. And you need those tools and you need to use them. And you better get a sponsor and you better listen to what he has to say. If he's not walking the walk and talking the talk and if he isn't living, or her, living the kind of life you'd want to have, fire him and get another one. And you better do it before they fire you, too. And I called my sponsor and I said, I think I just took step three. Well, what do I do now? He said, read the book. I'm an academic giant. I said, I've read it and found it lacking. I said, what's it say? He said, why don't you pick it up and read that next sentence after what you've heard at every meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous that you've been to. I said, well, what's it say? He said, read it. I think it's one of the most important sentences in the entire book of Alcoholics Anonymous because it tells you exactly where you are with the program. It told me what you hear at the end of chapter five that's read in California all the time. Made clear three pertinent ideas. A, B, C. A, that we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives. And B, that no human power could have relieved our alcoholism, but God could and would if he were soft. And that next sentence says, being convinced of this. Being convinced you are at step three. And I said, turn over the page and read step three. And keep reading it. He says, if I could, he said, I'd print it on your eyeballs. And then pick up a pencil and an old piece of paper and write your inventory. And get it done. And keep it simple. And that's what I did. And it was pretty simple. Because I was pretty simple. I still think I only have about one brain cell left. Every once in a while I feel another one waking up. And then that horrible terror comes because I know I'm going to do that one thing that I must not do. Start thinking. Because one side of my mind is out to mug me. And it wakes up and it says things like, a little light menthol after dinner won't hurt. That was after I'd quit smoking for three years. And I believed it. Right back up to two packs a day. So keep it simple. And then you get on to the amends. You know, I'd like to share something with you on the amends. And I don't hear it very often. See, my book says that we became willing to make amends to all of those people that we have harmed. I'd like to ask the people that have taken that step to put up their hands. Now, keep your hands up. I would like those that forgave themselves to put your hands down. See, I don't hear that very often. This book tells me that it's an inside job. I cannot give away what I do not have. I cannot hate another human being unless I despise myself. I cannot judge another human being unless I condemn myself. And I cannot certainly love another human being until I've loved myself and learned to do that. And that's what the old timers told me. They said, please, just let us love you until you can learn to love yourself. And I had to do that. And I cannot forgive another human being nor ask another human being to forgive me until and only if I've forgiven myself. And I say that in the Lord's Prayer every time I say it. Forgive me. And so I have to ask him. And I know that if he's my father, and I'm one of his kids, why, he's going to forgive me. And then I can get on with it. Then I can get on with it. And if someone's passed away that you'd like to make amends to, I'd like to pass this on, because it's a magic. If someone's passed away and you'd like to make amends to them, sit down with a pencil and a piece of paper. See, because there's a magic that happens between a pencil and a piece of paper that does not happen between the mind and the mouth. You realize that if somebody had not picked up a pencil and a piece of paper, nothing in this world would have ever happened. They started trying to do it by scratching on the walls of their caves and they've been doing it ever since. And without pencils and pieces of paper, there'd be no architecture. There'd be no buildings. There'd be no beautiful art. There'd be no marvelous music. There'd be no Bible. There certainly would be no book of Alcoholics Anonymous. If someone hadn't picked up a pencil and a piece of paper. So write to this person. Sit down in a room quietly by yourself. And write in the first person just as if they were sitting there. And they could be. They could be sitting right there. And say all of those things that you wanted to say but never did. Express all of those emotions that you want to do and you never could. And after you're finished, go some quiet place. It doesn't matter where. You could go to their grave. It doesn't matter. But go to some quiet place and read it out loud in the first person just like they were there. Because they could be. They could be right there. And after you've read it, burn it. And I promise you a magic that you will only know if you do it. You see, the old timers used to talk about this program working the way you learn to ride a bicycle. And I don't hear that much anymore. And I never went to a speaker meeting or a discussion meeting or read a book to learn how to ride a bicycle. You just get on it and ride it. And I can tell you all about balance. I can tell you about the semi-circular canals in the ears and the synapse of the brain and the automatic muscle reflexes that keep you upright in relationship to gravity and all the rest of that. Knowing that, why you ought to be able to go ride out and ride a bicycle but you won't. You'll fall on your ass. See, because knowledge is not worth a damn until it becomes wisdom which is applied through pain. And that's just the way it is. And the easiest ones to teach how to ride a bicycle are monkeys. And that's not because they got something extra to hang on with either. It's because they don't think. They just climb on and ride because it looks like fun and if they fall down they just get up and dust themselves off and try it again and that's what you have to do. And get a sponsor and put him in the front and get two of these other people and put them on either side. They're your training wheels and don't take them off for a long, long time. And that's how you do it. One day at a time. And then finally end up with step 10. And now you're trapped. Because the first half of step 10 is four, five, six and seven all wrapped up into one thing. People say turn it over but they never tell you how to turn it over. A bank robber can tell you how to turn it over. He holds a gun in your face and he says turn it over and you wrap it up in a package and you give it to him and that's how you got to turn it over. You got to ride it and then you got to become willing to share it with somebody because then it doesn't weigh so much and then it's more honest. And then you can become willing to ask God to help you with it and then you can ask him and you just put the package on his bench so he can work on it in his time, not yours. And if you reach over and grab it back again you just got to do it over. And I know the difference between God's will and mine today. I just laugh at these discussion meetings where they end up spending two hours trying to figure out what's my will and what's God's will. Keep it simple. Mine hurts, his doesn't. I got a big pain in my gut. Well then I got to write about it and I got to share it with one of you and then I got to ask God to help me with it and I can turn it over. Separated by a comma the last sentence of the last half of step ten is eight and nine. Eight and nine. Until maybe a magic day when you find out that maybe you've gotten through a whole day and you've found that you've been able to love people enough so that you have not done anything that made it necessary to make an amend. And then you'll know that love really is not having to say you're sorry because you haven't done anything to make it necessary. And eleven and twelve are yours. They're yours. Just for you. To carry the magic thing finally that's been given to you as a gift to God. I believe that every human being that comes into these meetings is led here by a very special grace of God and he's given a gift. A gift of sobriety and there's only one thing there's only two things you can do with a gift. You can accept it or throw it away. And if you're new that's the most important decision of your whole life no matter which way you decide right now. And if you keep doing that and hanging on to these old timers and letting them love you until you can learn to love yourself finally one day pray God you'll look in a mirror and the person that's looking back will no longer be an animal no longer be someone you absolutely despise someone you can't trust you can't spend a minute alone with someone you'd just rather be anybody than that person in the entire world. Pray God the person looking back will be a friend someone you can trust and have respect for. And then one day real quietly just to yourself you'll hear yourself say into that mirror I love you and you'll be a whole and complete human being maybe for the first time in your life. And then you'll know what I know. And the greatest distance known to mankind is the distance from the head to the heart see where academic knowledge becomes wisdom and you know. And then you'll understand a little gal that stood up at the at a memorial service that we had in Beverly Hills for one of my dearest dearest friends on Alcoholics Anonymous a guy by the name of Eddie Reagan maybe a lot of you've heard him. At the end of that service it was held by Father Terry White a little gal stood up and she was Eddie Reagan's daughter. And in one sentence she explained the entire magic of Alcoholics Anonymous. She stood up with tears streaming down her eyes and she said I just want to thank all of you people from Alcoholics Anonymous for having given back my father. And I thought yeah. How many fathers have we given back and mothers and daughters and sons and sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and how many broken human beings has the love of the program of Alcoholics Anonymous and God what no human power could do has helped put back together. And that's the magic that you'll know. I promise you because it was promised me and it came true. In closing I I'd just like to share one little story with you about my daughter that I've got a daughter that's been sober nine years on this program. That's no big deal because she's only nine. We went skiing last year and it was only her fourth time on skis and you know I know that I can't teach anybody anything that I'm emotionally involved with. And so I put her in ski school and at lunch when we came down from the big hill to have lunch why she came up to me and she said Daddy can I go up on the big hill? Ha! I said of course not. You're too little. And she said just what I always said Why not? So I thought I'd settle it I'd go and talk to her ski instructor and I did and the ski instructor said Well of course I think she can go up on the number two lift. Made me mad. Took me took me two years to get up on that lift. Well I stood around for a year and a half looking good. As we started up the chairlift we got higher and higher and further and further away from each other. From the lodge she began to get frightened and she began to cry and you know what I wanted to say to her Shut up kid you're making me look bad. People think I'm beating on you. But I don't have to tell her things like like I was told like like there's nothing to be afraid of. See? I can tell her it's okay to be afraid because if it's okay to be afraid then you can accept it and when you accept it it just runs out of power and it's all over. And when we got to the top of the hill I she looked up at me and there was tears streaming down her face and her little face was filled with fear and and she said Daddy she said you don't understand. She said you're a great big professional and I'm just a tiny little beginner. And that's when your words came to me like they always do when the heat's on and the hammer's down. I looked down at her and I said honey let's play a little game. Pretend like you've got your hand in mine and come with me because I am a professional and I've been there. And it's going to be okay because I know the way. But hang on real tight and don't let go. Because if you let go I'm going to lose you. And that's the way we went down that mountain my little daughter and I. And when we got to the bottom she looked up at me with laughter shining in her face and her eyes smiling in tears. And she said Daddy can we do it again? And without you people and the magic program of Alcoholics Anonymous I'd have missed it all. And we're out of time and I have to close. And time is all we have. And just before I close I'd like to pass on something that I heard Dennis Waitley say and I love it. He says take time. Take time to look at the flowers as they open each morning on your way to work. And take time to listen to the birds and listen to their song because they get fewer every spring. And take time to work because you can't enjoy the view unless you climb the unless you scale the mountain. And take time to play because children get old when they grow up. And take time for the children because they leave us so fast. They get shot from the home like arrows from a bow. And take time for the older people because the only hope they have is that they'll see us again. And take time for animals because they can tell you something about this world and it's their world too. And take time for books because books have the knowledge of the world and they can take you places where you can't go just yet. And take time to smile because a smile means the same in every language. And take time for your health because health is the elixir of life and we never appreciate it until it's gone. And for God's sake, take time for love because love is the essence of life. And try to live each day as if it were your last and love each moment of every day because there just isn't any time to do anything else. And maybe one of these days I'll get extra lucky and I'll be sitting out in that audience and one of you newcomers will be standing up at a podium like this and you'll be getting your first year birthday cake. And maybe I'll see a tear in your eye and hear a catch in your voice and then I'll know that you know. I'll know that you've fallen in love with a program of Alcoholics Anonymous. And maybe if I get extra lucky I'm going to hear you say something like I'm going to say right now. Thank God from the bottom of my heart for allowing each one of you to have touched my life. Thank you.