I Got Nothing I Asked For But Everything I’d Hoped For – Walter O.

I have a feeling that I have had from the first time I ever looked at an AA book or Twelve Steps, or that I ever looked into the eyes of a recovering alcoholic, the first one, my sponsor. And all through the years and down the line until I met Bill W. and Lois, that the confirmation of my belief in God was so revealed in the eyes and the actions of all the AAs and Alamoas I have ever met. I have got the belief that I am a true believer. I have got the belief that I am a true believer. I have got the belief that there was an open line when it was necessary from that power greater than we are to Bill and then to Dr. Bob and the two of them and on down the line. When you hear so many new ones here who have come to their first convention and heard from the specialists who are leading the organization and also the O pursuing the freedom for drug 13 range inda, the religious circles who have come in to rob you of your freedom, the mysterious power of your dear family, that is abdominallate from among you, which means that you without a doubt do not sü befülle, be present and be surely clue as you are. ευε Chan della fosse inyesider come��릴게요. I am there for you and someone as complete as us. The rest of you fall måste shall strutte, and so am I. Be the see rather. So many people have made this possible here. I have not heard anything but the best AA talks I have ever heard. And I wish that those, all except Father Ed and Walter, that all of the other speakers who have talked, and I would like to introduce them, to stand and hold their applause as we introduce them. Yev, will you stand on the end? Betty and Norm? Jack? Yes. Yes. Come have your�� ... Cassidy and ... Well... I'm going to get her later. And Midge and Ruth and Evelyn ... Mary ... Mary and ... Mary and Doctor Ed? Jack? Can't you see? Seat! próprio? anybody down here? And I don't want to get, I don't want to miss this guy here with Pauline. This is Pauline's husband, Gene T. Last time I couldn't remember, and I said, oh, hell, I can't remember, it's Pauline's husband. Gene, will you stand, please? Now, there are many other speakers out in the audience. Those of you who have already talked, will you stand, please? The other speakers. Mike? Many of you out there, will you stand, please? And all the Al-Anon speakers, all of them, will you stand, please? Okay, let's give them a hand. That has been wonderful. Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Oh, I wasn't this, I have, I don't know what I'm going to do about this, but I've fallen in love with Walter's wife. A little Betty here, Betty Spahn, has done a gracious job helping Cecily and visiting with her and introducing her and the head of the hostess committee. We made her head of the host committee, but she turned her badge in and said she wanted to be the hostess. So we changed that. We've had several changes in the program, as you might notice. But every single person here who has taught, or every single person, and you know who you are, who have given of yourself and your time and your efforts, has made it possible to bring now to you the guy who I think is one of the greatest AA's I've ever known. He called me tonight on the telephone, addressing, and he said, Say, what is, do you happen to have one of your Tom Lovern's phone numbers? He said, I was just sitting here and thinking, I've got to be grateful and I've got to call that guy. And I happened to think about him. And every day of his life and every minute of his life, he would call me and say, I'm so grateful that I'm so grateful that I'm so grateful that I've been here 27, 28, 29 years. God, I hope that I keep that enthusiasm and that I never forget to remember to be grateful, and then I think God will give me sobriety. And as long as I can be grateful as this guy and give as much to AA as he gives, I'm going to be grateful. I'll always be grateful. I wish I could. I want you now to hear one of the greatest, Walter O'Keefe. Good evening, my dear parishioners. My name is Walter O'Keefe, and I'm an alcoholic. I always save the paper. Isn't that what you said, Lois? I always save the paper. I always save the paper. You'd never get to the top in Washington. I am so happy to be here, and I picked up a piece of intelligence from the Houston Gazette or Chronicle, and I understood that the speakers for this would be headed by Jack B. of Hollywood. Now, I know a Jack B. out there. I know a Jack B. of Hollywood. He is a gentleman who made a great reputation in radio and television, starring on a show called Gay for a Day. And you people have meant so much to my life and to my wife, and on behalf of my wife and my children. I just want to thank you for your hospitality. You know, an awful lot of fellows in my business get up into their frivolous fifties and they get delusions of grandeur. They look at some tantalizing tidbit in their tempting twenties, and they overestimate themselves. I'll tell you what I hate to see. No. The latest example is Avery Brundage. Avery was 85. He married a girl 34. I'll tell you what I hate to see him. I'll tell you the way I feel. I hate to see a man take on a full day's work late in the afternoon. Now, this is a spiritual experience. It's also cultural. I had to go to Canada. I had to go up to Saskatchewan about seven weeks ago. And mind you, I'm a man of the century. I was born in 1900. And I... In 1925, I went to work on Broadway for a missionary named Texas Guinan. And she was probably the most notorious woman in America at that time. And this was the most outrageous nightclub. And I started there in 1925. And I was very intimate with the gang world. I knew public enemy number one, two, and three. They were my bosses. And... And yet, I never had any contact until just recently. With hard pornography in the printed word. And I happened to go into a grocery store and a bookstore near me. And here is a... Is the book that I'm sure has sold big in Texas. And so, I'll tell you my next contact with it. I was shocked when I read it. And then I set out to Saskatchewan. They said, Walter, come to Vancouver first. Stay overnight there. Get on the 1035. Come to Saskatoon and Cecil will pick you up. And that'll be it. And I said, Walter, I'm going to Vancouver. And he said, I'm going to Vancouver. And I said, I'm going to Vancouver. And he said, I'm going to Vancouver. And I said, I'm going to Vancouver. And he said, I'm going to Vancouver. And I said, I'm going to Vancouver. And he said, I'm going to Vancouver. And I said, I'm going to Vancouver. And he said, I'm going to Vancouver. And I said, I'm going to Vancouver. An old man doubted it. Everyone's hearing that. I said, I don't know anything at all. Of course, it's not me according to the letters. I said, Go see państwo. Go see K- Policy Natural Resources Lakes Coll drastic. Well, here's the thing. I said, her business was really business. I said, Yeah, I could get her a new book and a new flyer. In fact, a new monthly product. But she told me that Yuvedrup was acting out the wrong thing. I said, Well, I'll pay the preference money and the generic value of a journal article issue. Wait, that all I want is MY feature? you should have seen this person. She was in her 80s. She weighed in her 70s. She had a beautiful spiritual face with a white crown of hair. And she paused and said, could I sit there? And I said, yes, you can sit there. And she sat down, put on her seatbelt. The plane took off. She opened her bag and started to read. And she was reading The Happy Hooker. Well, when they revived me, when I got off the floor, she turned something about the lunch and I had to ask one more question. And I turned into this lovely smiling face that says, how are you enjoying your book? And this was the answer. Oh, very much. You see, I've retired. And to this day, I'm a writer. I don't know whether she was an old troll. And we shouldn't be harsh in our judgment. Maybe she was more slept against than sleeping, as the poet said. And so I go on to other things. And I wanted to tell you one story about Mr. Nixon's visit to China. And he sat with Chairman Mao Zedong that first night. And the president said to the chairman, he says, Mr. Chairman, have you ever speculated? Have you stopped and thought, what might have been the course of history if an assassin's bullet had killed Mr. Khrushchev instead of Mr. Kennedy? And the chairman dropped his head. He looked up and he says, well, one thing's for sure. One thing is certainly for sure. He wouldn't have married Mrs. Khrushchev. And where did I blow that? Oh, Nassus wouldn't have married Mrs. Khrushchev. You know, I thought a good story went wrong there. And I've got so much to talk to you people about and there's so many good tidings. I want to show you the latest publicity. I love all the publicity Alcoholics Anonymous is getting. And here is Ann Landers, the syndicated columnist, and I will read it to you. Dear Ann, I have been married for 30 years to a man who is turning into an oversexed alcoholic. That is a ridiculous statement. Any professor of grammar would say that's redundant. It goes on, he drinks almost a case of beer every night and even more on weekends. When I tell him he's becoming an alcoholic, he points to his work record. He has not missed a day in six years and insists that people cannot be alcoholics if they stick to beer and work regularly. I admit it's amazing that his work record is so good. I also find it amazing that he can be so amorous just before he passes out. Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Which he does almost every night. Laughter Maybe that's why I signed aggravated Edna. Laughter I have one more piece of intelligence from the Gazette. Terry is always looking for material for me. God love her. And she gave me this one. This is the Associated Press in Milwaukee. Mrs. Robert Saunders, 49, who said her husband has been missing since he walked out. The door in 1962, in search of a beer, was granted a divorce Tuesday on the grounds of desertion. Judge Marie Spraker referring to Milwaukee as the beer capital of the world said, it shouldn't take nine years to get a beer in Milwaukee. Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter Laughter You know, we have a... Laughter We have had so much political talk in recent weeks and recent months that I want to pass on a story that's probably too old for most of you, but you see now I'm officially a member of the Geritol set, and I can pass this on. And this comes from my time, my generation, and it has to do with Chairman Jim Farley, and I look at all these speakers around here who have pierced you to the core and have lifted me to a higher high than I've ever known before. Honestly, you have been brilliant, you have been dazzling, you have been edifying, and you have been very, very moving and very exciting. And I'm thinking back to the story of Jim Farley. And he, as you know, was the man who created the world. He created a presidency for Franklin Roosevelt and was rewarded with a place in the cabinet as postmaster general. Well, now that took Jim Farley, a gentleman from a little town up the Hudson, and catapulted him into the social spotlight. He was always at the head table, if it was diplomatic or social or something. And one night Jim came a little bit late and he slid into his seat. The banquet had already started, the soup was there. And Jim turned to the left and here was an Oriental. And Jim, being anxious to open negotiations, with China, said, uh, likey soupy? And the Chinese looked at Jim and said, likey soupy? The pièce de résistance was chicken under glass. And when the chicken came, he figured, well, I killed him the first time, I'll try it again. And he looked over and he says, likey chicky? And the Oriental looked at Jim and says, likey chicky? When it came time for the toastmaster to introduce himself, he was the first person to speak with the evening. Now, you know what the Nielsen reports are that give the popularity of the shows on television and radio, and who's the number one, number two. In the realm of scholarship, if there were an analogous device, the name of Dr. Hu Shi would rate, I think, about third in terms of honorary degrees, because Dr. Hu Shi was first graduated in China, then from Cornell. He had a Rhodes Scholarship and went to Oxford, where he picked up an exquisite Oxford accent. Went into the academic world, and in the subsequent 30 years, was the winner of exactly 187 honorary degrees. In a flawless English accent, he got up and delivered a talk that drew a standing ovation. And then as he slid down next to Farley, he leaned over and says, likey speechy? You know, there's an old axiom, an old axiom that says, blessed is the man who knows why he was born. And I've lived long enough to know why I was born. I was born to be a drunk, and to be gentled home by you people. To be taught, to be encouraged, to be comforted, to be given back my self-respect by you, to have you throw a log or two in the fire of hope, and to restore me to a life that is richer than anything I've ever known before. And as a matter of fact, I was born to survive. And I'll tell you what I've survived, because many people come up and say, how are you feeling, Walter? And I protest. I'm feeling fine. And they say, you look great in all that jazz. Well, anyway, here's what I've survived. I survived infantile paralysis, six kidney stone operations, five heart attacks, two cancer operations, two pneumonias, two broken legs, allergies, asthma, sciatica. And if you think the younger generation doesn't understand us, you're out of your mind. My boy Anthony, my number two son, understands me perfectly. For Christmas, he gave me a $100 gift certificate to ask me to come to his house. And I gave him a $100 gift certificate to Abby Rents, the hospital supply firm. So tonight, as I find myself in this exquisite position, I know I was born for this minute. It's no accident that I'm here. Let me qualify myself a little better. I'm the son of an alcoholic. I'm the father of an alcoholic. This family has been tyrannized by liquor for three generations. I'm the father of an alcoholic. This family has been tyrannized by liquor for three generations. But there's light on the horizon. And I used to close my radio show years ago with a very felicitous phrase that came from the lyrical Irish, Live in my heart and pay no rent. I say that at the beginning, right here, now. And I invite you to come into my heart and take away whatever you find in there. Because when I came into this organization in 1950, In 1955, that heart was empty. That place was hollow. And you even tore down the doors so that you could get in with the imperishable, eternal truths that I want to share with you tonight. You won't hear very much original from me. That's not important. I've listened to all of these gifted speakers. I've listened to all of these gifted speakers. I've been fascinated by their talks. And I realize my situation is a bit different. All of these things that you've taught me are sort of summed up. I quoted the other night at the show. I quoted Teilhard de Chardin, Who delivered that beautiful line. For those of you who weren't there, I'll repeat it. The only thing that has value is what is of you and me. And what is of me and you. Well, there's an awful lot of Circe in me. There's an awful lot of Lois in me. There's an awful lot of Alabama. And Norm. And everybody in this organization. And then Teilhard de Chardin has another line that's appropriate at this minute because I'm going to throw up a couple of grabs to start with. You are today where your thoughts have brought you. You will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you. You cannot escape the result of your thoughts, but you can endure and learn. You can accept and be glad. Now for a man who was empty only 18 years ago, Let me qualify where I was at that time. I was as you have been in hell. And as Thomas Merton says, hell is a place where nobody has anything in common with anybody else except that they hate each other. And they can't get away from themselves and from each other. There's another definition of hell I pass on now. Because you've been there, I know. And that's where the brand is. The brand of common suffering we bear so honorably today. And here's the other definition. Hell is a place where one no longer hopes for anything. Where one no longer loves anybody. Where one no longer expects anything from anybody. Where one no longer trusts anybody. Now this is a pretty grim thing. And there's a guy named John C. in the room tonight who brought me over to El Paso a few years ago. And the speaker who spoke on that Saturday night, I was on Sunday morning, closed with this prayer. And it's been part of my daily life ever since. You know this phrase that the kids have now? They say a thing is groovy. And I understand what that means in depth. If you say the 12 steps every day in your life, it's groovy, it goes into your essence. And it's written there, never to be washed away. And this goes for the prayers too. And so when John brought me to El Paso, I picked this prayer up. And it carried me an awful lot. And it's a portrait. It's an accurate portrait of what stands in front of you tonight. I asked God for strength that I might achieve. I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey. I asked for health that I might do greater things. And I was given infirmity that I might do better things. I asked for riches that I might be happy. I was given poverty that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the praise of men. And I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given strength. I was given life that I might enjoy all things. I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I'd hoped for. Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered. I am among all men most richly blessed. These are thoughts that nourish the soul. And there are other ones. I throw this up to you because it was given to me by a Benedictine monk in the desert. He was defining maturity. He says, Walter, a man is mature only when he is able to live peacefully with unsolved problems. And that's a big one. And there's a guy I never met. I tried to meet him. In 1947, I was reading the Hollywood Daily News. I was reading the Hollywood Daily Reporter. And Irving Hoffman's column said, he had a quote. J.H. Jowett of the Houston Chronicle says, You can measure the true wealth of a man by what he'd be worth if all his money were taken away. Which brings me up to the reason why we're here, why you're here, and why I'm here. I haven't the vaguest idea. I haven't the vaguest idea. How many decimal points or dollars were in the bank account of our patron Bill when he died? This was not the legacy or the wealth that made him great. This was not why God had chosen him as such an exquisite instrument. This isn't what we loved in him. I was... I was going through the second broken leg. And I was lying outside and I got a call from Washington. From my friend the Colonel. Hal, I'm sure some of you know him. He said, have you seen the New York Times this morning, Walter? I said, now, Hal, don't be ridiculous. Of course I haven't seen it. I said, it comes out here mail, but I haven't been down the hill and it won't get up here that fast. He said, no. He says, I know you'll be interested by the Times. He says, as you know and I know, the Times is probably the most prestigious newspaper in America. And they'll have a definite policy as regards photographs on page one. A multi-millionaire dies, he doesn't get on there. A governor, a senator, he doesn't get on there. A great academician dies, he doesn't get on there. Author, no. The only people that get on there are the rulers of the world. Prime ministers, kings, popes, people like that. And a friend of yours and mine has his picture on the page in the New York Times this morning, Bill W., of Alcoholics Anonymous. And then it goes inside, Walter, and it tells the whole story. There's a half page right up inside. And it reveals Bill's name, Bill Wilson. It reveals Dr. Bob's name. And I think we should all be very grateful and proud. That our patron was so honored. Well, Terry had wheeled me out on the terrace. And I was thinking of the bereaved widow. I never met Bill. I tell you, the first time I saw Bill when I came to New York in 1957, they brought me back. You see, I got AA in New York in 55. I went back to California. Ann Moore Lindberg had a beautiful book out called Gifts from the Sea in which she wrote a book called The New York Times. And I was thinking, well, I'm going to go to New York. I'm going to go to New York. I'm going to go to New York. I'm going to go to New York. I'm going to go to New York. I'm going to go to New York. And I was thinking about a story in my mind about a woman called Gifts from the Sea in which she used a German word. She says, this doesn't translate too easily in English, but the word is zarisenheit, torn to pieces-hood. And I went back to California on the 22nd of October, in the plane, reading in 12 steps and traditions, Lord, make me the instrument of thy peace. That where there is hatred, I may bring love. That where there is a is a place of truth, I may bring love. That I may bring peace. And I said, well, I'm going to be able to do that. I may bring love. The weather is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness. You know it. You're familiar with it, the peace prayer. I didn't know who wrote it. I wasn't to find out until months later. But as I studied it that morning, I thought, now I'm going back to pick up the pieces. And if I were running for office, I'd have to have a platform. And this is going to be my platform for my life from now on. I am going to be a man of peace, I am going to try to change, because to live is to grow, and to grow is to change. And if you don't change, you don't grow and you stagnate. And so I was committed, not knowing who had written this prayer, to change my life around. And I came back to the coast and spent two years there and eventually was called back to New York. When I was called to New York by NBC, my first thought was now, not that I've got a job, which I needed, not that I'd make money, which I needed, not that I'd be in the public eye, which I hungered for. My first thought was, God, if I go to New York, I'll probably see Bill Wilson. And within two weeks, he passed through the club one night at 49th and 8th, 7th Avenue, whatever it was, and he passed through and I looked at him and I thought, oh God, doesn't he look like you'd like him to look? I was so glad. And I saw him a few times after that. I had lunch with him once and then I saw him again. And then that lovely encounter where I found him coming out of the men's room and he brought me into his office and gave me the picture. So I sat thinking of the glory and the grandeur and the glamour and the excitement of the life he and Lois had shared together. And I used the word share with a feeling I can't pronounce it as well as Tommy does, Tommy Lovern. I've never heard anybody say share quite as movingly as Tommy does. But I sat down to write Lois and here is the letter I wrote her and it starts off, of course, with a quotation because I have to live by them. Quotes. He prays best who is so close to God that he doesn't even know he's praying. Close quotes. When I read that line in 1958, in a hospital bed, I thought to myself, this is the greatest definition I've ever seen of a 12-step call. When an alcoholic is out on a 12-step call, he's not in a church, a chapel, a cathedral, a synagogue. He's not in the customary posture of prayer on his knees. He's not even murmuring the prayers of any particular religion. But when he is bent over the sick and stricken alcoholic, trying to bring him back to life, he is the hidden hand of God in action. And like millions of others, I saw the hidden hand of God in action in Bill W. All I am and all that I have today, I owe to your husband and Dr. Bob and all those blessed drunks who went before me and showed me the way home. No literature, no liturgy has a story that tops the impact of Christ's life. It's the parable of the Good Samaritan. It only takes 198 words. In Luke's version, the story begins at verse 30 and it goes to verse 38. But in those words of Christ, one gets a perfect description of Bill Wilson. I have known a few geniuses in my time, music, literature, politics, but no genius whose power approached that of your husband. I tried to find the answer to the questions below as I meditated on his death this morning. How many lives did he enrich? How far does his influence go? How many people will mourn his death? When will his name disappear from the annals of human achievement? How many broken families did he patch up? How many people did he see stop from committing suicide? How many people bless his name? How many people will follow his example? There are no answers to these questions. I have never been unaware, Lois, of how God used you to help further build plans and dreams and examples. So that's all there is to death. As Ronald Knox says, God sends his carriage to bring you home where you belong. And that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go to the church. I'm going to go to the church. You'll be home where you belong. You will be in our daily prayers as long as we live. And we'll call you when we get east again, Walter and Terry O'Keeffe." And then Circe called, and I knew I was going to see Lois. And so I listened for the voice of Bill. And I can still hear it. And Bill says, says to you and me, get out of God's way. Get out of God's way. Let him make you what he intended you to be. Get rid of your arrogance. I think I have watched you people here as you've spoken here this week. And of course, this is a big week in American life for testimonials. We've been glued to the television screen and what have we seen? We've seen dishonor. We've seen criminality. We've seen crookedness. I look at these guys and I think there ought to be a thing called arrogance anonymous. And the first two steps I've got, we discovered we're part of the same thing. We're part of the same thing. We're part of the same thing. We're part of the same thing. We're part of the same thing. We're part of the same thing. We're powerless over power and our lives have become unmanageable. Turned to a power greater than Nixon to help us, you know. At this time, while the jury is still out, I think we should just... No matter what you say about Richard Nixon, it's partly true. Now, the national thing, somebody... If anybody were to say to me, Walter, you've lived since 1900. What is the most tremendous experience? What's the most exciting experience? What's the most exciting thing or what's the most important thing that's happened in your 72 years? It'll be 73 in August. And I would have to say, now, mind you, I saw the telephone spread because in the first decade of the century, it wasn't as widely spread. Then I saw the automobile come. Then I saw the airplanes. Then I saw radio and got into it, made a lot of money and had some great opportunities out of it. And then there were the super jets. Then there were the men and the moon and the computers and all that. And yet if you were to ask me what has been the most important thing in my 72 years, I would say the recent erosion of power on all levels everywhere. I was staying... sitting there this morning looking at this thing and I saw the head of Sicily and it came down like a pyramid. I was sitting there this morning looking at this thing and I saw the head of Sicily and it came down like a pyramid. And I saw the beauty of her talk. And I thought of the beauty of her talk. The muted elegance of her talk. The penetration. The perspicacity, the depth, the way she was talking. And I thought here is this lovely head up here on the top of this, this pyramid. And that's the way I see authority, as a pyramid. Down below around the base are all the myths and legends and experiences and common judgments, and... And it goes up to the top, and there's always somebody at the top, like a president, or a pope, or a governor, or a senator, or a chief of police, or a mayor, or the governor of a university, name it. It always leads to the top, and these people are all in trouble. Where do you feel at home? You feel at home in Alcoholics Anonymous. Nobody's on top here. Can you imagine competing with somebody in here and saying, I'm a better 8A than he is? You'd be out of your mind. And, of course, that's what I did immediately when I came in. Yeah, I wasn't in but two weeks when I was ready to take over from Wilson. I finally figured, I thought, well, he's the messiah, but I'll be St. Paul. The first luncheon I went to at New York, the guy on my right says, Walter, when you came to New York, you weren't a comedian, were you? Didn't you start out as a songwriter? And I said, yes, but my songwriting didn't get anywhere. And he says, isn't it funny? Nobody ever wrote a song about AA one day at a time. So on this October 22nd I'm talking about, I was flying west, and suddenly I had a couple of verses, The Lord is showing me how to live, just one day at a time. I asked for something I know he'll give, just one day at a time. My prayer is one I can share with you. Dear Lord, help me do what I ought to do. Then give me the strength to carry me through, just one day at a time. At last, I'm learning to lean on the Lord, just one day at a time. This peace I know is enough reward, just one day at a time. May every day be a work of art, in which I may play a humble part. Pray for an understanding heart, just one day at a time. I have never had a violet or a soft petal in my coat of arms as regards modesty, believe me. The minute I wrote that, I thought it was better than Stardust or the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Eventually it was published, and I'll tell you what I have. Every six months, you know, you get a statement from the publisher, showing how much you've earned. They sent me a bill for printing. But anyway, the point that I want to make here is that we see God in so many different ways, and I have something here from the most incongruous ways. You know from your institutional work. You know from the prisons. You know from the people who don't go to prisons, but are imprisoned in their own pride and their selfishness. And their fear. And their maladjustment to life. And here is something that was found in the body of a Russian soldier who died outside Kharkov in Russia. And it's rather a unique testimonial to a power greater than ourselves, and I thought you might enjoy it, and then I'll get on. Hear me, O God. This guy was found dead the next morning, and they took this off his body. Hear me, O God. Never in the whole of my lifetime have I spoken to you. Just now, I feel like sending you my greetings. You know, from childhood on, they always told me you were not, and I, like a fool, believed. I've never contemplated your creation, and yet tonight, gazing up out of my shell hole, I marveled at the shimmering stars above me, and suddenly, I knew, I knew the cruelty of the lie. Will you, my God, reach your hand out to me, I wonder? But let me tell you, and you will understand. Isn't it strange that light should come upon me, and I see you amidst this night of hell? And there's nothing else I have to say. This, though, I'm glad that I have learned to know you. At midnight, we're scheduled to attack. But you were looking on, and I am not afraid. There's the signal. Well, I guess I must be going. I have been happy with you. This more I want to say. As you well know, the fighting will be cruel, and even tonight, I may come knocking at your door. Although I have not been a friend to you before, still, will you let me enter now? When I do come, why, God, I'm crying, my Lord. You see what happens to me? Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight. My eyes were opened. And there isn't an alcoholic who's hit bottom who hasn't had his eyes opened by a gentle God. In the recent conflict, when the Watergate thing broke, and at the same time the Indians were suffering at Wounded Knee, my male brought me in another prayer. I'd love to be a connoisseur of prayers. I won't read the whole prayer, but it's an Indian prayer. And it goes back to this continent before I die. before the white men ever came to defile it and conquer it and pollute it and take it. But here's what the Indians said. I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy, myself. Now there's an ancient wisdom. We say the serenity prayer and we come to that key climactic word, wisdom. And there is a definition of wisdom that serves me well, it's comfortable for me. Wisdom is that divine gift which provides enlightenment for the mind, compassion for the heart, and strength to the will. So that when confronted with a choice between good and evil, you always make the correct decision. And that's what we pray for and that's what we get in this organization. And I'm standing here tonight. And for sentimental reasons, nobody's noted them in the two days I've been here, but I'm wearing a pair of shoes that are 16 years old. And they're shoes from Texas. And I want to talk right now about my debt to Texas and the AAs in it and the meetings in it that have brought me here to this very, very happy moment tonight with Terry. Tommy, you know, I was in New York. I went back to New York. This is typical of an arrogant actor who's an alcoholic. For two years, I've been in the coast trying to make the program. And now I was booked back to New York, a place where I used to be on top. I have in my time been in the top ten in radio, nighttime, the top ten in daytime radio, and the top ten in television. I've known them all, very briefly, but I was there. I couldn't hold it. But anyway, I came back after two years of AA on the coast, and I started to give God his orders. Now, those... Those of you who know the subways in New York know what an express is that goes like hell and a local that just tinkles along from... And so I'm telling God, look, I want to get up, and you've got to face it. I went back to the coast. I've done 12-step work. I've spoken in the prisons. I've spoken to you. I've done your work. And now I want to get back on top, and I want to get back in a hurry. I want to get there on an... And the gentle voice of God came back and says, Walter, I haven't got you on the express. You're on the local. And very slowly, I'm getting... Getting where I'm supposed to go. And so while I was there, that summer, the phone rang, and the voice says, Hey, Walter, this is Pete. You know the way they call you on the phone. I says, Hiya, Pete. And he says, Long time no see. And I agreed, long time no see. He said, Will you come over and have lunch with me at the Waldorf? And I thought, This is a different kind of AA. So I went over to the Waldorf, and he says, You know, a bunch of us Presbyterians and Baptists and Episcopalians up there at Cook Forest were sitting around talking the other day, and somebody says, Hey, the Catholics have got a hell of a swell idea. Somebody says, What? He says, Well, they have retreats. Somebody says, What's that? He said, Well, they go off in the bushes and pray. Why don't we do that with dames? And thus was born the Cook Forest thing, and I was invited there to speak in September of 1957. And there I met Tommy in Dutch, and Tommy invited me down to Virginia, and I fell in love with him. And one day the phone rang, and a voice on the coast says, Walter, can you do a 12-step call over the weekend? I says, Where? He says, Amarillo, Texas. I says, Hell, I'm in trouble with the government. I haven't got fair to Hoboken. He says, No. He says, It's the top of Texas meeting, 1,000 people, six southwestern states. He says, You fly Friday, you speak Saturday, and you come home Sunday and believe me, it's worth it. I didn't know how worth it it was. And I cite this. This is the first time I've ever told it in public. I cite it just to illustrate that dumb going ahead, when you don't know where you're going, but you are passionately, sincerely, honestly, and truthfully trying to do the will of God. So I flew down, and Friday night, this guy in the corner, Bill, came up and said, Do you mind if we tape your talk? And I said, No. I must confess, the next morning at 11, when I stood up, I was startled by what was in front of me. Here was a semicircle, a crescent, of pro recording machines. Well, I couldn't say anything then, but later I said, Hey, what goes with all the machines? Somebody said, Well, they go to the prisons. They go to the loaners. I said, All right, forget about it. The next year, NBC sent me to Brussels and Paris, and I started for the Holy Land. I was going to make a visit to Israel, and Eisenhower put troops in, and I turned chicken and quit in Rome. But I'd been to meetings in Brussels and Paris, and now in Rome, and subsequently in Geneva, and I came back home, and a year later, GSO called me and said, Walter, for the New York State Convention, we're having a panel on the international scene. We've got somebody from the Orient, somebody South America. Would you talk on Europe? And I'll never forget coming into this place, and up at the lectern, a black man was talking. And I slid into my chair, and he was representing South Africa, and I heard the voice say, And if Walter O. is in the house, he may be happy to know how much comfort he gave the sick and stricken black men of South Africa after he described his visit to Molokai. To meet the lepers. Well, of course, I fainted. I was startled. And I went to this guy later. His name was Joe. Joe R. I said, Joe, what the hell happened? Well, one of the tapes from Amarillo was brought to Newport News, Virginia, where somebody made a copy. It was given to him a merchant seaman who took it to Cape Town, South Africa, where somebody made a copy, and it went back into the bush. And this happened to me three years after I'd done it with like a fleck on the shoulder. It was as if God said, See, Walter, you see what I mean? And then last year, Terry threw me a party to combine my AA birthday and my 72nd birthday, and we had 136 people out there by the pool of the day. And a guy called up from San Pedro, which is the port of Los Angeles, coffee, Bob, and he said, Walter, can we bring over a sea captain? And up came a sea captain from South Africa who'd heard the tape that was made in Amarillo. Now, this is... The reason I bring this up is to stress the point that when you do what you're supposed to do, you never know how much good you're doing. You don't know how God is using you, and it's your obligation to do the best you can. And so I want to review quickly the... what we were like, what happened, what we're like now. What we were like, we were terrified, we were scared. I'll give you a quick little vignette of me by the age of 22. By the time I was 22 and I was out of Notre Dame, I was a graduate of Notre Dame, I was also a Marine, an ex-Marine, and I must tell you about... You see, I used to study for the priesthood. Ha, ha, ha. I think of all the trouble they've had, thank God they were spared me. But when I got to Notre Dame, the president of the university had a visitor there and he had his arm around me and he says, you know, your eminence, I don't know how accurate and ecclesiastical a prophet I may be, but in the person of this boy here, Walter O'Keefe, you may be looking at me as a priest, but I'm not a priest. I'm a priest. I'm a priest. I'm a priest. I'm a priest. I'm looking at the first American pope. And two weeks later, I was the assistant bartender at the Elks Temple. And my favorite customer was Nelson Jones. He was the leading town funeral director and he sort of anticipated Forrest Lawn, who makes death so attractive, you wonder why the hell you're living. These beautiful advertisements, you know. And so Nelson had a big smiling face, like the Admiral, cigar ad and next to that he had a very nauseating slogan I am as near as your telephone and every night he would come up to my bar I'd be studying Latin or Greek or French or something over here and he'd come up and belly up to the bar 20 minutes to 10 and I would proceed to fill the tanker until we closed down and one night a young elk came up and he only had horns out about that far you know and he wanted to get drunk at his wife you've heard that gag oh God he was angry with her and he had a piece of paper he said to Nelson he said look this is my address pal and I hope to God I get stiff as hell I want to tie up with her I want to get drunk and throw up in her and look here's a dress if you'll just let me in and put me in the room on the right and here's the keys well God answered his prayer he passed out in three minutes and lay over there at 20 minutes to 1 I'm sweeping the bar up and Nelson says Walter I'm going to need your help so we took the inert body of the drunk back to the funeral parlor and we put him in a lovely coffin and the staff got busy we rolled out the hearse we got the 2x4s the candles and we went over there and I had the little piece of paper and I quietly opened the door and went into the parlor here and put up the six brown candles the saw horses we put in the coffin and finally I lit the six candles put a lily in his hand and walked out I didn't see him for four days it was rather a leisurely resurrection but he came he came in and he said you know I came to I came to and I cased where I was and I thought to myself if I'm alive what am I doing here but if I'm dead what am I doing right now wetting my pants well the the alcohol had gotten out of me by the time I was 22 I will illustrate it in one principle just one little story I was an advertising man then I was doing very well and I went I had an office on Wabash Avenue, Chicago and I lived in Rogers Park that suburb out near Evanston and I went to Michigan and I made 750 I was 22 years old and I made 750 bucks this week and I came back and all in cash I came back into town my partner met me at the station we went to Marshall Field as soon as they opened I bought a new set of threads and then I walked down and I was in the car and I was in the car Wabash Avenue looking in the store windows admiring me which is one of my great habits to this day believe me nobody can pull out a self-canonization kit faster than I can so anyway at about 10 o'clock in the morning we went into a quaint thing that some of you are too young to know it was a speakeasy in Prohibition times and we started to drink and I remember the clock on the wall read 20 minutes to 3 and the inner voice said Walter don't you think it's time you had something to eat the waiter said what'll it be Mr. O'Keefe I said a double bourbon well when I came to I was lying in my underwear I was in that apartment 30 miles away church bells were pealing and I'm quick about these things I thought that must be Sunday and I tried to reconstruct I tried to reach back back at that 20 minutes to 3 of the previous afternoon so naturally I had to ask the first question that was linked to the last question did you have anything to eat and I didn't know the answer and the next question was what time did you get home and I didn't know the answer and the next question was did you come home alone or did somebody have to bring you home and I didn't know the answer and the next question was did you come home for 10 cents in the subway did you have to have 30 dollars in the cab and I didn't know the answer and then I thought it was a beautiful new suit that I just had to wear and I thought and I wondered if I'd gotten involved in a battle was I laid out in an alley did I throw up and I went into the next room and here it was hanging up beautifully on the hanger and I went into the pocket and there was the load of money left the dinner check and you know what I said to myself God oh Keith you certainly know how to drink like a man because there's been such a fog of ignorance that I've been in the past now I've heard I will give you one example of a fellow who went to school with me at Notre Dame he was in my class and later he became a priest later he became a monsignor later he became a chancellor of a big important diocese and after 41 years I went to that town to speak and I said what do you know about Alcoholics Anonymous this guy says they're a bunch of homosexuals aren't they and I said I said I'll tell you Tom I think the rate is about the same as the Catholic priesthood Tommy B. of Winnipeg asked me recently to go over to the Navy oh Lord knows this is three years ago and the Navy showed me the stuff from the Pentagon where the guy says we'll have you understand this is the leading admiral of the Navy and he writes to the captain out here we'll have you understand that the Navy has no drinking problem at all now this ignorance that's all around us and that you are commissioned to eradicate and eliminate is a tremendous problem it is the number one health problem as we know now in the United States and it's costing billions of dollars but the point was what we were like I was a liar I was devious I was deceitful I couldn't be trusted I had nobody's interest at heart but my own and I was a liar and this is a I had no sense of value that's what is so shabby about it all I had no sense of value what was worthwhile me or anything else to show you how stupid I was I had done many things I'd worn many labels I was a member of ASCAP as a songwriter I had been a nightclub comedian a Broadway comedian I was a syndicated newspaper columnist for United Features I had been in politics and in 1930 I was a member of the United States and in 1930 I was a member of the United States and in 1937 I you see it's a progressive disease and I hit my peak in my profession when I was 37 years old they asked me if I'd take Fred Allen's place and I said I don't think you can afford me and they said we didn't discuss money I said I'm not talking about money I'd been driven crazy for years by sponsors that interfered the Camel Caravan other people I couldn't be what I wanted to be I could never mention the name of anybody in public life I couldn't say Babe Ruth Clark Gable anything like that and so I figured to hell with it and I retired for a year so when they came along I said no I don't if you want me to take the Fred Allen program here's the deal you won't have anything to do with it except the commercials now go and talk to my agency if you can make a deal and they did and I went in there and the third week we hit and then we went up and within five months I was in fourth position in the nation and I signed an extravagant contract to come to the coast to replace Fred Astaire in a program with Charlie Butterworth and then that I went to Europe I had to go to Europe yeah I'd only been working 19 weeks that year but I had to go to Europe to rest so anyway that thing collapsed with an act of God causing the contract and I was sulking in Connecticut and there was a man who had written things in the 20s and been very successful and we had the same lawyer and he was in trouble and 33 34 35 Dabei 36 37 and they talked it over and he said I think if I worked with Walder with my sense of construction and my experience and Walder's sense of humor we might make a good combination I'd split with him 50-50 and I tried him out for one week and walked away his name was Oscar Hammerstein that's how drunk I was I thought he was corny and the next year he came out with Oklahoma now why was that was I evil oh no, as you know, I was sick. I was very sick, and every time I didn't see God unless I looked in the mirror. And God was an Irish-American who was a comedian, which is ridiculous. But finally, you recognize God in somebody else, and that's why Lois and Bill and this whole story is so exquisitely simple and dramatic and lyrical and undeniable. There is a line, I was listening to Lois talk at that lunch yesterday, and I apply this to Norm, I apply it to every speaker here, Cicely, Balabam, every speaker I hear. It is a paragraph that occurs in a book written by Goody, or an Englishman. He wrote a three-volume Life of Christ, and on page 132 in volume 1, he's describing the eloquence of Jesus, and here's what he says. It was not eloquence. It was much more than that. It was utter truth uttering itself, convincing by its own transparency, blinding and subduing by the brightness of its light, conquering beyond all doubt every man of good will who heard it. That's what Bob saw across the kitchen table from Bill. He looked into the eyes of Bill, and here was a man who was convincing by his own transparency. The women of America listen to Lois, and she's convincing by her own transparency. This is what it's all about. Here's where lies the truth. And my steps in coming back were very definite. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I was asked in 1952 to go over and entertain the lepers. I've told this before, I must repeat it, because it's part of my life. And so I came down in Molokai, and we started, and this involved one of my unknown benefactors. I never knew her name. But the man is driving me into the jungle, where they have Kalapapa, where the lepers were, and we passed a shack, and that's exactly what it was. There weren't any windows on it. The door was crazily hung. The steps were crazy, no paint. He says, excuse me, I have some flowers. He says, I'm going in here. When he came back and the car started up, he says, you've got a great fan in there, Walter. I said, tell me. He says, an old colored woman. She's blind. She said, give my love to Walter O'Keefe. I said, why didn't you take me in the meter? He said, well, Walter, I'm going to show you later in the laboratory what's happened with the sulfone drug, S-U-L-F-O-N-E. It got to her too late. And at another point, her nose, her ears, her toes, her fingers, she's decaying. And disintegrating. And she didn't want to have you see her in that condition. But she loved you. That was the first earthquake that led me towards Bill. The second earthquake was that same afternoon. I entertained the lepers. They didn't miss a thing. And finally, with no piano player, I couldn't sing a song to climax it. I said, are there any questions you'd like to ask? And way up in the rear, one of the lepers hollered out, yes, Walter, tell us about your two boys, Michael and Anthony. Six people came down to see me off at the plane. An Episcopal nun, a Catholic nun, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the administrator and his wife, the gal who was an authority on Hansen's disease and the Catholic chaplain, a little round butterball of a man. And I looked in their eyes and I knew they had something I didn't have. They had serenity and tranquility and dedication and devotion. They were giving more than they're getting. There's no payoff on Molokai in fame or fortune. In their fun, they had made their deal with God and they were satisfied with the deal. And I christened it for my own convenience to Molokai look. And I didn't realize until years later, but that afternoon as I flew back to Oahu on the plane, thinking over this traumatic experience, I uttered my first honest prayer. Sado voce, talking only to myself. I said, I wish to God I had something like that to give myself to. And I said, I wish to God I had something like that to give myself to. And you were three years away. My sister Terry was out in front. And finally I called her one day and said, send over that book, Alcoholics Anonymous, will you? I thought I'd weed myself out of the corner. And Terry didn't send it, she sent Larry. Please say a prayer for Larry tonight. Larry has leukemia. And for ten years, he's been your monument to patience. Beauty and self-sacrifice and inspiration. So anyway, Larry and Del took me to my first meeting at a movie star's house. They were all big names. There was a chocolate cake with two candles and they sang happy birthday to you and I almost threw up. I thought, what a nauseating price to pay for sobriety. To say how good you look and eat chocolate cake and sing happy birthday. What the hell? But the seed was planted. You see, the seed was planted as evidenced in the next few months because I went back east to take Gary Moore. So that was the trouble with my life. I was always a substitute for somebody else trying, seeking my own identity. I'll give you the list. In 1932, in the summer, I took Walter Winchell's place. The Lucky Strike Magic Carpet. In 1937, I took Fred Allen's place. In 1942, Edgar Burgum underrested dummy. They said, let's get Walter. In 1947, I took Don McNeil's place. In 1950, Milton Berle got sick in Texaco. They said, get Walter. 1953 and 4, Herb Schreiner, two for the money. 1955, Jack Bailey while he went away for a week. And then I took over Gary Moore's show and then I sobered up. And I kept my mouth shut. The inner voice said, Walter, why don't you keep your mouth shut for a while and learn? So for three or four months, I didn't say a word. And finally, I... I was invited to speak and I made two speeches. And I heard myself saying to myself, well, I wonder what Bishop Sheen is doing next summer. It's awful. Let me give you an example. In 1969, I went into the hospital. I went into the hospital in L.A. And I went in there for Operation 14 Days. I was there 46. Well, the days went by. The suspense was something that I was unaware of because I knew I lived. Terry was there every day. She'd drive in and nurse me, being a professional nurse originally. And yet, it wasn't my family. It wasn't the Notre Dame men. It wasn't the people of show business. It wasn't the actors. It wasn't the newspaper people. The people who kept me alive were you. The telephones. The cards. The everything. And I'll show you how egotistical it gets. That last Sunday, it was raining. It rained for two months. And the rain was pouring down. And I went over before breakfast and opened the curtains. And here's the rain. No movement. No pedestrians. And around the corner came a mail truck. And the guy got out with one letter. Now, there were 1,255 patients and 2,500 personnel taking care of him. Do you know what I said to myself? Ah! A special delivery for me. And it was. It came from you. It came from Matt. Matt C. and the other people. While we're praying for you, you make it all right. To show you this arrogant thing. And then I'll go back in my story and pick it up quickly. I got a call to go to Canada. Would I come there and speak at Niagara Falls? May 12th. The doctor okayed it. And on May 11th, Terry and I dropped out of the clouds. Two guys are there to take us across the river into Canada. And they shot us up in a beautiful hotel suite. And I looked out for the first time at Niagara Falls. As you know, illumined at night for dramatic effect. Over here, the Horseshoe Falls. Here, the American Falls. And over here, like left field, a big black velvet backdrop. Boom! One word came on. OK. And ten seconds later, it said, beer! And I said, beer! And ten seconds later, it said, ale! And ten seconds later, it said, ale! And ten seconds later, it said, ale! Fairness to God, for the first ten seconds, I thought, Oh, they shouldn't have gone to all that trouble. Well, here I was back in New York. Back in New York with Gary Moore. And I was doing that show. And on Fridays, I had to take over the Arthur Godfrey show, too. And so, I came to New York. And so, I came off after seven weeks. But I must explain what I had done. It wasn't going well. My brother Jack was with me. And he was a very moist character. As I've explained, Jack was the reason Anheuser-Busch built in California. And he was in the place with me. I hadn't had a drink since the visit at the movie star's house. And I hadn't gone to a meeting, either. I didn't like it. But the first weekend came, the weekend after the first week of the Moore Show. I was not happy. I was not successful. I wasn't doing well. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I was in the place with my brother Jack. And I thought, I love this phrase you have all through the South. So, I CAD him to a meeting. C-A-R-R-I-E-D. Well, this was the first time I ever CAD myself to a meeting. And I found a place down in the bowels of a building off Madison Avenue. And I came down to the South side of the building. And I said, I want to go to a meeting. And I said, I'm not going. And I said, I'm not going. And I said, I'm not going. And I said, I'm not going. the stairs, and here's a guy sitting there back of a table, and his clothes don't fit him. His skin doesn't fit him. But he's got the Molokai look in his eye. And his name was Ed. May God bless him, and I'm not violating his anonymity. His name is Ed Lee, and he's been dead for some years. But Ed led the meeting. Now, Ed didn't have the platform manner. He was not a facile speaker. But for some reason, God took the blinders off me, and I saw him as Bob saw Bill, and he was convincing by his own transparency. I saw this man passionately trying to help these people, and I fell in love with him quietly and snuck out at two minutes to ten. I went back six more weeks, black glasses, celebrity, you know. I didn't want to mix with these bums, so I went back there. And then finally the seventh week came. Madison Avenue was not breaking down the doors with a multi-million dollar opportunity for Walter. And then I did what you've done so often. I began to feel sorry for me, sorry for myself. I started to wallow in it. And I got off the air and went right into Diddy Moore's, and I hadn't had a drink now in three months. And I tanked up on Jack Daniels, and my brother Jack joined me and says, why don't you relax? That was a terrible word. Yeah, you relax and wake up in jail. It's ridiculous. You know. It's as silly as that word, you know, social drinking. That's preposterous. Social is the big word there. It's a double-breasted word, very dignified society. You know, the opera, the racetrack, elegance, grandeur. Let's take social and tie it up with an ordinary noun. If all of us were sitting around the solarium of a hospital after surgery, the guy over here says, I had a gallstone operation. This guy here would say, Galton, what the hell? I had kidney stones. That's nothing. This guy over here says, Galton, what the hell? Gallstone, kidney stones, for God's sakes. I had lobotomy, brain surgery. At that moment, I wouldn't leap up and say, well, all I've got is a social disease. I woke up Saturday morning, back in the old familiar snake pit, despair, the cold clutch of despair, disgust, hatred for myself, hatred for the world and everybody. And what would I do? I'd go out in the kitchen. I'd go out there to get a pick-me-up. And as I passed my brother's bedroom, this dear, wonderful brother who never got the program, he said, where are you going? And I told him I was going out to get a drink. And he said, you can't do that. And then I suggested something he could do, which I might add is a physical impossibility. I never should have said it. Don't explain it. I went out and I got the drink and I heard him yell, I'm going to call national headquarters. That's Jack. National headquarters. He called intergroup, and there was a man sitting with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. And Jack said, will you come to this address in Sutton Place? This is a quarter past nine in the morning. And then the front doorbell rang and I went down the hall and opened the door, and here was my spiritual experience. Of all the people in New York, of all the drunks in the world, who was standing there but the little, humble man I'd fallen in love with, Ed Lee. And he came in and he was a broker's clerk. He was quiet. He was self-effacing. I drank. He had coffee. At 11 o'clock I said I'd lie down for a while. And 13 hours later, I came to. And I lay there realizing that the man with the cup of coffee was a man of the world. And I said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And he said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And I said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And he said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And I said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And I said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And he said, I can move faster, and I'll be waiting for you, but when are you going to stop running away from me? So I followed Ed. And Ed led me to Tommy. And Tommy led me to Dr. Will from Texas. And we shared a bedroom at Blackstone. It was called the Bishop's Suite. And two old drunks profaned the premises. And I said, I'm going to go to the New York Times. And he said, I'm going to go to the after his death. And he took off his shoes that night. I said, what beautiful shoes. He says, put them on. I put them on, and they're alligator skin, and I have them on tonight. And he sent them to me, and I'm still walking in Dr. Will's shoes. And in another way, I'm trying to walk in Bill's footsteps to follow him. And the thing that has helped so much to bring peace of mind and a sense of humor into your life have been the prayers. They come from so many sources. I always wind up with this same prayer, and my beloved Terry has some copies if you want it. One of them is a little brief three-line prayer, St. Thomas More, the man for all seasons, 1535 in the Tower of London, just before they cut his head off. And he wrote this. Thank you, dear God, for all you have given me. For all you have taken away from me. For all you have left of me. That pretty much sums up my life. And the other one is Thomas Merton's meditation. My dear God, I have no idea where I'm going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end, nor do I really know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. I don't know my way. And the fact that I think that I'm doing your will does not mean that I actually am. But I do believe this. I believe that the desire to please you does please you. And I hope I have that desire in everything I do. I hope I never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it at the time. Therefore, I will trust you. Trust you, always, for though I may seem to be lost, and in the shadow of death, I will not be afraid, because I know you will never leave me to face my troubles all alone. That's what I know about you. And tomorrow morning, when I... Monday morning, when I sit down at my desk in California, and I look at the picture on the desk there, there will be the lovely face of Bill. There will be Bill, a saint, if ever there was one. And we recoil from the verbiage that says saint, and we think that's corny, but it isn't. A saint, as somebody told me, is nothing but a sinner who never stopped trying. And that's you. A saint is somebody who believes God loves them. And that's you. And Robert Louis Stevenson, perhaps better than anybody, created a verbal lay that I lay around your necks now as I sit down. He defines success. And I love to be with successful people, and that's why I'm with you here tonight. That man is a success who is loved well, laughed often, loved much, who is fond of... who is in his niche and accomplished his job, who leads the world better than when he found it, whether by an improved puppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul, who gave the best he had and looked for the same in others. That man's name is a benediction. And that fits every one of you. You are making the world better than when you found it. You are rescuing souls, and you may never know that you know that you're the unknown benefactor of some poor sick alcoholic out there. And when I look at the picture of Bill, I'll be able to say...