Rigorous Honesty Means Telling the Truth for More Than Fifteen Minutes in a Row — Kendall L.
About This Speaker Tape
Ken tells his story from notes at the Monday Night Blue Chip Speakers Meeting at the NAVIC Club in Brookhaven, where he first walked in during October 1987. Born on the University of Texas campus, he grew up an Army brat who spent more than half his first eleven years in Puerto Rico, met his wife Carrie freshman year of college (they have now been married fifty years), and fell in love with Scotch whiskey the same season. He calls himself a professional drinker — not an amateur — with an expense account, a thirty-inch waist, a custom tuxedo, and a contact list that included Sammy Davis Jr., Pat Conroy, Jimmy Carter, and Dale Earnhardt. He sold liquor out of a Chi Phi trunk at the University of Georgia while Dean Tate raided his room every Saturday morning for four years without ever finding the stash.
The drinking years carried a cost he could not outrun. His son Patrick was found in the apartment pool at Dorchester and died seven days later; Ken notes that 98 percent of couples who lose a minor child divorce, and only a handful of miracles kept his marriage intact. Two of his drinking friends, years apart, died at exactly age fifty-four when their hearts exploded. In 1983 a pain like an axe in the back dropped him in his own backyard; DeKalb Medical gave him four shots of morphine, and chief surgeon Bill Hardcastle later told him his chief nurse vomited in the OR when they opened him up and found gangrene wrapped around a destroyed pancreas. The doctors warned him one more drink would kill him. He drank for four more years anyway.
A Brookhaven DUI — his four-year-old VW Rabbit versus a forty-eight-hour-old 280Z — finally landed him in jail, and a priest from St. Bartholomew's drove him home saying, "we knew you weren't going anywhere, we were busy." Sponsors Stan Parks and Gerald Daly took him in and refused to let him do his fourth step, because twenty-five years of drinking had taught him he could not tell the truth for fifteen minutes in a row. They told him: just don't drink, go to meetings, and do what we do.
The last stretch is about the second life that honesty bought him. He published two books of poetry starting at age fifty-six, got useful in his Episcopal diocese, and carries with him Stan's office demonstration — a Big Book, a pint of vodka, and a loaded pistol laid on the desk for newcomers who said they did not know if they wanted to stay sober. They always picked the Big Book. Ken closes the way Stan taught him: if you do what we did, you'll get what we got.
Topics
Timestamps
Full Transcript
Anybody ready for a meeting?
My name is Jeff, and I am an alcoholic.
Hey, everybody.
Welcome to the Monday Night Blue Chip Speakers Meeting at the NAVIC Club.
We're a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.
With one or more years, the sobriety tells...
My name is Jeff, and I am an alcoholic.
Hey, everybody.
Welcome to the Monday Night Blue Chip Speakers Meeting at the NAVIC Club.
We're a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.
With one or more years, the sobriety tells...
Anybody ready for a meeting?
My name is Jeff, and I am an alcoholic.
Hey, everybody.
Welcome to the Monday Night Blue Chip Speakers Meeting at the NAVIC Club.
We're a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.
With one or more years, the sobriety tells his or her story.
I give you a can.
I'm Ken, and I'm an alcoholic.
I started coming into this room in October of 1987,
and there are faces here that were there, that were here when we were here.
It seemed like there it was so long ago.
Terry and I went through basements.
We went through the basic together in AA.
That's what it felt like.
We shared some sponsorship with folks and whatnot.
And for the first seven or eight years that I was in AA,
most of that time I lived exactly one mile from here in Brookhaven.
And I didn't live in the house I owned in Brookhaven.
I drank that up.
I lived in the apartment that I could afford in Brookhaven at that time,
which was okay.
But one mile from here, so I was here most days for the 545,
every day for the 8 o'clock, and that was seven days a week.
So I came to this meeting for a long, long time, every Monday night.
And I don't remember what it was like some of that time.
I don't remember a lot of things from some of that time.
I think I was almost...
I was almost wet-brained when I got here.
One of the things I noticed coming to this meeting in the old days was
I would listen to people tell their story.
And when they finished telling their story, I would say,
they were really drunk, and now they're not.
And that's what I know about this guy.
He was really messed up, or she.
And they're not anymore.
And they got to be better off than they were.
I didn't know much about them.
And also, I started telling my story when I was asked,
because I was told by my sponsors,
when they ask you to do something and they say yes,
don't ever say, I'm sorry, I'm busy, because you're not, and say yes.
And so when they asked me to tell my story, I said yes.
And I would tell my story extemporaneously,
the way I'm speaking now.
And then I got older, and I started to find
that extemporaneous means I got to talking
about something y'all weren't interested in at all,
but I found eminently fascinating.
And then we didn't get to finish the story.
So I decided I would start telling my story from notes,
and that's what I'm going to do tonight.
And if you find that offensive, you can contact the people
in New York, and they've got a form.
You can fill out.
You have to do it online and send it off.
And you can deal with it, you know.
But anyway, I thought one of the things I also missed
from some of the people that told their stories that I heard
so many of in here was that I didn't know very much
about them personally.
So I thought I would preamble my AA story with some stuff
about me just as a plain, vanilla human being in this life.
And so here's what it starts out with.
I was born on the campus
of the University of New York.
I was born on the campus of the University of New York.
I was born on the campus of the University of New York.
I was born on the campus of the University of Texas.
And this is still true.
You can see the room I was born in from the back steps
of the Texas Capitol building, its oldest building on the campus.
No kidding.
By the time I was 11 years old, I had spent more than half my life
in Puerto Rico, and I was an Army brat.
That's what I was doing there.
And I came home from Christmas my freshman year, saw a beautiful,
beautiful girl in a play, freshman year in college.
I saw a beautiful girl in a play, and I said, wow, wow.
The next night, I was with a friend on the way to a movie.
He said, I got to stop and say Merry Christmas to this girl.
We went to her mom and dad's house.
It was the same girl.
And I said, this is a big deal.
Things happening that you don't, you're not in charge of.
You don't know what's going on, but I'm, I've been married to her now for,
you know, 50 years.
The first time they had an IQ test administered in the U.S.
for people who could not read, would be little bitty kids,
I took it at Mercer University.
They also had it at Princeton University.
These are weird things that happened in my life.
I was, I was a professional drinker.
That is, I was not an amateur.
I did not every now and then go to a bar and get drunk and go out
and throw a beer.
I was a professional drinker. That is, I was not an amateur. I did not every now and then go to a bar and get drunk and go out and throw a beer.
I did not throw it in the parking lot.
I drank professionally with an expense account every freaking day.
And it was wonderful and I loved it.
And I know there's a lot of people in AA who drank and feel bad about it.
That they didn't like it.
It was bad to them and they were bad to others and they hate it.
That is not my experience.
If I could do it today, I would.
And I know I can't, but I loved it.
And I drank with a lot of cool people.
I just want you all to know,
a few of the people I drank with.
I've had drinks with,
these are all real,
Julie Andrews,
Richard Dreyfuss,
William Wyndham,
Joe Williams,
Alex Hawkins,
Jimmy Orr,
Jimmy Carter,
Sam Masell,
Max Cleland,
Ludlow Porch,
David Schwartz,
Helen O'Connell,
that's an old one,
Pat Conroy,
Stuart Woods,
Paul,
Paul Hemphill,
Dale Earnhardt,
Sammy Davis Jr.,
Bill Mallard,
Grayson Cookie Hamilton,
Norris Herndon,
John Huey,
Al Brazelton,
Zell Miller,
when he was a Democrat,
Manuel Maloof,
and James Brown
and his famous flames.
The whole band.
I had drinks with them.
Anyway,
I loved it.
I loved drinking.
And I loved drinking with people.
So,
this is a deep sickness for me
because it's like
throughout everything in my life.
I had a lot of experiences
with people
and because of the business
that I was in in sales.
A lot of great experiences
like the Atlanta Jazz Festival
and listening to Nina Simone
and people like that.
Dizzy Gillespie
and Jimmy Smith.
All those folks.
Dr. John.
And there's a lot of drinking
and all that stuff.
And it was all paid for
by somebody else.
It was so easy to do.
So,
anyway,
that's something about
how I did my life.
And this story starts,
the drinking part of this story
starts in 1962,
which was the year
I graduated from high school.
I started college.
The next morning
after I graduated,
I could not wait
to get out of my parents' house.
I didn't know it then,
but later on,
I figured it out.
They didn't have any booze
in their house.
That was one reason
I needed to get out of there.
When I was a freshman in college,
I fell in love with Kerry
and I fell in love
with Scotch Whiskey.
And those two things happened
within a few months of each other.
It's amazing
how things just thread together
in your life.
And the civilization
that we know,
Western civilization,
I understood from history
was held together
by Irish monks
during the Dark Ages.
And I think
Scotch Whiskey
held my life together
the way they held
civilization together
in very much the same way.
I would have fallen apart
without it.
I really believe
that.
And that comes
into the realm
of the kind of
spiritual paradoxes
that you have,
like you can't keep it
unless you give it away.
The life that you can have
that's most abundant
is the life you have
when you give your life
away for others.
And things like
you can't think your way
into sober living,
but you can live your way
into sober thinking.
And,
you know,
and other things
about spirits.
Like,
one drink
is too many
and a thousand
is not enough.
I went off to college
and I was a decent student
most of the time.
A, B, C,
sometimes Dean's List,
sometimes not.
And I started
at Piedmont College
and I was asked to leave
by the president.
Not for good reason.
We just had a
little agreement.
And so I went to
the University of Georgia,
changed majors,
changed schools.
And I had started
selling liquor
while I was at Piedmont.
I mean,
if you're selling liquor
and you have a foot locker
or two of liquor
in your room,
in your dorm,
you don't ever run out of liquor.
And you also don't run out of money.
Because people won't have that.
And we were in a dry county.
And then,
when I moved to Athens,
it was the same way.
It was a dry county too.
And so,
some of the liquor I sold
was non-tax paid.
I stopped doing that
when some boys
up in one of the high schools
in Gainesville died
from buying stuff
from the guy
I was buying my stuff from.
So I stopped doing that.
But I kept selling
tax paid whiskey
the whole time
I was at Georgia.
And we had a little shop.
We kind of set up
in the trunk
of the car
behind the Chi Phi house
every Friday and Saturday night.
And Dean Tate would stand around
and talk to us
while we sold liquor.
And that was under the
Boys Will Be Boys rule
that once you had it
at a fraternity house
that the management
of the university
wouldn't do anything about it.
But Dean Tate raided our room
every Saturday morning
at 9 o'clock
the whole time I was at Georgia.
And he never found the liquor.
And after I graduated
I met him in downtown Atlanta
one day and he said
where would y'all have the liquor?
And I wouldn't tell him.
And then I met his son
after he died.
And his son found out
who I was
and he said
tell me
you never told my daddy
where'd y'all have the liquor?
That was his son
after Dean Tate died.
I was an Army brat
so I didn't get to stay
in one place very long.
I got to move around
a lot.
And that changes
things for you.
I envy now
sometimes
I envy people
that grew up
in the same neighborhood
and went to the same
grammar school
and the same
high school
that all their friends
went to.
And they're
my age now.
And they've got
Facebook friends
that are the same
ancient age
that's suburban.
And they still are in touch.
They still hug each other
and they still
are in touch.
They still hug each other.
And they still
are in touch.
They still hug each other.
They still hug each other
when they see each other
and they hugged each other
the first time
when they were
in the third grade
or something like that.
I don't have any people
like that.
I found it very hard
to find the people
that I grew up with
because they're scattered
everywhere
and I can't remember
their names
and that sort of thing.
So
but
it also
makes you agile
makes it easy
for you to
deal with situations
when you
when you move
every three years
or sometimes
in two years
if a war breaks out.
You have to run off.
And that happened
at least once
when Korea came
and
so
there are things
you have to
adapt to
and
I spent an afternoon
one time
talking with
Pat Conroy
who wrote
Prince of Tides
and
The Great Santini
and
a lot of his stuff
was about his dad
and
we talked about dads
for a whole afternoon.
We drank while
we were doing that
by the way
and
we had a lot to share
but it wasn't matched up.
His dad was a lot more
of a hard ass
than my dad was.
My dad was
I really appreciated
talking to him
because
Army brats
have a problem
a lot of them
Navy brats
Air Force brats
with how
the military was
for them
as a kid
and
I'm not
blaming anything
about drinking
on that
because I think
if I've lived
in the most
sedate
and stable
environment
in the world
I still
once I found out
how good whiskey was
I would have been
exactly the same.
So,
they didn't do it
to me
by
being Army people.
And
along in the
business
of
we talk all the time
in AA
about God
and we talk about
we don't talk about
theology
but we're just right
at the edge of it.
And that's about
let's not piss anybody off
because
you know
a lot of people
get pissed off
when you start
talking about God
because somebody
did some God thing
to them
and it hurt them.
And I've seen that
and there's a lot
of hurt people
in the world
about the God stuff
and it turns out
after a while
that
I kind of come
to understand
it's not God
that's hurting people
it's some of his
precious children
don't know how
to do it right
or something
but I had a hard time
with the God thing
when I was a little kid
because
I thought
the
sin
and punishment
and redemption
thing
was really
rigged
against me.
I mean
I always felt
like I was
two steps away
from big trouble.
Now I understand
if you're an alcoholic
you are always
two steps away
from big trouble.
But
when I was a kid
I thought
this deal's unfair.
Of course that helped me
learn how to have resentments
and
so I got a lot
out of it
after all.
I did stuff
that I was
that made me think
everything was
was okay.
I came into Atlanta
out of University of Georgia
in my graduating class
I was in the
this is from
a major professor
I was in the top
ten percent
of wage earners
starting out
from the University of Georgia
now
not counting
the guys
that went to work
for daddy
and women
who went to work
for daddy
if you leave them out
it's in the top ten percent
and I was
in sales
in
printing
and advertising
and publishing
which meant
that stuff
y'all have seen
on Mad Men
it's true
they're not
puffin
it was a little
wilder
in New York City
than it was
in Atlanta
cause this is
the Bible Belt
people here
that pretend
they don't drink
but
it
it was wild
and crazy
and we drank a lot
and that was
what we were supposed
to do
and we had
monster expense accounts
and so
when you spend
a lot of money
on clients
you didn't get
fussed at
for blowing cash
you got praised
for spending
all that time
with our precious clients
and I thought
that was
wonderful
and so
I did it
better than
I thought
and I got more
and more praised
and I made money
and won awards
and got prizes
all kind of
wonderful things
and we also
got invited
to all the parties
when you call
on high profile
people
you get invited
to high profile
parties
and
I had a
I had a
tailor made
tuxedo
also had a
30 inch waist
and that
that's a nice
memory
and
and
well
by the way
the
shoes
have been
loose
and
ready
yep
just
so
it was
bad
for the
limbs
and
that
solved
two
big
issues
but
still
one
more
did
some
every
celebrity
What a lot of people call bullshit, that's what it was.
But the thing about it is it felt good at the time.
And you got to be with everybody.
Everybody got to be with you.
You were connected with a whole lot of people.
And they all knew each other.
And moving around in that.
And I did.
I got to meet some fantastic people.
I mean, a whole bunch of those people I said I drank with were friends.
I wasn't friends with James Brown and his famous flames.
I don't mean that.
But I was friends with an awful lot of those Atlanta people.
And we broke bread.
We got drunk.
We spent a lot of quality time together, though.
So there were some good things.
It wasn't all bad.
And some of those people had some tragic things happen with them, though.
And I won't go into all those.
That's their stories.
But the ones that are still alive, I'll tell them.
And that's another thing, too.
An awful lot of the folks that I drank with are dead.
And some of them are dead because of alcohol.
I had two different friends several years apart who died at the age of 54.
Both of them were 54 when they died.
About four, five, six years apart.
Both of them died when their heart exploded.
Now, think about that.
Alcohol etches the inside of your cardiovascular system the way that artists use acid to etch glass,
to put pretty pictures on glass.
Alcohol does that to the inside of your vessels and arteries and in your heart.
And if you drink enough, that's just one of the things that can happen from alcohol.
Then, as far as things happening to me from alcohol,
we had, while all this was going on, we had two children.
First we had Christopher, and 20 months later we had Patrick.
Christopher survived my alcoholism.
Patrick did not.
But if trouble could be found,
Patrick could find it.
He found it in the swimming pool one summer morning.
We lived at Dorchester over by the Good Hills Golf Club.
It's condos now.
It was apartments then.
And he was in a near-death condition when a neighbor spotted him in the pool.
And he died seven days later after we accepted the reality of his condition.
And suspended heroic efforts on the part of hospital staff and physicians.
And I don't know if many of you have had anything like that happen to you,
but you don't ever get over it.
You never do.
And most couples who have a minor child die of anything other than a long-term illness,
it's like 98% of them get a divorce.
You just can't deal with each other.
You don't know what's going to happen to you after that happens.
And it's about six miracles that Carrie and I did not get a divorce.
And I know good and damn well that if we had,
I would have been dead in a very short time.
Because she had a lot to do with why it took me longer than,
as long as it did, to try to drink myself to death.
So what happened with me,
when I kept drinking,
was in 1983,
I was walking in the backyard one morning in our home over here in Brookhaven.
We had a little vegetable plot out there.
There's still enough grass and room and everything,
enough to play touch football with the kids.
But we had room for a little garden, too.
And I was out looking at tomatoes and bell peppers and stuff like that.
And all of a sudden,
I had a pain in my back that felt like,
somebody was chopping me with an axe.
And I had no idea what the pain was,
but I knew it was really bad enough that I think I'm going to die.
And I was so terrified,
I didn't even care.
I was upstairs asleep,
Sunday morning early.
And I went and got in the car and drove to DeKalb Medical.
And when I got in there,
they said tell us what's going on.
As soon as I told them,
they knew what it was.
And so they gave me a shot of morphine.
And then they gave me another one a little while later when I wouldn't stop screaming.
Then they gave me another one a little while later when I wouldn't stop screaming.
And when they gave me the fourth shot,
they said,
this is all we can give you because more than this will kill you.
If this doesn't work,
you're screwed.
And it worked.
So two days later,
I woke up.
And the first thing I saw,
this is really weird,
was not my wife,
was Carol Maloof,
Robert Maloof's wife,
Manuel's brother's wife.
And Carol was looking in the room.
She said,
he's awake.
And I found out and Carrie was sitting down.
So I couldn't see her.
Carol was standing up.
She was tall.
And, um,
but, um,
uh,
uh,
But I found out the rest of the day, during the day I talked to different doctors
who kept coming in and telling me stuff.
And the next day, Bill Hardcastle, who was the chief of surgery at DeKalb,
came in and he said,
your operation was the nastiest piece of work I have ever done in my life.
And he said, and I've done over a thousand thoracic and abdominal surgeries.
He said, my chief nurse threw up in the OR.
It was that bad.
And I had pancreatitis and I had gangrene on the inside.
And that was why it was so bad when they cut me open.
It was like, oh, it killed all the other germs in the room, I'm sure.
But they said, when I was leaving the hospital,
several MDs told me,
they said,
if you drink again, you're going to get pancreatitis again
because you have insulted your pancreas and your liver so bad,
you're not going to be able to live through this again.
And I proved to them that they were wrong by drinking for four more years.
And I don't know how that happened.
I don't know how I was able to do that.
But,
I took a six-weeks break,
went out of town on a business trip,
sat down to lunch with a guy,
and he said, I need a drink.
And I said, me too.
And, you know, by then,
that was Columbia, South Carolina.
Two drinks on the way back to Atlanta that afternoon from Columbia,
which is a 45-minute trip.
And then stopped off at Colony Square, a familiar bar,
as soon as I could get away from the airport and get into town.
And then I was off and running.
I was off and running for four more years.
And when I got here, I had gone to,
well, I'd gone to jails.
Where I'd gone was,
I was driving my four-year-old VW Rabbit,
which is a magnificent piece of engineering,
and a guy in a brand-new,
we're talking about less than 48 hours old,
280Z,
got in my way.
And so, the reason I'm so proud of the engineering on the Volkswagen
is it wiped out the Z.
It only did about $1,200 worth of damage to the Volkswagen.
But anyway, that put me in jail.
So, rather than rush down there and get me the next day
when they found out where I was,
my wife and one of the priests at St. Tholomew's
showed up late in the afternoon.
And I said,
y'all took your time getting here.
And so this priest says,
well, we knew you weren't going anywhere,
and we were busy.
Kind of set things up for how people are going to relate to me now.
And we got in the car,
and we're driving back out to northeast Atlanta,
and the priest says,
so we're going to go to the police station.
And he says,
well, when are you going to a meeting?
And I said, well, I guess I'll go right away.
And I did that so she would not say anything else like that.
I didn't want to hear it.
And so I came home,
tried to pull myself together,
started seeing how bad things really were,
because now, all of a sudden,
even after a couple of days, I'm not drinking.
And I know that things are bad.
Things are really, really bad.
The marriage has fallen apart.
My son is a freshman in college up at Berry,
and I have no idea what's going on with him.
And my career was in a washout mode.
And so here I show up at NABBA,
and I like to characterize it as
I fell into the hands of angels when I got here.
And those angels were Stan Parks and Gerald Daly.
Stan's dead now.
Is there a thing on here?
They took me in.
I asked them after I'd been here for several months
if they would, both of them,
be my sponsors.
And Gerald just started laughing.
And he said,
We've been sponsoring you since you got here.
And then Stan said,
You dumb shit.
And so they did it.
And they did it right, I think.
And what they did,
Stan says,
Just don't drink and go to meetings.
And do what we do.
Just do what we do.
Don't try to figure this out.
Just do what we do.
And I couldn't do anything else
because I didn't know what was going on.
And I found out that just this is what we did,
and this is what we got,
and you can do this too if you really want to.
We'll show you how.
That's how it works in AA.
And I didn't understand what was going on.
I felt comfortable because they were kind of holding on to me.
I was still terrified.
And I heard this guy in the men's meeting,
and he was sitting over there
with that chap in the visor sitting,
and his name was Harry.
And Harry's out in Utah now.
And I don't remember what Harry said,
but he said something I understood.
And I thought, wow, I'm going to get it.
It's going to work.
I can understand this.
And Harry did not finish the eighth grade.
Harry spent a whole lot of time in prison.
Harry taught me about the egalitarian nature of AA,
that it was for everybody,
and everybody was the same here.
We didn't have any special people here.
We didn't have any royalty,
and we didn't have any bums either.
Everybody was the same here.
And Harry taught me that.
He also taught me,
and I love the way he used to say this,
anytime two drunks get gut level honest with each other,
God is there.
And I believe it.
That may be the only way to get God where you want him anyway,
or her, whatever.
We took our time doing the steps.
I kept saying, I want to go ahead and do my fourth step.
I'm ready to do my fourth step.
So we can do our fifth step together.
Stan, Gerald.
And Stan kept saying, nope.
Gerald kept saying, nope.
And I would just feel bad and keep muddling along.
And finally I just said, you know,
why won't you guys let me go ahead and do the fourth step,
so we can sit down and do the fifth step.
And Stan said,
because you're still lying to us.
And I had become so like the life I was having for all those years,
those 25 years of drinking,
about being dishonest,
that I did not know how to tell the truth more than 15 minutes in a row.
It didn't matter what we were talking about.
And so I had to get a consciousness about that.
And it wasn't easy.
It was hard to do.
I had learned to live and think a certain way.
And it was really hard to live and think a different way.
And finally they said I could go ahead.
We could do that.
And applying the principles in all my affairs,
I've got friends in here who have been to more than one 12-step program.
And I had to go to one that deals with money,
because I didn't have enough rigorous honesty about money.
To be able to manage financial affairs without screwing them up.
But I did that.
And Gerald sent me there.
And it worked.
It helped.
And it made it better.
And it made it different.
And it's all better now.
That kind of thing is not a problem anymore in my life.
So, what happens after you've been sober more than 20 years?
And some of the things that have happened to me,
is finding some things that I said when I was a very young person.
This is what I want.
When I was about 15, I said,
I want to be a poet.
I want to write poetry.
I want to write words like some of these I've read.
I had some great teachers.
I had fantastic teachers in high school.
One of my teachers in high school taught,
and I had her for my junior and senior years,
taught Carson McCullers,
who was Carson Smith then,
and a member of the wedding and that kind of thing.
And they all thought she was going to be a concert pianist.
They thought, well, she'd started out at Juilliard.
But she was a better writer than she was a pianist.
But she was taught by my high school English teacher for my junior and senior year.
I had some other great teachers.
And I'd read these poems,
and I'd fall in love with these words.
And I said, I have to do this.
And I didn't do a poem that I thought was worth sharing with other people
until I was 56 years old.
And I'd been in here a pretty long time by then.
Well, it seemed like a long time anyway.
And so since then, I've published two books of poetry.
And I've got another one in the works right now.
Everybody doesn't read them,
but the people that do read them love them,
which is what matters.
Two of them have had music written for them
and have been performed in churches.
They're kind of religious.
And I always say in AA, I'm not religious.
I'm an Episcopalian.
But that was something else that I got to do too.
I had sat in a pew or a chair or something
at St. Tholomew's for a bunch of years,
since 1975.
So I'd been sitting there for 12 years before I ever came to AA.
And I had known they had something there that I wanted,
just like you people had something I wanted.
They had something I wanted too.
I had no idea what it was or how to get it,
just like when I came in here.
I didn't know what y'all had,
I didn't know how to get it.
I thought maybe it was something I either needed or wanted.
And I thought that about St. Tholomew's as well.
Not necessarily the entire church,
the whole church or the whole Episcopal church,
but just that one.
And so I found out that I was able to be useful in that
and get involved in things in the diocese and do stuff.
And it has been very rewarding.
And the thing about,
the thing about my,
the parts of the Big Book that I love the best
are the parts that show me the stuff that I had
handed to me on a silver platter in my life
that I ruined, that I screwed up,
that I drunk up.
I can have things that nice again.
I can have a life outside of alcohol.
And it can involve other people.
And it can be rich.
And it can be rewarding.
And it can be a blessing to them and to me too.
And I've been able to do that because I've been sober.
And I got that way here.
And if you,
Stan used to say,
if you do what we did,
you'll get what we got.
Somebody else does that too, I think.
He did,
we worked in the same,
I'm almost finished.
We worked in the same company for about a year.
Same printing company.
And Stan was the chief estimator
for all their printing jobs.
And I was in sales there.
And this was towards the end of my corporate life.
But I went into Stan's office one day
and everybody was welcome
and he never had the door closed.
And on his desk was a Big Book,
a bottle of vodka,
a pint, not enough to really enjoy yourself,
but a pint,
and a pistol.
And this is a place of business.
This is a place that's got a board of directors
and a CEO and all that stuff.
I said,
Stan, for God's sakes,
you've got a pistol on your desk.
And I knew he wouldn't drink in the vodka,
so I didn't know what that was about.
I knew what the Big Book was.
But there's a pistol.
He said,
I just had a guy come in here
who doesn't know if he wants to stay sober or not.
And he said,
I keep that shit in the drawer
for this kind of occasion.
He said,
when he started whining to me,
he didn't know if he wanted to stay sober or not.
I said,
you've got three choices.
You can get sober,
you can get drunk,
or you can kill yourself.
And he said,
I don't know how to make that decision.
So I pulled out the pistol,
I pulled out the Big Book,
and I pulled out the bottle
and put them on the desk and said,
make a decision with that.
The guy picked the Big Book,
the guy picked the Big Book.
I said,
how many times have you done this, Stan?
He said,
a bunch of times.
They always pick the Big Book.
I asked him if the gun was loaded.
He said,
of course the gun's loaded.
It wouldn't have any value
if the gun were not loaded.
That's how I understand AA.
This deal,
it's loaded.
You know,
it's there.
I told y'all at the beginning,
I really love whiskey,
and I really love
all the stuff that went with that.
I really did.
I didn't love the pain and suffering
that I caused to other people
and that I caused to myself.
But the front end of the deal,
I really loved.
But I know
from all that I've seen
since I've been here,
I know how easy it would be
for me to say,
I want to do that again
just one more time.
But I also know
the absolute terror
and destruction
that that brings.
And I don't want it.
And you all taught me
how to not want it.
And I appreciate that.
That's it.
You can very much
for being here tonight.
Share your experience,
faith and hope with us.
Well, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
A little.
Then what can I
be?
Thank you very much.
Thank you.
But I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
Stay away from danger
Midnight waitin' out of the sky
Stay away from danger
I've been outweighed since I was a child
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
A woman like that makes me thirsty
But for me to drink is to die
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
When I feel my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
I know there's gonna be trouble
I know there's gonna be trouble
I know there's gonna be trouble
My name is Jeff, and I am an alcoholic.
Hey, everybody.
Welcome to the Monday Night Blue Chip Speakers Meeting at the NAVIC Club.
We're a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.
With one or more years, the sobriety tells his or her story.
I give you a can.
I'm Ken, and I'm an alcoholic.
I started coming into this room in October of 1987,
and there are faces here that were there, that were here when we were here.
It seemed like there it was so long ago.
Terry and I went through basements.
We went through the basic together in AA.
That's what it felt like.
We shared some sponsorship with folks and whatnot.
And for the first seven or eight years that I was in AA,
most of that time I lived exactly one mile from here in Brookhaven.
And I didn't live in the house I owned in Brookhaven.
I drank that up.
I lived in the apartment that I could afford in Brookhaven at that time,
which was okay.
But one mile from here, so I was here most days for the 545,
every day for the 8 o'clock, and that was seven days a week.
So I came to this meeting for a long, long time, every Monday night.
And I don't remember what it was like some of that time.
I don't remember a lot of things from some of that time.
I think I was almost...
I was almost wet-brained when I got here.
One of the things I noticed coming to this meeting in the old days was
I would listen to people tell their story.
And when they finished telling their story, I would say,
they were really drunk, and now they're not.
And that's what I know about this guy.
He was really messed up, or she.
And they're not anymore.
And they got to be better off than they were.
I didn't know much about them.
And also, I started telling my story when I was asked,
because I was told by my sponsors,
when they ask you to do something and they say yes,
don't ever say, I'm sorry, I'm busy, because you're not, and say yes.
And so when they asked me to tell my story, I said yes.
And I would tell my story extemporaneously,
the way I'm speaking now.
And then I got older, and I started to find
that extemporaneous means I got to talking
about something y'all weren't interested in at all,
but I found eminently fascinating.
And then we didn't get to finish the story.
So I decided I would start telling my story from notes,
and that's what I'm going to do tonight.
And if you find that offensive, you can contact the people
in New York, and they've got a form.
You can fill out.
You have to do it online and send it off.
And you can deal with it, you know.
But anyway, I thought one of the things I also missed
from some of the people that told their stories that I heard
so many of in here was that I didn't know very much
about them personally.
So I thought I would preamble my AA story with some stuff
about me just as a plain, vanilla human being in this life.
And so here's what it starts out with.
I was born on the campus
of the University of New York.
I was born on the campus of the University of New York.
I was born on the campus of the University of New York.
I was born on the campus of the University of Texas.
And this is still true.
You can see the room I was born in from the back steps
of the Texas Capitol building, its oldest building on the campus.
No kidding.
By the time I was 11 years old, I had spent more than half my life
in Puerto Rico, and I was an Army brat.
That's what I was doing there.
And I came home from Christmas my freshman year, saw a beautiful,
beautiful girl in a play, freshman year in college.
I saw a beautiful girl in a play, and I said, wow, wow.
The next night, I was with a friend on the way to a movie.
He said, I got to stop and say Merry Christmas to this girl.
We went to her mom and dad's house.
It was the same girl.
And I said, this is a big deal.
Things happening that you don't, you're not in charge of.
You don't know what's going on, but I'm, I've been married to her now for,
you know, 50 years.
The first time they had an IQ test administered in the U.S.
for people who could not read, would be little bitty kids,
I took it at Mercer University.
They also had it at Princeton University.
These are weird things that happened in my life.
I was, I was a professional drinker.
That is, I was not an amateur.
I did not every now and then go to a bar and get drunk and go out
and throw a beer.
I was a professional drinker. That is, I was not an amateur. I did not every now and then go to a bar and get drunk and go out and throw a beer.
I did not throw it in the parking lot.
I drank professionally with an expense account every freaking day.
And it was wonderful and I loved it.
And I know there's a lot of people in AA who drank and feel bad about it.
That they didn't like it.
It was bad to them and they were bad to others and they hate it.
That is not my experience.
If I could do it today, I would.
And I know I can't, but I loved it.
And I drank with a lot of cool people.
I just want you all to know,
a few of the people I drank with.
I've had drinks with,
these are all real,
Julie Andrews,
Richard Dreyfuss,
William Wyndham,
Joe Williams,
Alex Hawkins,
Jimmy Orr,
Jimmy Carter,
Sam Masell,
Max Cleland,
Ludlow Porch,
David Schwartz,
Helen O'Connell,
that's an old one,
Pat Conroy,
Stuart Woods,
Paul,
Paul Hemphill,
Dale Earnhardt,
Sammy Davis Jr.,
Bill Mallard,
Grayson Cookie Hamilton,
Norris Herndon,
John Huey,
Al Brazelton,
Zell Miller,
when he was a Democrat,
Manuel Maloof,
and James Brown
and his famous flames.
The whole band.
I had drinks with them.
Anyway,
I loved it.
I loved drinking.
And I loved drinking with people.
So,
this is a deep sickness for me
because it's like
throughout everything in my life.
I had a lot of experiences
with people
and because of the business
that I was in in sales.
A lot of great experiences
like the Atlanta Jazz Festival
and listening to Nina Simone
and people like that.
Dizzy Gillespie
and Jimmy Smith.
All those folks.
Dr. John.
And there's a lot of drinking
and all that stuff.
And it was all paid for
by somebody else.
It was so easy to do.
So,
anyway,
that's something about
how I did my life.
And this story starts,
the drinking part of this story
starts in 1962,
which was the year
I graduated from high school.
I started college.
The next morning
after I graduated,
I could not wait
to get out of my parents' house.
I didn't know it then,
but later on,
I figured it out.
They didn't have any booze
in their house.
That was one reason
I needed to get out of there.
When I was a freshman in college,
I fell in love with Kerry
and I fell in love
with Scotch Whiskey.
And those two things happened
within a few months of each other.
It's amazing
how things just thread together
in your life.
And the civilization
that we know,
Western civilization,
I understood from history
was held together
by Irish monks
during the Dark Ages.
And I think
Scotch Whiskey
held my life together
the way they held
civilization together
in very much the same way.
I would have fallen apart
without it.
I really believe
that.
And that comes
into the realm
of the kind of
spiritual paradoxes
that you have,
like you can't keep it
unless you give it away.
The life that you can have
that's most abundant
is the life you have
when you give your life
away for others.
And things like
you can't think your way
into sober living,
but you can live your way
into sober thinking.
And,
you know,
and other things
about spirits.
Like,
one drink
is too many
and a thousand
is not enough.
I went off to college
and I was a decent student
most of the time.
A, B, C,
sometimes Dean's List,
sometimes not.
And I started
at Piedmont College
and I was asked to leave
by the president.
Not for good reason.
We just had a
little agreement.
And so I went to
the University of Georgia,
changed majors,
changed schools.
And I had started
selling liquor
while I was at Piedmont.
I mean,
if you're selling liquor
and you have a foot locker
or two of liquor
in your room,
in your dorm,
you don't ever run out of liquor.
And you also don't run out of money.
Because people won't have that.
And we were in a dry county.
And then,
when I moved to Athens,
it was the same way.
It was a dry county too.
And so,
some of the liquor I sold
was non-tax paid.
I stopped doing that
when some boys
up in one of the high schools
in Gainesville died
from buying stuff
from the guy
I was buying my stuff from.
So I stopped doing that.
But I kept selling
tax paid whiskey
the whole time
I was at Georgia.
And we had a little shop.
We kind of set up
in the trunk
of the car
behind the Chi Phi house
every Friday and Saturday night.
And Dean Tate would stand around
and talk to us
while we sold liquor.
And that was under the
Boys Will Be Boys rule
that once you had it
at a fraternity house
that the management
of the university
wouldn't do anything about it.
But Dean Tate raided our room
every Saturday morning
at 9 o'clock
the whole time I was at Georgia.
And he never found the liquor.
And after I graduated
I met him in downtown Atlanta
one day and he said
where would y'all have the liquor?
And I wouldn't tell him.
And then I met his son
after he died.
And his son found out
who I was
and he said
tell me
you never told my daddy
where'd y'all have the liquor?
That was his son
after Dean Tate died.
I was an Army brat
so I didn't get to stay
in one place very long.
I got to move around
a lot.
And that changes
things for you.
I envy now
sometimes
I envy people
that grew up
in the same neighborhood
and went to the same
grammar school
and the same
high school
that all their friends
went to.
And they're
my age now.
And they've got
Facebook friends
that are the same
ancient age
that's suburban.
And they still are in touch.
They still hug each other
and they still
are in touch.
They still hug each other.
And they still
are in touch.
They still hug each other.
They still hug each other
when they see each other
and they hugged each other
the first time
when they were
in the third grade
or something like that.
I don't have any people
like that.
I found it very hard
to find the people
that I grew up with
because they're scattered
everywhere
and I can't remember
their names
and that sort of thing.
So
but
it also
makes you agile
makes it easy
for you to
deal with situations
when you
when you move
every three years
or sometimes
in two years
if a war breaks out.
You have to run off.
And that happened
at least once
when Korea came
and
so
there are things
you have to
adapt to
and
I spent an afternoon
one time
talking with
Pat Conroy
who wrote
Prince of Tides
and
The Great Santini
and
a lot of his stuff
was about his dad
and
we talked about dads
for a whole afternoon.
We drank while
we were doing that
by the way
and
we had a lot to share
but it wasn't matched up.
His dad was a lot more
of a hard ass
than my dad was.
My dad was
I really appreciated
talking to him
because
Army brats
have a problem
a lot of them
Navy brats
Air Force brats
with how
the military was
for them
as a kid
and
I'm not
blaming anything
about drinking
on that
because I think
if I've lived
in the most
sedate
and stable
environment
in the world
I still
once I found out
how good whiskey was
I would have been
exactly the same.
So,
they didn't do it
to me
by
being Army people.
And
along in the
business
of
we talk all the time
in AA
about God
and we talk about
we don't talk about
theology
but we're just right
at the edge of it.
And that's about
let's not piss anybody off
because
you know
a lot of people
get pissed off
when you start
talking about God
because somebody
did some God thing
to them
and it hurt them.
And I've seen that
and there's a lot
of hurt people
in the world
about the God stuff
and it turns out
after a while
that
I kind of come
to understand
it's not God
that's hurting people
it's some of his
precious children
don't know how
to do it right
or something
but I had a hard time
with the God thing
when I was a little kid
because
I thought
the
sin
and punishment
and redemption
thing
was really
rigged
against me.
I mean
I always felt
like I was
two steps away
from big trouble.
Now I understand
if you're an alcoholic
you are always
two steps away
from big trouble.
But
when I was a kid
I thought
this deal's unfair.
Of course that helped me
learn how to have resentments
and
so I got a lot
out of it
after all.
I did stuff
that I was
that made me think
everything was
was okay.
I came into Atlanta
out of University of Georgia
in my graduating class
I was in the
this is from
a major professor
I was in the top
ten percent
of wage earners
starting out
from the University of Georgia
now
not counting
the guys
that went to work
for daddy
and women
who went to work
for daddy
if you leave them out
it's in the top ten percent
and I was
in sales
in
printing
and advertising
and publishing
which meant
that stuff
y'all have seen
on Mad Men
it's true
they're not
puffin
it was a little
wilder
in New York City
than it was
in Atlanta
cause this is
the Bible Belt
people here
that pretend
they don't drink
but
it
it was wild
and crazy
and we drank a lot
and that was
what we were supposed
to do
and we had
monster expense accounts
and so
when you spend
a lot of money
on clients
you didn't get
fussed at
for blowing cash
you got praised
for spending
all that time
with our precious clients
and I thought
that was
wonderful
and so
I did it
better than
I thought
and I got more
and more praised
and I made money
and won awards
and got prizes
all kind of
wonderful things
and we also
got invited
to all the parties
when you call
on high profile
people
you get invited
to high profile
parties
and
I had a
I had a
tailor made
tuxedo
also had a
30 inch waist
and that
that's a nice
memory
and
and
well
by the way
the
shoes
have been
loose
and
ready
yep
just
so
it was
bad
for the
limbs
and
that
solved
two
big
issues
but
still
one
more
did
some
every
celebrity
What a lot of people call bullshit, that's what it was.
But the thing about it is it felt good at the time.
And you got to be with everybody.
Everybody got to be with you.
You were connected with a whole lot of people.
And they all knew each other.
And moving around in that.
And I did.
I got to meet some fantastic people.
I mean, a whole bunch of those people I said I drank with were friends.
I wasn't friends with James Brown and his famous flames.
I don't mean that.
But I was friends with an awful lot of those Atlanta people.
And we broke bread.
We got drunk.
We spent a lot of quality time together, though.
So there were some good things.
It wasn't all bad.
And some of those people had some tragic things happen with them, though.
And I won't go into all those.
That's their stories.
But the ones that are still alive, I'll tell them.
And that's another thing, too.
An awful lot of the folks that I drank with are dead.
And some of them are dead because of alcohol.
I had two different friends several years apart who died at the age of 54.
Both of them were 54 when they died.
About four, five, six years apart.
Both of them died when their heart exploded.
Now, think about that.
Alcohol etches the inside of your cardiovascular system the way that artists use acid to etch glass,
to put pretty pictures on glass.
Alcohol does that to the inside of your vessels and arteries and in your heart.
And if you drink enough, that's just one of the things that can happen from alcohol.
Then, as far as things happening to me from alcohol,
we had, while all this was going on, we had two children.
First we had Christopher, and 20 months later we had Patrick.
Christopher survived my alcoholism.
Patrick did not.
But if trouble could be found,
Patrick could find it.
He found it in the swimming pool one summer morning.
We lived at Dorchester over by the Good Hills Golf Club.
It's condos now.
It was apartments then.
And he was in a near-death condition when a neighbor spotted him in the pool.
And he died seven days later after we accepted the reality of his condition.
And suspended heroic efforts on the part of hospital staff and physicians.
And I don't know if many of you have had anything like that happen to you,
but you don't ever get over it.
You never do.
And most couples who have a minor child die of anything other than a long-term illness,
it's like 98% of them get a divorce.
You just can't deal with each other.
You don't know what's going to happen to you after that happens.
And it's about six miracles that Carrie and I did not get a divorce.
And I know good and damn well that if we had,
I would have been dead in a very short time.
Because she had a lot to do with why it took me longer than,
as long as it did, to try to drink myself to death.
So what happened with me,
when I kept drinking,
was in 1983,
I was walking in the backyard one morning in our home over here in Brookhaven.
We had a little vegetable plot out there.
There's still enough grass and room and everything,
enough to play touch football with the kids.
But we had room for a little garden, too.
And I was out looking at tomatoes and bell peppers and stuff like that.
And all of a sudden,
I had a pain in my back that felt like,
somebody was chopping me with an axe.
And I had no idea what the pain was,
but I knew it was really bad enough that I think I'm going to die.
And I was so terrified,
I didn't even care.
I was upstairs asleep,
Sunday morning early.
And I went and got in the car and drove to DeKalb Medical.
And when I got in there,
they said tell us what's going on.
As soon as I told them,
they knew what it was.
And so they gave me a shot of morphine.
And then they gave me another one a little while later when I wouldn't stop screaming.
Then they gave me another one a little while later when I wouldn't stop screaming.
And when they gave me the fourth shot,
they said,
this is all we can give you because more than this will kill you.
If this doesn't work,
you're screwed.
And it worked.
So two days later,
I woke up.
And the first thing I saw,
this is really weird,
was not my wife,
was Carol Maloof,
Robert Maloof's wife,
Manuel's brother's wife.
And Carol was looking in the room.
She said,
he's awake.
And I found out and Carrie was sitting down.
So I couldn't see her.
Carol was standing up.
She was tall.
And, um,
but, um,
uh,
uh,
But I found out the rest of the day, during the day I talked to different doctors
who kept coming in and telling me stuff.
And the next day, Bill Hardcastle, who was the chief of surgery at DeKalb,
came in and he said,
your operation was the nastiest piece of work I have ever done in my life.
And he said, and I've done over a thousand thoracic and abdominal surgeries.
He said, my chief nurse threw up in the OR.
It was that bad.
And I had pancreatitis and I had gangrene on the inside.
And that was why it was so bad when they cut me open.
It was like, oh, it killed all the other germs in the room, I'm sure.
But they said, when I was leaving the hospital,
several MDs told me,
they said,
if you drink again, you're going to get pancreatitis again
because you have insulted your pancreas and your liver so bad,
you're not going to be able to live through this again.
And I proved to them that they were wrong by drinking for four more years.
And I don't know how that happened.
I don't know how I was able to do that.
But,
I took a six-weeks break,
went out of town on a business trip,
sat down to lunch with a guy,
and he said, I need a drink.
And I said, me too.
And, you know, by then,
that was Columbia, South Carolina.
Two drinks on the way back to Atlanta that afternoon from Columbia,
which is a 45-minute trip.
And then stopped off at Colony Square, a familiar bar,
as soon as I could get away from the airport and get into town.
And then I was off and running.
I was off and running for four more years.
And when I got here, I had gone to,
well, I'd gone to jails.
Where I'd gone was,
I was driving my four-year-old VW Rabbit,
which is a magnificent piece of engineering,
and a guy in a brand-new,
we're talking about less than 48 hours old,
280Z,
got in my way.
And so, the reason I'm so proud of the engineering on the Volkswagen
is it wiped out the Z.
It only did about $1,200 worth of damage to the Volkswagen.
But anyway, that put me in jail.
So, rather than rush down there and get me the next day
when they found out where I was,
my wife and one of the priests at St. Tholomew's
showed up late in the afternoon.
And I said,
y'all took your time getting here.
And so this priest says,
well, we knew you weren't going anywhere,
and we were busy.
Kind of set things up for how people are going to relate to me now.
And we got in the car,
and we're driving back out to northeast Atlanta,
and the priest says,
so we're going to go to the police station.
And he says,
well, when are you going to a meeting?
And I said, well, I guess I'll go right away.
And I did that so she would not say anything else like that.
I didn't want to hear it.
And so I came home,
tried to pull myself together,
started seeing how bad things really were,
because now, all of a sudden,
even after a couple of days, I'm not drinking.
And I know that things are bad.
Things are really, really bad.
The marriage has fallen apart.
My son is a freshman in college up at Berry,
and I have no idea what's going on with him.
And my career was in a washout mode.
And so here I show up at NABBA,
and I like to characterize it as
I fell into the hands of angels when I got here.
And those angels were Stan Parks and Gerald Daly.
Stan's dead now.
Is there a thing on here?
They took me in.
I asked them after I'd been here for several months
if they would, both of them,
be my sponsors.
And Gerald just started laughing.
And he said,
We've been sponsoring you since you got here.
And then Stan said,
You dumb shit.
And so they did it.
And they did it right, I think.
And what they did,
Stan says,
Just don't drink and go to meetings.
And do what we do.
Just do what we do.
Don't try to figure this out.
Just do what we do.
And I couldn't do anything else
because I didn't know what was going on.
And I found out that just this is what we did,
and this is what we got,
and you can do this too if you really want to.
We'll show you how.
That's how it works in AA.
And I didn't understand what was going on.
I felt comfortable because they were kind of holding on to me.
I was still terrified.
And I heard this guy in the men's meeting,
and he was sitting over there
with that chap in the visor sitting,
and his name was Harry.
And Harry's out in Utah now.
And I don't remember what Harry said,
but he said something I understood.
And I thought, wow, I'm going to get it.
It's going to work.
I can understand this.
And Harry did not finish the eighth grade.
Harry spent a whole lot of time in prison.
Harry taught me about the egalitarian nature of AA,
that it was for everybody,
and everybody was the same here.
We didn't have any special people here.
We didn't have any royalty,
and we didn't have any bums either.
Everybody was the same here.
And Harry taught me that.
He also taught me,
and I love the way he used to say this,
anytime two drunks get gut level honest with each other,
God is there.
And I believe it.
That may be the only way to get God where you want him anyway,
or her, whatever.
We took our time doing the steps.
I kept saying, I want to go ahead and do my fourth step.
I'm ready to do my fourth step.
So we can do our fifth step together.
Stan, Gerald.
And Stan kept saying, nope.
Gerald kept saying, nope.
And I would just feel bad and keep muddling along.
And finally I just said, you know,
why won't you guys let me go ahead and do the fourth step,
so we can sit down and do the fifth step.
And Stan said,
because you're still lying to us.
And I had become so like the life I was having for all those years,
those 25 years of drinking,
about being dishonest,
that I did not know how to tell the truth more than 15 minutes in a row.
It didn't matter what we were talking about.
And so I had to get a consciousness about that.
And it wasn't easy.
It was hard to do.
I had learned to live and think a certain way.
And it was really hard to live and think a different way.
And finally they said I could go ahead.
We could do that.
And applying the principles in all my affairs,
I've got friends in here who have been to more than one 12-step program.
And I had to go to one that deals with money,
because I didn't have enough rigorous honesty about money.
To be able to manage financial affairs without screwing them up.
But I did that.
And Gerald sent me there.
And it worked.
It helped.
And it made it better.
And it made it different.
And it's all better now.
That kind of thing is not a problem anymore in my life.
So, what happens after you've been sober more than 20 years?
And some of the things that have happened to me,
is finding some things that I said when I was a very young person.
This is what I want.
When I was about 15, I said,
I want to be a poet.
I want to write poetry.
I want to write words like some of these I've read.
I had some great teachers.
I had fantastic teachers in high school.
One of my teachers in high school taught,
and I had her for my junior and senior years,
taught Carson McCullers,
who was Carson Smith then,
and a member of the wedding and that kind of thing.
And they all thought she was going to be a concert pianist.
They thought, well, she'd started out at Juilliard.
But she was a better writer than she was a pianist.
But she was taught by my high school English teacher for my junior and senior year.
I had some other great teachers.
And I'd read these poems,
and I'd fall in love with these words.
And I said, I have to do this.
And I didn't do a poem that I thought was worth sharing with other people
until I was 56 years old.
And I'd been in here a pretty long time by then.
Well, it seemed like a long time anyway.
And so since then, I've published two books of poetry.
And I've got another one in the works right now.
Everybody doesn't read them,
but the people that do read them love them,
which is what matters.
Two of them have had music written for them
and have been performed in churches.
They're kind of religious.
And I always say in AA, I'm not religious.
I'm an Episcopalian.
But that was something else that I got to do too.
I had sat in a pew or a chair or something
at St. Tholomew's for a bunch of years,
since 1975.
So I'd been sitting there for 12 years before I ever came to AA.
And I had known they had something there that I wanted,
just like you people had something I wanted.
They had something I wanted too.
I had no idea what it was or how to get it,
just like when I came in here.
I didn't know what y'all had,
I didn't know how to get it.
I thought maybe it was something I either needed or wanted.
And I thought that about St. Tholomew's as well.
Not necessarily the entire church,
the whole church or the whole Episcopal church,
but just that one.
And so I found out that I was able to be useful in that
and get involved in things in the diocese and do stuff.
And it has been very rewarding.
And the thing about,
the thing about my,
the parts of the Big Book that I love the best
are the parts that show me the stuff that I had
handed to me on a silver platter in my life
that I ruined, that I screwed up,
that I drunk up.
I can have things that nice again.
I can have a life outside of alcohol.
And it can involve other people.
And it can be rich.
And it can be rewarding.
And it can be a blessing to them and to me too.
And I've been able to do that because I've been sober.
And I got that way here.
And if you,
Stan used to say,
if you do what we did,
you'll get what we got.
Somebody else does that too, I think.
He did,
we worked in the same,
I'm almost finished.
We worked in the same company for about a year.
Same printing company.
And Stan was the chief estimator
for all their printing jobs.
And I was in sales there.
And this was towards the end of my corporate life.
But I went into Stan's office one day
and everybody was welcome
and he never had the door closed.
And on his desk was a Big Book,
a bottle of vodka,
a pint, not enough to really enjoy yourself,
but a pint,
and a pistol.
And this is a place of business.
This is a place that's got a board of directors
and a CEO and all that stuff.
I said,
Stan, for God's sakes,
you've got a pistol on your desk.
And I knew he wouldn't drink in the vodka,
so I didn't know what that was about.
I knew what the Big Book was.
But there's a pistol.
He said,
I just had a guy come in here
who doesn't know if he wants to stay sober or not.
And he said,
I keep that shit in the drawer
for this kind of occasion.
He said,
when he started whining to me,
he didn't know if he wanted to stay sober or not.
I said,
you've got three choices.
You can get sober,
you can get drunk,
or you can kill yourself.
And he said,
I don't know how to make that decision.
So I pulled out the pistol,
I pulled out the Big Book,
and I pulled out the bottle
and put them on the desk and said,
make a decision with that.
The guy picked the Big Book,
the guy picked the Big Book.
I said,
how many times have you done this, Stan?
He said,
a bunch of times.
They always pick the Big Book.
I asked him if the gun was loaded.
He said,
of course the gun's loaded.
It wouldn't have any value
if the gun were not loaded.
That's how I understand AA.
This deal,
it's loaded.
You know,
it's there.
I told y'all at the beginning,
I really love whiskey,
and I really love
all the stuff that went with that.
I really did.
I didn't love the pain and suffering
that I caused to other people
and that I caused to myself.
But the front end of the deal,
I really loved.
But I know
from all that I've seen
since I've been here,
I know how easy it would be
for me to say,
I want to do that again
just one more time.
But I also know
the absolute terror
and destruction
that that brings.
And I don't want it.
And you all taught me
how to not want it.
And I appreciate that.
That's it.
You can very much
for being here tonight.
Share your experience,
faith and hope with us.
Well, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
A little.
Then what can I
be?
Thank you very much.
Thank you.
But I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
Stay away from danger
Midnight waitin' out of the sky
Stay away from danger
I've been outweighed since I was a child
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
A woman like that makes me thirsty
But for me to drink is to die
I know there's gonna be trouble
When my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
When I feel my mouth turns out
I know there's gonna be trouble
I know there's gonna be trouble
I know there's gonna be trouble
I know there's gonna be trouble
More Tapes You Might Like
Discussion
Be the first to share your thoughts on this tape.