September 1957. A back alley on Skid Row in Roanoke, Virginia, where the world stopped moving and the hair on his head actually hurt. Dave R. arrived at the doors of the fellowship with nothing but a paper bag containing a toothbrush, a razor, twelve pennies, and an ear syringe. He had spent years as a "professional" wreckage-maker: a high school coach who wrote bad checks, a husband who destroyed his first wife's life, and a patient who "found his thrill on Dick's Hill" in the state asylum, where he once chased squirrels in the inebriate ward.
After escaping the asylum and surviving a stint on a chain gang in the Great Dismal Swamps, Dave describes the "alcoholic count" that led him to rock bottom. He speaks of the "magic words" of the home group and the old-timers who used a kind but firm hand to keep him honest. He credits his Higher Power and the love of two women for a sobriety that has lasted over five decades.
You've been listening for a while — would you take a second to rate it? It helps others find the good ones.
Thanks — your rating was saved!
Discussion
Be the first to share your thoughts on this tape.