The Word Prejudice Appears Seven Times in We Agnostics and That Is the Whole Chapter — Marty J.

Please Rate This Tape!
Be the first to rate!

About This Speaker Tape

Marty, a Canadian sober since February 8, 1976, speaks to an agnostics retreat at Lake Mead after stepping back from a grueling speaking circuit that had him giving 52 talks a year until he no longer recognized his own voice. He opens with gratitude, a Franklin Williams poem about an auctioned violin transformed by the master's hand, and memories of the old giants — Chuck C., Tommy Breen — whose CDs he urges listeners to collect. He frames his talk around the We Agnostics chapter of the Big Book, pointing out that the word "prejudice" appears seven times in it and is the hidden obstacle to finding a Higher Power.

He tells how he sobered up at 23 after only twelve years of drinking, guided by a 250-pound Norwegian sponsor named Dwayne who threatened to break every bone in his body out of love, and by Jeff Charlebois, a thirty-year old-timer whose simple "you're going to make it" carried him through. He describes his father — a six-foot-three Irishman who once spanked a man in a bar and who beat Marty down the night he came home drunk at eighteen looking for a fight — and his grandmother's warning to "mind your station," both sources of the prejudices that kept him locked up.

Marty walks through the We Agnostics passages about lack of power, obstinacy, sensitiveness, and unreasoning prejudice, tying each to his own history: watching for wind to blow on him at the Breakfast Group, resenting Dwayne's dead dog Tinker doing tricks at a sober Friday night, refusing to believe men could gather in a room without drinking. He names the nine young people under 27 he has buried — car wrecks, suicides, drowning in their own vomit — and a young man named Vince from PEI who hung up the phone and died that night after deciding to go back out.

He closes with the collapse of his 31-year marriage a year earlier: his wife came downstairs while he was watching golf and said she wanted her own life, wanted to go on safari, wanted to hang upside down on Ferris wheels. He never thought of drinking, only briefly of murder. A week later he called a movie-actress friend, Kiara, for a phone number and ended up dating her. Now in Washington, D.C., twenty-two minutes from the White House, writing children's cartoons and building child-safety software pitched to the Federal Reserve and Pentagon, driving a Lexus he used to hate, learning to cook, he says the through-line is the same: laying aside prejudice, staying on the broad highway, and letting Higher Power show him what's in the next box.

Discussion

Be the first to share your thoughts on this tape.