They Asked Me First β€” You’re Going to the State Convention as a Da*n Substitute πŸ˜‚ – Dave C.

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About This Speaker Tape

Dave C. shares his story at Sessions by the Sea in Ocean City, Maryland, just one day short of his twentieth anniversary of sobriety. A college-educated coach and engineer from North Carolina, Dave traces his alcoholism from college drinking with World War II veterans through a rapid downfall that cost him two teaching jobs, his first marriage, and his freedom. His father died of alcoholism, but Dave spent years comparing his drinking to his father's, unable to see himself clearly β€” a denial that nearly killed him.

Dave was committed to Dix Hill, North Carolina's state psychiatric hospital, five times in six months. He describes chasing squirrels in the inebriate ward, padded cells on Skid Row, and electroshock treatments in the psychiatric wing. He escaped once, was caught, and eventually served time on a chain gang. His family gave him a wad of money and told him to leave the state. Instead, he went four miles to a broken-down hotel and kept drinking. His mother finally cut him off β€” the greatest gift she ever gave him.

On September 11, 1957, Dave found himself in a back alley in Roanoke, Virginia, unable to get a drink down, convinced he would die there. A school superintendent who knew him tracked him down and brought him to the old Easy Does It Club. An old man named John Phillip, who got sober at 76, put his arm around Dave and said the words that changed everything: "All you've got to do is do what they tell you to do. You never have to be alone anymore." Three men sat up with him all night, helping him stay sober one minute at a time.

Dave credits his survival to following directions, working the twelve steps, his home group, and sponsors who told him what he needed to hear rather than what he wanted to hear. His second sponsor, Tom Perretta β€” one of AA's first hundred members β€” imposed a four-year moratorium on Dave's speaking and drilled the Big Book into him. Dave rebuilt his engineering career, married his second wife Sue, and slowly reconciled with his mother after nine and a half years of sobriety. He closes with four things he still must do: maintain a monumental desire to stay sober, build his AA around his home group, work the twelve steps daily, and on hard days, just hang on.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the committee, all those responsible for me being here this evening and joining the session about the sea. It's been a great experience. I couldn't get here other than Friday, but it is good...
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the committee, all those responsible for me being here this evening and joining the session about the sea. It's been a great experience. I couldn't get here other than Friday, but it is good to be here. It's good to see old friends and meet new friends. And now that we have all the announcements out of the way, you know, it's nice to stand up here on Sunday morning. Sometimes you begin to say, well, what can you say? It's all been said. You begin to have illusions about maybe just cutting it broke, cut it down. But it is just wonderful to stand up and notice that you're on the speaker and everything's ready to go and you want to get it over with. And it reminds me of a story that I've told many times, and I think it's appropriate that I tell it this way. Some of the old-timers on my part of the country tell me about a convention they had many years ago. They had one of these long-winded speakers, and there's some of them around. And they began to talk, and he talked about the 12 Steps for about an hour. And then another hour, he got into the 12 Editions. And then in the third hour, he went into the Three Legacies of Alcoholics and Alchemists. After three hours and a half, people began to lean. And they will lean. They found that out one night. But there was one fellow that just kept sitting on the front row, just kept looking at the podium, and the speaker began to get concerned. And he wound up his sword, ran down from the podium, grabbed the man by the hand, and says, I want to ask you one question. He says, everybody left, but why did you stay? And he says, hell, I'm the next speaker. So it's good to be here this morning. I'm an alcoholic. My name's Dave Cook. Hi, everybody. I'm a member of the Bigfoot group in Rotherham, North Carolina, which I think is the finest group in the whole wide world. And if you don't think the same thing about your home group, I suggest you find another home group. When I first got sober, I had trouble with the groups. But by God's grace, because this program worked for me, I haven't had the necessary to take a drink or any tablets since the day I became the alcoholic phenomenonist. And that day was September 12, 1957. But this has brought down very great. I've had a lot of help in my survival. I've found a... I've had good, good sponsors. I've had three sponsors. And all these sponsors led me with a kind of firm hand. And as a result of this program, I found a loving wife. It had a lot to do with my survival. And then there's people like you. Now, a lot of them in this room this morning. It has had a lot to do with my survival. And if everything goes right, and I can get through this deal this morning, and I can make that ride back to Washington this afternoon with the fellow that brought me down here, and get back home and have the opportunity to thank God for another day of surprises, I'll have a great day. And when I wake up in the morning, I'll have 20 years. But it's a long time through the day, so we'll just have to do it. It's about an hour at the time I'm ready. But I am grateful for my surprises. And I don't give my surprises to impress anybody. I give it for two reasons, and two reasons, all men. I came to Alcoholics Anonymous in the old center of Brooklyn, Ronald, Virginia. And the second meeting I ever went to in the A was one of these discussion meetings. And the age 13 or 14 with the chair sitting in the circle, and I was no different from anybody else that comes to that first meeting. I began to wonder what I was going to say when it got to me. The man who has become my sponsor, my first sponsor since then, my first sponsor spoke up as it got to me, and he says, give your name and your surprise today. That's all you are qualified to do. As a matter of fact, when the meeting was over, he told me that's all I was going to be qualified to do for the next year. Was to give my name and my surprise today. And that's about all I was allowed to do my first year in aviation. And the second reason is, in that group, that time, they had a saying that when you got behind these podiums, the tip of that podium, if you didn't give your surprise today, you usually didn't have one. So I've been giving mine ever since. I will say there are a number of benefits in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. There's marginal benefits, needs of marriage, happiness, serenity, and few material things. But any time I speak of marginal benefits, I have to speak of certain basics. And the basic benefits that I perceive in this program beyond my surprise is my sanity. My sanity. And today, as a singer-alcoholic, I find there that I don't have to run anymore. I don't have to keep stealing anymore. I don't have to lie anymore. And most important of all, I do not have to sober up anymore. And by God, to me, that's what this whole deal is about. I do not have to sober up anymore. And I didn't know that when I arrived. But the only reason I'm standing here this morning, at this platform, is because of one simple fact. All I've done, I've followed the directions. I've followed the directions that some people told me what to do and how to do it, and handed me that big book, and said, this is the way to do it. And if you can do these things, we guarantee you one day surprises will come. And that's all I've done. Just tried to follow the directions. And I don't know when I became an alcoholic. I'm not really concerned about it anymore. I know I have this disease. I have made the program of alcoholics anonymous. I'm not authorizing on the program of alcoholics anonymous. The only thing I'm authorizing on is what happened to me, what it's like now. Maybe, just maybe, when I passed away and you buried me, I'm still an active member of alcoholics anonymous and sober. Maybe you can say then that you made the program, but not me, not at all. I took my first drink when I was 16, and I knew what booze could do to a man, because I seen what happened to my father as a young kid. My father was an alcoholic. I didn't know it until I got into alcoholics anonymous. As a matter of fact, I didn't know anything about alcoholism until I got into alcoholics anonymous. So I didn't have a chance to know what an alcoholic was. My father died of drinking. I learned enough from this program after about a year or two that my father was an alcoholic. And you know we hang on to that old cliche in AA, you know, we say that we don't say whether another person is an alcoholic or not. That's true. But you know we have a pretty good idea. Like old boy says at home, you know, says, you look around long enough, and you hear him quacking, and you run in their mouths, and you're acting, and anything that makes him noise like that, you know, if he quacks like a duck, you're a duck. And if you're around enough of people that drink a lot of booze, you hear them talk about it, you pretty well know whether they're an alcoholic or not, but it's still up to them. But I went off to school when I was 16. I was raised and had everything that a kid needed growing up. And my mother loved me a great deal. I was the only boy. And I damn near died from my mother's love for me. I was one of these people that when I got into alcoholism that was, I was a protected alcoholic for a number of years. I didn't have a chance. My family protected me. The master protected me. The family doctor protected me. They all hid under the rug. They wanted to find that magic button, that magic button that you push, and you know, get him sober overnight, and he's going to be all right. And we all looked for those magic buttons. But I went off to school the first time when I was 16, in college, and I was around a bunch of fellows that had just come back from World War II that knew how to drink. And I became exposed to this environment. I've always said that I think the environment you're in and you're drinking is the way you drink. And I think the same thing is true in surprises. Surprises dictated by the kind of people you hang around. And I began to do what the big boys were doing. I knew I can look back now and remember the first time I got drunk. I had some problems from the beginning getting this stuff down. I used to hear them talk about the pleasure that comes from drinking. I was having a lot of trouble with the gagging exercises, you know. And one morning I asked one of the fellows, who was a lot older than I, I said, this pleasure that you speak of, when does it come? Because I was throwing up quite a bit. And he says, Dave, if you remember, there's a little pause in between from the time you take the drink and when you throw up, that's when the pleasure comes. And I know now what to do. But I went on through college. I didn't have any serious problems with drinking. And looking back, it's all hindsight. I can look back and see, man, it was a lot of fun drinking. I didn't know what a hangover was. And maybe, just maybe, I... Well, I started doing strange things when I was senior year in college. I studied engineering, but because of my basketball ability, I was off the job because of my high school basketball down here in the North Carolina. And I look back at my alcoholism, and there was a lot of glory in this. Well, my hometown was great. And I didn't have no problem. My first two years, I fell upstairs in the coaching profession. It wasn't long before I was well-known in that profession. It wasn't long before I moved to another school, a much larger school. And at this time, my drinking consisted of these weekend deals, you know, we'd have a party, we'd meet all these schoolmates, various cities, and they were trumps of what they were. And a little bit later on, I found myself being associated with school board members that drank, never associated with any that did not drink. And this gave me a place to go about every night and drink socially, and what that is. And it wasn't long before I became so dependent upon alcohol that I found myself... in the morning, drinking. Eating school. And going about my life, trying to perform. People began to talk to me about maybe I was having a little bit of trouble. Because the more I drank, the progression that came about, the more I let go of my responsibilities. The more I began to write these bad checks that Mother would always cover up. I had a big automobile, a bachelor's apart, and I carried out the Lucy women's late big state. I didn't have the money to pay for the gas, it wasn't that automobile, but my mother was supplement man-con, you know. And I was in trouble then, I didn't know it. Began to be more trouble. And finally it got to the point that the school guards had to talk to me about my drinking the first time my mother would get it. And I resented it. I resented it very much. And then the alcoholic did, does as I did, and you begin to find ways to get people off your back. My first way was to try to get people off my back. I decided I'd get married. You know, this... Where I was living then, and you get married, everybody in the community knew about it. This was a spectacle. So I met a girl, we courted for two weeks, and we got married. And this was a mistake from the very beginning. I'll never blame this woman for any of my drinking, because I think I was well on the road when I met her. Don't know if you ever heard of one, but we had a group honeymoon. We carried six other, three other couples with us on the honeymoon that night. You can see that this is not the proper way to begin a marriage, but I remember promising this girl, this was July, July the 4th, when we got married, I don't know why, I looked back there, and the highlight of my drinking was always associated with holidays. I got married on July the 4th, places that I later had to go, the famous places for alcoholism, was always on national holidays. But I promised her that when September came and school started back, I'd stop drinking. September came, and I found out something I didn't know, that I could not stop drinking. I could not stop drinking, although I wanted to. I could not stop it. Because my drinking by then was just of, I was just breathing alcohol. I had to have it with me at all times. All times. And because of my excessive drinking in the community, and the strange part about this disease of alcoholism, that I don't understand even today, the practice of the story of me, is the inability of the alcoholic to see himself as he really is, is the worst part of it. And I was never able to do this. It was prior to the day that I came down from Hollywood, that I could never see myself as I really was, in my worst moments. Oh, there were times that I used to look at myself, give myself a glancing look, and I'd say, maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the beer, maybe it's the brand. But always when I did this, this was in my weaker moment, when I had to bargain with somebody, to get something. And invariably as I began to get my health back, after one of these bargains, the lye in me would revive again, and I'd become that same person. I'm just drunk. I didn't have a chance. We tried to make a success of this marriage. Everybody in the community knew I was the community drunk, except she and I. My wife and I. And lo and behold, it came to the point that she had to leave. It came to the point that I was eventually fired from this school, where I'd been for five years. I was fired for one reason and one reason only, for drinking. I got into a lot of trouble. I began to write these bad checks. Mother stopped picking them up. People began to come to see me. I ain't really sure. And you know, you just don't deliver life like this, in the community where you're supposed to be. So, you know. And then lo and behold, after I got fired, I was lucky enough to be employed by another school, a little bit further east. And my story, down in my heck of the woods, you know, if you keep moving east, you get to that big body of water. And I finally got there. I just kept moving east the more I drank. And I went down to a school further east, and it was a rock bottom of a school. And there are some, and this was a rock bottom. You couldn't go any lower. But I was there for a reason. I was there for a reason, you know. I was there salvation. To see that it was a critic and so forth. I was able to last for six months at this particular school. My wife had left by this time. And the only way I could describe my life long then was that I had to get up at four or five o'clock in the morning, drank enough booze to stop shaking so I could shave, get my clothes on, take a shower, get dressed, in order to get in the automobile and drive twelve miles to the schoolhouse. And I knew what was going to happen at twelve o'clock. The shaking would come back. The variability would come back every day. And I'd have some stash of booze. And then Jim and Aiden would have the automobile where I could take the peaces and all that stuff. Stop the shaking. Then pray for three o'clock. And I'd get in that automobile and start back home. Stop at the vigil. And go by the store and find out booze. Go home and get stoned for the years. This went on for a period of about six months. Then one day at school they just stopped me in the hall in front of them. Said, A, we don't need you anymore. We want the keys. We want the keys. Now when you ask for a drink of booze, you get an alcoholic of keys. Everybody's got. That's about the end of the world. But he wanted keys. He said, you're no longer with us. And I didn't make a scrap about it. I didn't fuss about it. I didn't even cry. And that's unusual at that time. And I left that schoolhouse that day. And I was to begin a blackout. I had experienced blackouts before. But never know for long blackouts. And I don't know where I went or what I did. It was about three or four weeks. Friday night my mother had sent me to some of these places. As Willie was talking about a lot Friday night. I went to some of the best places on the East Coast for nervous breakdowns. Nobody ever talked to me about alcoholism. I've been to a lot of these places. Nothing that I would work. But after this two week blackout, I woke up in jail for the first time in my life. I was sitting where I was being screwed. I didn't know what I'd done or where I'd been. And this particular morning when I came to, a man began to talk to me through a cell door. And I later found out he was a county health doctor. And he said, son, your mother has come down here to straighten out all this mess. And we're going to send you to a place where they can cure you. And I didn't know what he was talking about. I knew I was physically weak and run down. I hadn't eaten in a long time. But I knew I was physically weak and run down. I had no way exactly I was going for the cure. The next day I found out where the cure was. And the state of North Carolina, the state of St. Anthe Island, is called the Rio for Dicks Hospital. A lot of people call it Dick's heel. And why I went for the cures the first time, is and old expression of octopus down my throat on Dick's heels. That's why I went for the cure. That's where I went for the care. That's where I went for the cures. I was 27 years of age when I went to the insane asylum the first time. So help me God, as long as I live, I hope I'll never forget my first trip to Dixiel. The first two or three days, they put me in a part of the building they called the inebriate ward. I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know until I got to AA. That's the truth. The inebriate ward. And the only thing I remember about this place is that people chase squirrels. And so I became a squirrel chaser. I chased squirrels too. A few days later, they put me down in a place in another building. Down in the basement, a place they called Skid Row. Which was nothing in the world but a padded cell. They took the clothes away from me and let me have a run in the pits. And days later, when I got through having my run in the pits, they gave my clothes back to me. And then I was allowed to do the only thing that I could do for the next 30 some odd days. Walk up and down a part of the day in and day out. Wondering what in the hell I was doing in this place. Because I began to look around me and I didn't see anybody my age. The men were a lot older than I. I didn't understand what I was doing. How well. How well. I've met a lot of people in AA. Before they come in the program and after they got in the program. I've never met many officers that didn't want to write a book at some time. And I took the intelligent route in the beginning when I was in Dixfield. You know, I thought maybe I was there to write a book. To expose this thing to society. And how sick can you get? And then I began to wonder really what I was doing there. And one night the answer came to me. It was the wrong answer, but it came. I was around a bunch of men. They were playing poker with matchsticks. And I heard them discussing this problem. The reason they were there. I heard one man say, I'm here because my wife put me here. And I took the wrong reason. I said, well, I'm here because my mother put me here. And then I heard the face. This person I speak of is the face. I don't know whether this man's alive today. Whether he's in AA or whether he's in Dixfield. But this man says, I'm here because I'm an alcoholic. I'm here because I'm an alcoholic. And my God, when I heard that word, I resisted the word with the very word itself. Because the only thing that I could understand about alcoholics or drunk was my death. And I began to play a game that was to plague me until the day I got to Alcoholics and Arms. Maybe after I got there, yeah. Comparing my drinking to the alcoholics. Comparing my drinking with my father's drinking. And it damn near killed me. And if the truth was really known, my father was a much better man in his drinking and in society. And I could hope to be. Because my father never got kicked out of his profession on account of his drinking. He lost the family. He didn't have to go to hospitals on account of his drinking. He didn't ever have to go to the insane asylum on account of his drinking. And he never had to be put on a chain gang on account of his drinking. A game that was to plague you for many years. Well, the day came that I had to leave Dixfield and I left. And the only place I had to go was back to my mother. Here's a man with a college education. He was a young man. He was a young man. He had a college education. He'd go back to your hometown. You know, you don't go back to hometown at this age unless it's a special occasion. And here I am walking in and walking the streets. People get into one and they ask you questions. What are you doing home? Hell, another nervous breakdown. They know what you're talking about when you say nervous breakdown. You don't tell them you've been to Dixfield. That's a no-no. Now, I don't know a great deal about Dixfield. I know an awful lot about campus, though. I mean, he took a year. He didn't do well. He came home. He knew how it was going to be and about "'I'd rather you knew I'm here than knowing something bad is going to happen at a different place". So I just saw A-L-I-V. That was advanced democracy at Dix. See? That was impressive. What a start of the community. 對不對 I didn't even think about taking a drink. As I was driving up with my escort this morning, a thought occurred to me about stoplights. I didn't have any problems with stoplights when I was taking passers. All colors looked the same to me. And you know, flow, it's smooth. Everything was loose and smooth. And I was walking on the air. And then one night I was around a bunch of fellows that I'd been in school with. They were passing the bottle. I decided I'd take one drink. And I took this one drink. And then what happened to me is the thing I said never happened to me. I had to go back to Dixie Hill because I took another drink and I couldn't stop. And I went back to Dixie Hill again. A place I said I'd never go again as long as I lived there. Now make a long story short, I went back to Dixie Hill five times in six months on account of one thing. One fact, as I know it today. I've become an alcoholic although I didn't know it. Because I've gotten to the point in my life where I take one drink and I can no longer guarantee you my behavior. The last time I went back to Dixie Hill, I went back in an ambulance. I tried drinking wine on top of antivirus. And it don't work. And this time I woke up in the nut part of the both house instead of the whiskey part. And there is a distinct difference in case you're interested. And this is the time I found out about being strapped down to a bed. And I found out how you live better electrically this time too. Something I never experienced before. I can look back at those moments and I remember those shots pretty much very well. And I can also look back and remember the day that I accepted my fate that I probably just lived there. And I die there as a victim because I begin to associate with the people around me. And these people that I was around didn't have an alcoholic problem. They had mental problems. And this is the way I was. We do a strange word in alcoholics, and I almost will have mentioned it the other night. This word is called co-incidence. Co-incidence began to happen to me when I was in Dixie Hill. Because I'd been in this nut ward for about three weeks. And by some strange coincidence they moved me back over to the Rummy ward. And I was with these fellows again. And then one day, well I'd been there so much I was more or less an honorary attendant. And one day going to get the mail I just decided I'd leave. Well I don't want to sound dramatic, but we escaped. Well we ran like hell is what we did. Two other fellows and myself. And that night we were drunk and writhing. We got kicked out of two hotels in two days. A few days later I was able to take advantage of one of my mother's friends by getting money. Stayed drunk about a week in Raleigh. And then I ran into the same man again about a week later. And he finally had to put me on a bus to send me home. I went back to my mother's home again. She was off in the hospital at the basement with a nervous breakdown. Broke into her home, stayed out the three or two weeks before we brought her home and found me. And when they found me they got together. And when they get together you've got to watch out for something's going to happen to you. And they are those people that get in that other room when you're in the other room. And they begin to talk about how much they love you. And as the brother-in-law's in the room he begins to talk about how sorry you are. And they love you but they want to do something with you. They want to get you off their back. And as a result of this conversation when they called me in for the verdict was that they gave me a warrant. They gave me a warrant of money and told me to leave that part of the country. And wish me luck. They gave me a warrant of money and at that time I could have gone a long ways. Rather than the west coast and live somewhere for a while. But now I know I'm an alcoholic because I went four miles to a neighboring town. Pulling gold, broken down hotels which I later called my paradise. And began to drink again. And later that period of time when the money ran out I began to revert back to the same things I always done when I needed money. To write checks. I'd do anything to get money. So I skipped over to my hometown one day in order to get hold of some money. I bought me an outboard motor. I didn't have a boat but I bought a motor. You know you do these things. They called my mother to tell me. To let her know that my motor was ready. And she began to please me and put it together. Sure enough John Laurel came to see me that afternoon and took me out of this paradise. Back into that local jail. Three blocks from my mother's home. I'd been there many times by now. And I don't know, my hometown seemed like to me that everybody they brought in there every night was going to the next one and accept me. I began to raise a lot of heads. Wondering what I was doing there. I had some questions and wanted to see my attorney. And the judge finally asked me one night. He said, who the hell is your attorney? And I told him. He says, talk to him all you want to. He's in the next cell block. And sure enough he was. But this program does work. Because that same man who was my attorney, who was an alcoholic and is still an alcoholic, is a member of our state legislature in my home state. And is a good number of alcoholic fellows. Who work for him then. But the day came that they had to carry me upstairs. And I had to stand trial in the court of law. For something I didn't know I'd done on a previous drunk. And you'll have to get this thing. The city clerk was my sister. And when they called my name, she didn't seem to know who I was. The city solicitor was my mother's next door neighbor. And he didn't seem to know who I was either. And they got through with me. And said some words. And I got out and down in that cell again. And then the next morning they transported me to another courthouse. Where again I was tried for something I didn't know I'd done on a previous drunk. And to make a long story short, there's a lot of people here. Know a great deal about the great deal of swamp crime. And I'm ashamed of it. But if it took this for me to get the alcoholic synonymous, I'm very grateful. And in my case, I think it did take this for me. Like David said last night, you don't have to go to jail to become a member of the alcoholic synonymous. You don't have to do the things that I did to become a member of the alcoholic synonymous. I know a lot of people that recognize they have a problem. And they put the cork in the bottle. And they come on in and they take the mighty good of you. But I was different. I had to take me down to my knees. And this was just the beginning. So I went down to where I was supposed to go. On a chain gang. Never knowing that all those bottles I threw in those ditches years ago that I was going to have to come back and pick them up. And that's what I had to do. And I adjusted to this environment. The day came that I had to leave. I didn't want to leave. I was full of shame. And nobody in my family had anything to do with it by now. But what do you do? And you do what I did. I went back to the only place I had to go, back to my mother's home. And my mother was afraid of me by now because I tried to take her life on my last donkey and nothing about it. But this kept on coming. I let her come through the back door. She was scared. I let her come through the back door that day. She stood on the back porch. And I said to her, that afternoon they got together and they got to arguing about me. I heard my mother say, that's my boy. And he said, here's what you like and I'm not. And that was at the time that I, I don't recommend this before A or after A. I made a vow. I didn't know what sobriety was. But I made a vow that I wouldn't drink anymore for her. I just wouldn't drink anymore for her. And I was able to do this for a few months. A few months. And so they began to love me. They began to give me material things. Trying to suggest that maybe I should go to work. I hadn't worked in a long, long time. And I didn't think I could get a job in the state of North Carolina at that time. So through an agency up in Richmond I was interviewed for several jobs. One of them wasn't too many miles. Not too many miles from here. Not this mother carried me to this place. I appeared over one week to be interviewed. On a particular Thursday afternoon, we wound up in Ron, Virginia. And a man began to talk to me about going to the Popsville team and coaching me. He found out about me all in a period of about five minutes on the telephone. He says, I understand you had a problem with drinking at one time. That you're a cured man. I said, yes sir. I'm cured. He says, we're good. We want you to go to work next week. I had to go back home. Come back to Roanoke. The following Saturday. And I had a new station in life that I could begin again in spite of where I'd been. In spite of my past. And on the way back to Roanoke on the Greyhound bus, I had seen buses down in Virginia. And it's all occurred to me that I have one drink. Just one drink. And I've always been amazed by the abilities that I've had. I like to multiply and divide and divide. I'm going to have one drink, but I buy two pints. And I guess I was going to have a party on the bus, give everybody a drink, you know. But I bought two pints for my friends, whoever who there were up there. One drink, but you buy two pints. And this was the beginning of my last drunk. The only drunk that I really so like to talk about. Because a period, in a period of 24 days, I was in a state of shock. I was in a state of shock. I was in a state of shock. I was in a state of shock. I was in a state of shock. I was in a state of shock. And I was very cope with getting a drink. I was in a state of shock. My state of shock was with a full swing of my towards a mthrough brake. Now, I was off. I was off on a work trip. A week, five days, I Parker Think. I worked in thektebutons nutcrackerpar inhale Ψ§Ω„Ω„ic. I got this哇, this whoどう uma, this wine thing and the thing I've been LancesΔ±n marjorie There in the market. In there house. I was a young boy, ten-hundred on the streets. My mother, midway this drum, got in touch with me on the telephone before I got kicked out of the big hotel. And my mother gave me the greatest gift she's ever given me since the day I was born. And that's when she kicked me out of a locker. And she meant it. She wished me luck. On Sunday morning, September the 11th, twenty years ago, this silver drum was in a back alley on Margaret and Ronald's Virginia, trying to get a drink of liquor down. And the thought occurred to me that I would die on that back alley. And I didn't want to die. I did not want to die on that back alley. And for a moment of time, I didn't take that drink. And lo and behold, I cried out to God. I knew nothing about it. Nobody pleased me. Just somebody pleased me. And it's strange. We cannot see ourselves as we really are. Until we've heard so much and so long. And God, I wanted to do something that morning. I didn't know what. I thought I was a leper. That's right over there. When I finally realized that I was dying from what I was doing to him, and I didn't know what the coincidence, the only man that knew me in that entire city by my full name was the superintendent of the city school in Ronald. And that man had been looking for me for two days. And he found me that morning. And he came to that back alley and wanted to help me. He didn't know how to help me. He took me to his home and he called a friend, if you remember, of alcoholic dynamics. And a period of hours, I wound up at the place then that was called the Old Easy Desert Club in downtown Ronald. And that's Sunday afternoon. And they took me up those steps. And God, I won't ever forget that day. I wasn't drunk. I'd gotten to the point where, you know, it was like a sponge. I couldn't find that oblivion anymore. And I really didn't want to drink anymore. But I thought I had to to live. And they literally carried me up those steps. And I began to look around when they got me up there. And they began to talk. There was a bunch standing over to one side. And we say we don't look them over, but they sure as hell looked me over. And he said to me, And while you were looking me over, there was an old gentleman sitting in the right-hand corner. I never stood behind one of these podiums talking that I don't mention this old man's name. Now, I came to the A.A. when I was 29. And we hear a lot now about the old alcoholic, the young alcoholic, the in-between alcoholic, this kind of alcoholic, and that alcoholic. Tell an alcoholic is an alcoholic as far as I'm concerned. And this old man is the man that rang my bell because he gave me my magic words of alcoholics and honors. I think all of us have them. Sometime along the way, we hear somebody that says something that rings the bell. And as he was looking me over, this old man put his arm around me. And he says, Son, let me tell you one thing. He says, All you've got to do is do what they tell you to do. You never have to be alone anymore. By God, I knew what he was talking about when he said, You never have to be alone anymore. This old man sang with John Phillip. John Phillip, I'm the alcoholic's anonymous, when he was 76 years of age. And he died at 82 with six continuous years of sobriety. And that was the man that I identified with. And I came to the program the first time. Well, I began to shake a little. Because things weren't getting any better. And I asked somebody for a drink. And they explained to me, We don't do it that way. If you get so bad, we're going to get you a doctor. And I asked for some tablets. And hell, I thought I'd started a revolution when I asked for a tablet. I said, That's a no-no. No tablets. The drink doesn't cost it. I'm like my good friend, Jotty, you know. Now, this is no reflection on the coffee committee, but they said, Drink that coffee. And I'll never forget it. I've always contended and still contend there's a hell of a lot of people in the alcoholics' anonymous baking coffee that ain't got no business baking it. And this was one of those days. They said, Drink that coffee. And you know, it was like rope. Just like rope. And so, uh, I drank that coffee. And I got better. And that night, you carried me to my first meeting. And I don't know what happened then. I remember some of it. I remember one of the young guys that won it. But I remember the most important thing. Is when that meeting was over, a total stranger walked up to me and said, We love you and we understand you. We love you and we understand you. And you think about that. That's really all we've got to do to offer anybody when they come to this program. We love you and we understand you. You didn't get that when you walked in the program. You were short-changed. We love you and we understand you. And that night, when time came to leave that meeting, you begin to wonder, What does he do? What do I do after this meeting? What do I do now? You tell me not to drink. What do you do? They told me what to do. You go swing in with them. And they got me on in a wine chair. And they served me all night. And I was sitting there. And I was talking to them. I said, You know, I'm not going to drink again. I'm not going to drink again. I'm going to drink again. I'm going to drink again. And they stood there with me all night long talking to me. Many people have asked me, How did you get sober? I got sober one minute at a time. About 3 men telling me. They said, I didn't have to take another drink. After about 10 minutes they told me, about a minute had opened when I made my hour. I just went on all night long. When the sun came up, the whole floor. The whole floor says, Dave, the Sun's coming up. He meant so many hours have been without a drink. And we in Alcoholics Anonymous say this, that we do it one day at a time. Maybe you can make this day the first time in your life. And I wanted to make that day. Then they carried me back down to Doherty. The day they fled, I was introduced to a man who had become my first partner. A man who had that unique ability to talk to me on my level of understanding. He told me all about the program of Alcoholics Anonymous and what it offered me. He's like a concerted turn. A few days later, I moved into a boarding house at the 6th of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was a debt producer. And I was having a job. I don't know where the money came from for my first six months. It may have been eight. But it came from somewhere. Somebody paid the rent. Somebody bought the food. And those six men gave me much. I helped very true. I want to kind of go into that for training later. When I'm head there, you can survive. True, I was on the stalls right today. True, I'm a token member of Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm thinking. And things got a little bit better. I got dry. But long before I was in contact with the one who had become my second wife, just as a gift from God, she was somebody new. And Sue sent through my first wife did. Sue's never seen me drink or seen me drunk, but she's seen me try to grow up. My employment problem was solved by her. I've always said it. I've learned much more from people with less education than I am in Alcoholics Anonymous. One night, the group was just, not the whole group, but a few of them, I just kept in mind, was talking problems. No way, actually, I had a very good education. It was a science I know. It took, it seems to me, that if you studied engineering in college, that's what you ought to be doing in life. And, you know, when you think about it, it wasn't the help nobody ever told me. Nobody ever told me to, like that. Nobody ever explained to me that way. And it made sense. And so I thought it over its advice. And I went back into my engineering profession. Been in it ever since. I worked for Virginia Highways. I got dry. Things began to get better. And I got to be a voice in the group. After I got a job, had a little green on my hip. And finally let me do a few things. It wasn't long before I would have thought that I was more or less the backbone of the group. After about a year. And they finally let me talk. I never, you know, sitting down, I can ask you to sit down many, many times on the podium when I was talking, when I was describing that. The first talk I ever gave was, I thought, I'm not the slip. I know it. I'm heard of. But I gave one. At least I started. And I'd been going on about 10 or 15 minutes. And I heard somebody say, sit down. And, you know, we don't hear those things. Although we do. And I kept on going. And the first thing I know, he said, sit down. And I just kept on going. And by God, he came to the podium. And took me by the hand. Or by the arm. And carried me to my seat. And at that time, I sat on the back row. That's where all the old-timers sat. They called it Humility Row. And I sat down with him. And really and truly, my thoughts that day, well, maybe I got a little bit too much power for him. And he don't want me to overdo it. And as I sang, I sat down and after the meeting, some of the old-timers came up to me. God bless them. God bless the old-timers. Because they saved my life. Many, many times. One of them said, Dave, you know, these old-timers, when they talk to you, in the beginning, it sounds like a problem. But when you really think about it, it ain't that at all. And he says, at the rate you're going, you're going to be the next governor of the state of Virginia. And really and truly, I really believed it that night. Maybe, maybe I would. Oh, I never want to forget my first year. I never want to forget this sight. I never want to forget the battles that I had in my first year of alcoholic dynamics. I don't want to forget the state fever. Thank God for the state headache, but yet I was fortunate. I had some people around me that not only had the responsibility to help me, but they had the guts to tell me what I needed to hear instead of what I wanted to hear. And I got into an environment, and I survived around a bunch of people in the day that were going to meet sporadically. A bunch that had a kind of a little program on the side. And I began to listen to them a little. And they were the people who told me to take what you want and throw the rest away. And I downhill went. I ran away with all of them. But these old-timers, they called me in one day, my sponsor put them on, and set me down at the table and told me that the facts were staying sober. I'd been sober a one year and a half. And they had the audacity to sit down and tell me, unless I started doing something about the 12 steps of the program of alcoholic dynamics, to get honest with myself that I was going to get drunk. Now this was a hell of a thing to tell the backbone of the group that I was going to get drunk. And it was all about this time. I'd gotten to the point that I was talking quite a bit, and I'd gotten to the point that I'd go 300 miles to make a call. But I couldn't go one block down to my home group and listen to anybody else. I thought, when you get like this, you're sick. And you better do something, you better do something quick. And they saw this happen to me. And God, I got mad. I tore out of that room, went back to that boarding house, shut the door. And I wanted to get back at them. I didn't want to get drunk. I didn't even think about taking a drink. But they said, you want a third of it? And I decided what I'd do, I'd just send them a written resignation. I'd just resign from alcoholic dynamics. But as I walked out of that door, I'd heard an expression from my sponsor who asked me one thing. He says, Dave, I want to ask you one question before you leave. He says, when was the last time you thanked God for the inspiration? When was the last time you thanked God for the inspiration? When was the last time you thanked God for the inspiration? And I got in that room that day, and it was like a echo. It just kept ringing and ringing and ringing. And I asked myself that same question. When was the last time, Dave? It's been a long, long time. And I was able to get on my knees and pray to that God that I knew nothing about religion. God to me then was a question mark in the sky. Maybe yes, maybe no. But there is a result of this. You and I are proud. I was able to walk into a bathroom and look in a mirror at myself for the first time in my life and know what I really was. And I said, you and I have survived. That I was born into the world, and someday our lives are going to be forgotten. And the only way that I have to live, and the only way that I have to stay sober, was through alcoholic monogamy. I had to eat a lot of crow, I had to swallow a lot of self-pride. I went back to my home group the next night. I became a member of the clique. And if you want to know what the clique is, you go to the meeting area and see who does the work. Who sits and makes the coffee, sets up the tables, and cleans up afterwards. I became a member of the clique. And I'm still a member of the clique. And then tonight I rejoin Alcoholics Anonymous. I rejoin Alcoholics Anonymous after a year and a half. And I've been rejoining ever since then. And I'm going to rejoin again Tuesday night when I get back to my home group. I rejoin every Thursday because it works for me. And so things got better. And lo and behold, after about two years of sobriety, I finally decided, well, I'm going to get married. Sue and I wanted to get married. So I had to move back to North Carolina in order to get a divorce. My sponsor made some arrangements for a man to take me over when I got down to Raleigh. And he made some mighty good arrangements. And I didn't want to leave, Ron Oak. You know, the old group is the only group in the world as far as you're concerned. And you don't want to leave. But I went to Raleigh. My second sponsor was a man that was one of the first 100 now for Holly's Anonymous. The name is George. His name was Tom Perretta. Some of you know him. This man gave me a lot of strength. He was the man that got me into service work. And this was literally the man that ran the big book down my throat. Because after I got to Raleigh, you know, I used to ask people questions to let them know how smart I was. And I asked Tom questions. He said, read the book. Read the book and then we'll talk. And I read that book. And I said, well, I'm going to get married. And he says, tell me that book. And he said, ask me questions about the book. And I said, I don't know the answer to that. And Tom says, don't ever get away from that book. I can remember telling him. He says, the day comes that you can't carry your sponsor with you everywhere you go and you can't carry your group with you everywhere you go. But you can carry that book. Carry it in your heart. Because you're surprised there's not the ten of the abundant people about you. It's dependent upon the people, it's dependent upon the God that you understand your relationship with Him. And the only way for you to know this is to use that book. That's where you're going to have to find God. I know what he's talking about. He gave me a lesson. He gave me a lesson about talking behind one of these boathomes. I'll never forget it. I've been sober five years. I've been going to a few of these conventions, hear these speakers, watch them give their applause, seeing people patting on their back, kissing and hugging. You know, I began to think, well, that looks good. I believe I can do a little of that. And that old ego began to turn around, and one night I told Tom I want to talk to him after the meeting. And he was one of these fellows that always made you sit down. He stood up and looked down at you. And he said, What's the problem? And I said, Tom, I think I'm a convention speaker. Well, I can't repeat what he said in verbatim. But the understanding I had from him that night, he lasted for quite a while. As a matter of fact, a board forum was put on my speaking in my home group computer for years. That's the truth. I've been sober eight years, and one night he called me in too to come over to his house. He said, Sit down. I said, I am. And he stood up. And he says, You're going down to Columbia, South Carolina, to talk at the state convention. Before you go, there's something I want to tell you. He told me what to do and how to do it and what to do. He said, Before you go, there's one important thing I want to tell you. He says, They asked me to go first. You're going as a damn substitute. Don't you ever forget it as long as you live. And I don't know. Somehow or another, it just happened. And I said, I'm going to go first. And he said, I'm going to go first. And I said, I'm going to go first. And he said, Still, both theΨ£he and I are going to be the deserters of that building of theζœ› Monastery Nakers He just said, where is the building that you fried in July that night. He says, It looks like for us to walk through those walls. I said, What about the hallway there in the middle of the sozusagen history. He said, Because that was the school and the school building. And I say, That was the importance of the access of the Χ”Χ’ießenところ. It was comfortable for him. I said, Well, what do you want to do? He stillck me there. I said I wanted to stay a little longer and not have to pretend I wasn't there anymore. And he said, Yeah, but he can't but the new term it sets me. So I was along with him so that he would tell me group, trying to do a little service. Spent a good life. A very good life. Took a long time for me and my mother to get back together. She wouldn't see me until I'd been three years sober. And then she didn't believe it. And then when she found out I'd done it for a bunch of strangers, she couldn't understand this, and she didn't want to have a damn thing to do with it. And she wouldn't. She came to the point where we couldn't be in the same room. There was no communication, just none whatsoever. Just none. I'd been here about nine and a half years. Until one day I had to go down to my hometown, one of these big meetings, and I'd talk and I'd ask her to come. And she'd say she wouldn't come. And she didn't. But some old ladies could come. And I did. And even when I was a little bored, I decided I didn't come to the meeting. Just out of curiosity. And God does work in mysterious ways. And after that meeting was over, these old ladies went back to my mother, and visited her that afternoon. Begin to tell her about Alcoholics Anonymous and all the other things they didn't know much about it. And to tell her what I was trying to do with my life. And I'd been in the program nine and a half years. And I'll tell you, when I got back to Robert, the phone rang about nine o'clock. It was my mother. And I said, I'm going to go to the hospital. And she asked me to put you up there for what she'd done to me in my surprise. Today she's the greatest friend of Alcoholics Anonymous has. And she thinks this thing is great. Thank God she's seen me benefit from this surprise. Now, too long ago she was in the hospital. I had to visit her quite a bit. She's learned a lot. She's learned a lot of the part about me. Somehow or another. But she made the remark that I had this ten years of her life within the last ten years. She and me have broken a lot of knowledge. And I've been sober for a few twenty-four hours. I've received a lot of benefits, as I said in the beginning. But in spite of all these things, there are certain things that I still have to do. And I guess the first thing that I still have to do is continue to have a monumental desire to stay sober. Remember when I came here, I told you that I was willing to go to any length to get this program. Willing to go to any length to get this program. And sometimes now I still have to remind myself of this vow. Sometimes it comes about about two or three o'clock in the morning when the phone rings. And a guy begins to talk to me and says he needs some help. And I begin to think, well, maybe he can wait there after breakfast. And thank God, the thought comes every damn time. Those three men didn't say, we'll come back to you after breakfast. No, no. He's willing to go any length to get this program. The second thing I have to do is I have to build a means of outpouring synonymous. Strange as it may seem, that's where it all is. And these conventions, these sessions, these retreats are wonderful things. Don't get me wrong, that's icing on the cake. But if this is where you get your A.A., as far as I'm concerned, you better go back home and inventory your group. Because that's where you better be getting it. That group, the most important thing you have, whether you know it or not, is the love of your home group. That's one place you can go when you can't go nowhere else. Because they know what makes you king. They know what makes you king. And the greatest lesson that I've ever learned from my home group is I have to walk like I talk. Because they know what I am. They know what I am. The way I want to go. And it's the little people in the group, not the big people, the little people. And there's a lot of them in my group. And God will love every one of them. There's a couple in my group called Vernon and Gertrude. Some of you know them. And the other man and wife, really, Vernon should have been in Sova thirty years. And his father was one of the older members of the alcoholic numbers in North Carolina. Vernon went to the first convention in the state of North Carolina as a kid with his daddy. And he later came to the program. He married Gertrude. And Gertrude now has about six years of surviving. Vernon has been. Several years ago, one Christmas, I was in the church. It was a Christmas Eve night. We were having a step meeting. They let me in the evening. It was only eight steps. And there wasn't many people there since it was Christmas Eve. We just got to the family gathering. We just talked for a while. We got in the car and I was driving. And Gertrude turned to Vernon and said, Vernon, when are you going to make some amends to me? Just as serious as you could be. And old Vernon turned around and said, Hell, Gertrude, you're not even on my list. Been married two or six years. These are the people that I appreciate. The little people. The little people. And the third thing I have to do is I have to try to work these twelve steps to the best of my ability one day at a time. I've come to know that your sobriety and my sobriety, whether you like it or whether you don't, the success you have in your sobriety is based on one thing. And that's the application of the twelve steps of the Bible. The application of the twelve steps of the Alphaholic Synonymous. And I don't understand it either. But the first one hundred told us this. And there are several thousand that keep telling us this. And some of us still don't want to listen. But the twelve steps is what keeps us sober. That's what it's all about. Because I've come to know through a line in this book that says, We are granted a daily reprieve with contentment upon the maintenance of our spiritual contentment. And through this I've come to know that these twelve steps, my relationship with my higher powers has been mighty profound since I found these twelve steps. I've come to know who God is. What he is. I've become to be able to see God through you. Because when I got here I didn't know anything about love or another person. I always thought love had a price tag hung on it. I noticed it over and over again. And the way I was raised, this is the way I thought. And this love that was offered to me in alcoholic amounts from the beginning, I didn't want any part of it. I resisted. I resisted very much. Maybe some of you the same way. Maybe there's some of you the same way. But if you hang around, and you just respond to the Lord, and keep listening, and keep believing and having that faith that it will get better, you too will learn how to love a fellow man. I have to. And as I can, I believe anybody can. These twelve steps, the program of alcoholic amounts. And the fourth thing I have to do, all of you know what I'm talking about. Some days I just have to hang on and do the best I can. There are days like that. There are days like that. Tom told me many years ago, he said, there's nothing so bad that it won't get better. You just hang on. Try to work this program, do the best you can. It's going to get better. So just hang on. It's going to get better. And somehow or another, as I stand here this morning, and all these four things, it seems like to me that yesterday is my experience, tomorrow is my hope. And today is going from one to the other and doing the best I can. And as long as I walk hand in hand with you, down this happy road of destiny we speak of in alcoholic phenomena, I too will be allowed to privilege this wonderful thing called sobriety one day at a time. As long as I can follow the direction of the hand. As long as I can follow the direction of the hand. I heard a man say many years ago, someone, that when Jesus Christ walked the face of the earth, and the body of the man, he didn't say, I'm a truthful man. He said, I am the truth. I happen to believe that the core and guts of this whole program is the truth. Or more briefly, you've got to be honest with yourself. You've got to be honest with yourself. I don't care how sick you are, how broke you are, or where you come from, or how much you've got. If you have the ability to be honest with yourself, this unknown power, there's so many of them, that at some time when I was stationed in life, is willing to help you and I, if we're willing to help ourselves. A lot of my friends, when I first came in, called me the man of the stage. I choose between God and God, the God of my understanding. The God that I found right here in Alpha Holly, for nothing. God's the Father of all mankind. That God that's been doing for you and I, that's what we cannot do for ourselves. The light, the truth. I've enjoyed being in this region. And if I ever say anything about my life, or your life, or maybe yours, I'm going to believe that all others can stand up this line, as we go our separate ways, and say to each one of us, within our own selves, because I feel this way, that the greatest thing that has ever happened to you, and I, is Alpha Holly Phenomenons. And the longer you and I stay sober, the greater it becomes. Thank you very much.

Discussion

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