Turning Terminal Illness into an Asset — Morris B.

The story's in the big book, the story of five-time loser wins, and without going any further, I'm going to let him come up and tell us about himself. Let's welcome Morris B. from Raleigh, North Carolina. Thank you. I'm Morris. I'm an alcoholic and an addict. Hi, Morris. Hi, everybody. I like Nashville. AA is alive and well in Nashville, I'll tell you. I get around a lot of cities. Some are more active than others. Well, I'm going to tell you what it was like and what happened and what it's like now in a general sort of way. In fact, I've cleaned up my story so much, sometimes I don't hardly recognize it. I leave out some of the gory stuff and read the book and hear a little more in the book. We know one thing. One thing for sure, we know Noah was an alcoholic, right? He had to have two of everything, all right? Okay. We also know from history that Columbus had to be an alcoholic because, hell, he didn't know where he was going when he left, didn't know where he was when he got there, didn't know where he'd been when he got back, and a woman paid for it. See? That's the beautiful part of that. The other day in Raleigh, last Sunday, I was at a meeting, and this guy said, he went to a bar and he said, he went to a meeting in a nudist colony, and he said, he sure got a new perspective on bottoms. And he said, he became aware of his shortcomings, too. And his wife said, no instant gratification here. Well, yeah, everything I know I've learned in this program. I've never had an original thought. And this thing saved my life and gave me a whole new way to live. I had a pretty rough life. And at 14, I was in a bar. At 44, I came into this program. And, you know, a measure of success. Dealing with success is harder than dealing with failure. And it seems like in my sobriety that I've gotten just what I needed just when I was barely able to handle it. And I really am careful today what I pray for, because, by golly, most of the things I've prayed for, I've gotten. I don't pray for things unless it's going to help somebody else. They tell me it's okay to pray for things. If it's going to benefit somebody else. I was born in North Carolina. And I don't know. In those years when I was born, if they'd have had these school psychologists and everything, they would have probably found something wrong with me early on, because I've never been right. You know? I never, you know, that's why I'm here, because I wasn't all there, you know? But my life was never dull. That's one thing about it. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Why? You know why? Because I was born in North Carolina. And, you know, I got burned out of homes. You know? And then it dawned on me about two and a half years ago that I was still doing some of that stuff, some of that dysfunctional stuff. But anyway, I'm here today, and I'm glad to be here. And at 16, the month I turned 16, I went in the Navy. And when I got out of boot camp, looking back now, I was an alcoholic at 16. I didn't know that for many years. But I was drinking alcoholically and acting like it as a young man. And I always wanted to be a Navy pilot, and I wound up getting in Navy flight school, but I goofed it up like everything else. Alcohol cost me every opportunity I ever had. But you know, if I've got to have a terminal illness, I'd rather have alcoholism, because this is one illness where you can take all your weaknesses, all your liabilities, and you can turn them into strengths and assets. I don't know any other terminal disease. And that's what's happened, and I see it happening to a lot of people. There's a program and there's a fellowship, see, and I need them both. I need people. I tried to be a hermit. I took early retirement a couple years ago and tried to be a hermit. And damn near went crazy. Got depressed. You know, felt trapped. And so I don't believe in retirement now, see. So I'm semi-retired. I just run around all over the country. And don't drink and go to meetings and pray like hell and have a lot of fun. You know, if you can't have fun out of life, what's the point in being here? You know, and I do have some control tonight over how much fun I have and learning how to play. Because by God, if I'm negative, I'm suicidal in the sense that I'm destructive. I can't have any happiness if I'm negative. I can't have any peace of mind or any serenity and no spontaneity. So. You know, it's not because I'm a good guy. I mean, I don't want to be the victim. And so I have to work hard at having fun. I've had a lot of fun here in Nashville. I like it. So it behooves me to stay positive. Think as if. Act as if. And it works. Some days are tough. But I know they'll all pass. And this nurturing self-cleansing. Incidentally, this is a self-cleansing fellowship. You know, if I get too dishonest. Too phony. You know, I'm going to be in trouble. So. I love AA. It's my family. It's my extended family. Anyway, I went in the Navy at 16. I was an alcoholic. I knew it. Later, but not then. Had a lot of trouble. General court marks. I was apprenticed to him three times in six years. And I finally did get under honorable conditions and got out in 47. And I had three marriages. Two children from the second one. And I'll tell you. More about that later. If I can think of it. I didn't see my two children for 24 years. And in 1975, I saw them. And they're doing fine. And that's something I may regret the rest of my life. I forfeited watching two children grow up and develop so I could drink and do my thing. That was part of my illness. I don't know how to undo that. The way I've tried to undo it is being in the treatment business about 18 years is that working with people, especially when I had the opportunity to work with people. I've been in the treatment business for about 18 years. Especially when I had the opportunity to work with people. I've been in the treatment business for about 18 years. I've had the opportunity to work with young people and families. Just to try to make up for what I didn't do to my own family. I've only got one story now. And part of it is I'm going to be talking about prisons and some stuff. And it's the only story I got. And the main reason that I like to show the contrast was I was a zero, folks. I was a social dropout. Dregs of society. Me and my own family didn't want anything. Nothing to do with me. And then I got in this program and wonderful things started happening. And I can't even believe it all myself. And they keep on happening. As long as my free will is in tune with God's will, I feel good. And boy, when I get out of tune, I hurt. But you know, I got the twos. All these twos we got around here. The slogans. The principles. You know, I look at the slogans as a handrail to the stairs or the steps. You know? And everything to me is in the now. All the power of life is in the moment. And the essence of my being is love. But I can't easily does it next week. And I can't let go and let God demar. I got to be in the present. And I have to work at that. And it makes it a lot easier. You know? Very little matters. Recently, I saw a minister who's in AA married two young people that only had a few months sober. And he didn't have a baby. And he didn't have a baby. And he didn't have a baby. And he didn't have a baby. And he didn't want to marry them. But they insisted. And I heard him tell them that two half-wits don't make a whole wit. But he married them. And then he's patting them on the back and said, Kids, remember one thing in your marriage. There are no big deals. And you know, I have latched onto that. And I keep, every now and then, I'll say, There are no big deals. Even when it seems like a big deal, I'll say, There are no big deals. And that's the way I find it. Shortly after I got out of the Navy, I was in trouble. You know, drinking heavy and in trouble. Instead of doing the things, you know, hindsight's always 20-20. I look back. Sure, I wish I'd have done things differently. But, you know, I was an alcoholic. And I might not have gotten to this program. So it took what it took. I don't understand hardly anything. And I don't know anything. It's a mighty fine feeling to realize you don't have to know anything, you know. And I went out there. I found out in the federal penitentiary. And it wasn't too bad. It was kind of like an extension of the military service. But that was my first beef. But then I left there and went to North Carolina and got in trouble. And boy, there's a difference. There's a hell of a difference in that chain gang and that federal penitentiary. It's two different schools, you know. It was pretty rough. And I found myself in that situation. And I, it's a hard thing to realize that you are a dropout from society. And people don't really want much to do with you. It was quite an awakening to have to find meaning in your suffering. I figured, well, if I'm going to be a loser, I'm going to be a good one. And I caused a lot of trouble, not only for myself, but for, I got in as much trouble almost inside as I did outside. I mean, it was rougher in those days, too. Times have changed. Anyway. In 54, I escaped from North Carolina and went on out to California and got knocked off. Went to Folsom Prison. Stayed in Folsom a little over two years. And because I had all these detainers, they let me out a little early. And I went on up to McNeil Island in Washington, another federal joint. And then North Carolina came and got me. All total, I did 12 years. 12 hectic years. When I got back to North Carolina, I was in the military. I was in North Carolina. They had built a place while I was gone to take all the screw-ups, management problems. You know, they got all kind of names for them, recidivists, recalcitrants. But this place was a pretty rough place, and it was next to a quarry, a rock hole. And you went in naked, and you came out naked, and you put on a jumpsuit inside. We didn't have anything. No reading material, nothing in there. That's where they gave us a couple of bags of stud smoking tobacco, and I rolled one. I didn't smoke until I was in my 30s. I've been smoking ever since. I rolled that stud and inhaled it and got dizzy. And I've been smoking ever since. I'd probably get addicted to ice water if it had anything in it. But that was a rough place, and I'm not going to go into too much gory stuff. But I was only in there four days, and I said, hell, I ain't going to break rock. And so four of us lined up and broke our legs. And they just took us up and gave us a tetanus and set our legs and took us back. Locked us up. So that didn't work. So the next thing that stumbled on, and it is pretty gory, was the lye. You know, you can take one little inhaler full of lye, and you can ride about four guys. And most of them were doing long sentences and in a lot of trouble. And it just spread the lye out on your skin wherever you wanted something. Take them off. And that would have been good to take off tattoos. I never thought about that. But you put it on there, and you wrap a cloth around it, and you wet it. And about five hours later, you've got a big black scab, and it eats through a few veins. It looks bad. It's not all that bad. But it looks bad. Eventually, you have to have a skin graft. And what we were doing, in essence, we were fighting the system. I wanted to cost them as much as I could cost them and tire up what I could and damage. And I wanted to do it. And I wanted to do it. And I wanted to do it. And I wanted to do it. And I wanted to do it. And I wanted to do it. And I wanted to do it. This is what I was doing. But I was still the victim. But anyway, I got out of that place. I did every day of my sentence. And I went home to a little town east of Raleigh, Dunn, and drinking heavy. And later on, got on speed heavy. But I was heading for serious trouble. And one of my brothers waited until I got good and drunk, and he put me on an airplane. And sent me to California to the other brother, who's an Episcopal priest. And he met me at the airport. I still believe to this day I helped drive him into alcoholism. Because four years later, he came in this program. And he's still in it. You know? I stayed ten days at their house and liked to drove them crazy. They took me into Los Angeles, and I was going to go to work. And in that period of my life, work was not my strong suit. I'll tell you. And, uh... I went to this employment agency. And... I went up on the seventh floor, and I fill out some papers and an application. And this lady says, uh... Mr. Barber, hang around. I want to talk to you. So I hung around until 4.30, and I went in and sat down. And she says, Now, what is this? And she's looking at my papers. She says, this thing's full of holes. I said, what do you mean? She says, you got a lot of self-employment down here. She said, you used to work for the United States Department of Justice. In what capacity? And I said, I'm out of it. And used to work for the Department of Prisons. That was before it was corrected. In North Carolina. But what did you do for them? I said, I worked for them. She said, in what capacity? And she says, now do you want to level with me? And so I leveled with her. She was in AA. I never met anybody in AA before. But boy, they can see right through you. You know? So she verified all my references. And got me a hell of a job. Making good money. This was 1960. The first year I was ever introduced to AA. It took me ten years to get into this program. But she introduced me after I stayed on a four-months drunk. And I couldn't kick it. So I know it's progressive because I couldn't get over that drunk. I couldn't stop drinking. Used to, I could eat raw eggs and suffer a few days and get ready to do it again. But that time, I couldn't cut it off and wound up in the hospital. Well, that's a different story. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital. Well, that was a promotion. Hospitals versus jails or prisons. The first time I ever admitted and knew I was an alcoholic and went into a meeting, I felt like I'd been promoted. A lot of people have trouble saying they're an alcoholic. Hell, it was a promotion for me. And the next year, I was promoted to AA. And I was in AA. I was in AA. that's the shape I was in. After I quit that job, I really got on a drunk, and I couldn't get sober again. And in those days, my thinking was so fouled up, I thought that, you know, you get on a drunk and use up the bartenders and people that you can con, and you rip everybody off and you leave town. Just change towns, you know? In the beginning, and I don't like to admit it, but in the beginning, I used AA. People tried to help me. They prayed over me. They prayed over me until I was thirsty. They tried everything, gave me 24-hour-a-day books, took me to meetings. I would leave a meeting, and I'd stop at the first bar. If the urge hit me, I never made any effort to stay sober. I never called anybody. And I went in and out of AA for five years. I never heard the word, surrender. It's a strange thing, but there was something there I wanted. The first meeting I went to, I don't remember what was said there, but I do know the sparkle in people's eyes, and they were laughing. It was on Wilshire Boulevard. And I wanted to go back to some more meetings. I'd go to meetings and get drunk. I went to meetings half-high. And I learned how to use AA. I really did. You know, I read the book so I could argue them in discussion meetings. You know? And got outside of the Arid Club in Phoenix, and I was shaking like a leaf. Because after I went to that first AA meeting, I'll swear my drinking scene, the alcohol seemed to affect me worse. Something happened. I don't know what it was. Maybe my guilt over knowing there might be help, and I wasn't willing to take it. They put me in a halfway house setting out there in Phoenix, and in three weeks, I was cured. I mastered the program. I had saved up about seven bottles of turpentine and a little bit of iodine and codeine. I had a few green hearts, and I still had a car and a little money. And so, it was a planned drunk. I took off to Tucson, down in the Mexican Nogales. And I kept putting gasoline in the car. I didn't put any oil in it because it blew up somewhere. I wound up in Arizona State Hospital. The car was in some little town down the line. I woke up sitting in the corner, pumped full of Thorazine. My legs felt paralyzed. I was in the hospital. I was hospitalized. And an AA meeting came into that hospital. And I ran into that AA meeting, and boy, it felt good. Because I could do my penance so quickly. And I could make promises to myself, but they weren't any good because the addiction was much stronger than my promises. But I got out of there, and I went to some meetings. I stayed straight at least two months. Two, two and a half months is the most I could ever get in those five years. I couldn't get any time. I never surrendered. I never surrendered. I never really tried to get this program. It's like my smoking today. I don't smoke as much as I used to, but I said, God, if you'll take the desire away, I'll quit. I ain't had a hell of a remark for somebody sober almost 20 years talking to God like that. I know what the hell I got to do to quit. Same thing I did to quit alcohol. I just don't want to. You know, I didn't come into the program to be a monk or a priest. And there ain't any danger of it. Believe me. You know, I just want to get a little better and be a better person. To me, that spirituality is to grow and become a better person, not hurt anybody. Every morning I get up in the morning, and honestly, I like a spiritual program, and I like being happy. And I say, God, fill me with gratitude and fill me with love, and just direct me through this day. And I've been doing that now, and it works. And most of the time, I feel good. Most of the time, I feel real good. When I have a bad day, I got the tools to do something about it. Anyway, after Phoenix, I had to get out of Arizona. I got in some trouble. And that was the second state I'd had to leave. I had to leave Louisiana when I went down to see my children back about 1950. And raised held, and the in-laws had me locked up. I says, well, you'll never see me again. They let me out of jail on the condition I'd leave the state, same way in Arizona. And I didn't see them for 24 years. And I'm still paying for that. Two or three o'clock in the morning, I pay for not being with those children and not seeing them grow up. And it's a regret that I don't know if that promise will ever come true, that I won't regret it, because I do. And I left Phoenix and went to Oakland, San Francisco. And I went to the state of Arizona. I went to San Francisco. I went into AA a month or two and drunk again, in and out, in and out. And in 1965, I resigned from AA. I didn't send in a letter or anything. I just threw all the books out the window. You know? Threw all my books out the window of this apartment. Because I used to stay in an apartment while I was drinking. I'd stay two or three, four months until the sink is full of dishes. And, you know, you spray Black Flag over it to keep the roaches down. You never wash them, you know. Roaches all... I'm talking about marijuana roaches. Plus, I had the other kind, too. But roaches and seeds and empty bottles. And my last good load of speed, some guy had knocked off a drugstore and I bought a whole brown bag full of white bennies. And they lasted me about a year. Helped me get crazier. You know, the alcohol does a job. That other stuff really does a job. I mean, you get squirrely as hell. You know? So... In Frisco, I got in some trouble. I was working for a record company. Records, cassettes, LPs, you know, tapes. Eight tritons in those days. And drinking and drugging. You could smell the marijuana. It was out in the plant. Had about 70 hippies working in there. And, of course, I joined right in them, you know. And I was the foreman. Oh, Lord. But this one truck driver said, I needed a set of tires. He brought me a set of tires. And then when I need a carton of Scotch tape or something, he'd always bring me anything I wanted. So one day he says, why don't we go into business together? He says, I deliver these records to you. You sign for half of them. I'll leave half of them on the truck. So over a period of time, we had a whole warehouse full of records. And... I make a contact over. At the bar I hang around with Eddie. Because he was probably belonged indirectly to the company. I'm talking about the mob. And he says, yeah, I know an outfit in Chicago will handle those things for you. We had classical instrumentals, rock and roll. We had all kind of records and tapes. And then I got a phone call at work. And Eddie says, hey, hey, I got to talk to you about something. I said, I'm going to go to Chicago. I'm going to go to Chicago. I'm going to go to Chicago. He says, hey, I got to talk to you. I got to talk to you. And so I got off and went down and talked to him. He says, that outfit that was going to take all these records, you working for them. They own the company you're working for. Well, I left San Francisco. I didn't mess around. In fact, I sold my share cheap to this Mexican guy that was my partner. You know? I don't know what happened to him. I don't know what happened to him. But I can remember coming back cross country. And I know once I stopped in Salt Lake City. And I woke up in the morning. I didn't have any pills. I didn't have any booze. And Salt Lake City is a Mormon town. It's kind of dry. But they did have some ABC stores. And I'm out in the morning. And I'm shaking like a leaf. And nobody's on the street much. And finally I saw a guy with a paper bag. And I said, hey, where'd you get it? He said, two blocks. He said, two blocks down there. And I go down there. And I can't see anything. There's a little small sign that said ABC. Well, I found the store. And I went in there. And you're supposed to select what you want and fill out a form. I couldn't fill out the form. I couldn't. I was shaking too bad. So the guy filled the form out for me. And I got a fifth. And do you know as soon as I got that fifth in my hand, I quit shaking? And I got out to the car and took a couple of good swigs. And then my next job was to find a contact or a doctor to get some speed. And I came on cross country. And I got to North Carolina. And the folks looked at me right strange. My family, they were a little frightened. And I went on down to Key West. And that was in 68. And I stayed drunk the whole winter down there into 69. 69 was the last year I drank. And I had to leave and get refinanced a couple times. But I stayed drunk all winter. And then came back up to North Carolina where my brother was in business. And robbed a department store up there. And boy, he was hot. He was mad. He was really mad. And during the robbery, a lady, I had to, there were three special forces guys in there. And they didn't want to behave. So I fired on the floor and they straightened up. And the bullet ricocheted and hit a woman in the derriere. And she sued everybody. Boy, she still sued everybody. Boy, she's still suing as far as I know. She sued. Well, I go into court and they gave me 15 to 20 years. And they nulled prostitution. So I get back up to Central Prison in Raleigh, my old alma mater. And it had been 10 years. And they let me work in the kitchen office. And part of my duty was to take inventory of the cold storage room, the foodstuffs, the oleo and eggs. And then go into the meat locker. And that's Saturday or Sunday in July of 70. And these guys I worked with that went to AA, a couple of them, wanted me to go. And I says, no, I don't, AA doesn't work for me. I tried it. Tried it for five years. It didn't work for me. And I don't want to hear about it. And you guys can quit leaving those brochures and cards lying all over the place. And, but in that cold storage room, somebody had bolted the center room door. Somebody had bolted the serenity prayer to the cold storage door. And I stopped in my tracks because I knew what that serenity prayer meant. And I remember the meetings of AA I went to. And they said if it hadn't happened yet, it will happen if you keep drinking. I went back to my cell and that serenity prayer, I couldn't get it out of my mind. God grant me the serenity. But the word accept was the big word. Accept the things you can't change. And that serenity prayer just kept going. And that serenity prayer just kept going over in my mind. And it was that night or the next night, the first chance, I went to the auditorium to the AA meeting. And I walked in there and Tom I, I don't know if he's ever talked over in this area or not, but he's a hell of a good guy. And Tom I was there and I remember saying, well, I went for five years to AA. It didn't work for me because I didn't take a fourth step. He said, my God, no wonder you didn't get sober. If that's all you know. You didn't take the first step. He said it wasn't the fourth step. If you don't take the first, you can't take the rest of it. If you don't identify an illness, you can't get any help for it. You can't treat it. So I started going to meetings. I got back into my program all over again. And about that time, there was some, a big grant, about a half a million dollars. They were going to train some ex-problem people. And I had been branded incorrigible from the days of the 50s. And there were eight of us that they put into schools. And I was the first. And they were going to train us to be power counselors and work in the correctional department. Well, I went through nine months of that school. It was good training. And only because I was in AA then and practicing the principles that I got through it. And then when we finished that school, they paroled all the other guys but me. I didn't have enough time in to be paroled. But they did call up and had me go before a committee. And they put me in minimum custody. They said, we're going to reluctantly put you in minimum custody. We hear you're in AA now. All those years and all those penitentiaries, nobody ever mentioned my alcoholism. Nobody. And all the testing. This committee did. They put me in minimum custody. And I went out to the minimum custody unit. And that's where I met my first sponsor, Big Gene. His name's mentioned in there. And Gene was the man for me. We didn't tell his wife about my record. Because he took me into his home. And he was the man I needed. Because he was right on target. And he was an old BS guy. He was right on there. And he's what I needed. And he took me to a lot of meetings. And incidentally, one Thursday night, it was the Big Book group. That was my first group. That's where I got my foundation in AA. Studying the Big Book and the steps. And at the Big Book group, this girl Gertrude said, Morris, how about chairing the meeting? I'd been over there about ten times. How about chairing the meeting tonight? And folks, when I got up to go up there at the head of the table, I felt ten feet tall. I was still a pretty, I felt like I had rejoined the human race. Because I'd been beating up on myself. I was a zero. I was a zero that dregs the society. And dangerous at times. And crazy. You know, it's hard to stand up here and say that stuff. But it's the truth. You know, if I'd have run into me, I'd know what I'd have done. You know. And I don't really know any reason I'm still here except to maybe carry the message. God delivers it. All I can do is carry it. You know. But I did. I felt like I had joined the human race. And I really got into my program. I think I had better spirituality then. I was living one day at a time. They went over after a few days. They finished that school. They went over to the governor to see if I could get paroled. And they checked down at Fedville where the robbery was. And they said, no, we don't want that man on the street. The law enforcement. We don't want that man on the street. And I can understand why. Two weeks later, I opened the mail and there's a commutation. They cut five years off the bottom of my sentence so I could be paroled. Governor Scott. And I went to work at Polk Youth Center. And I was only there about two, two and a half months when I got a call from mental health. I didn't even know what mental health was. And they said, how would you like to come to work at mental health? And I said, what's mental health? We want to start an alcoholism program. And in 72, what was an alcoholism program? I don't know what an alcoholism program was. So I talked to my sponsors and they told me what to do. Just cool it. Let it happen. And sure enough, the first of the year, I went to mental health. And I stayed there six and a half years. And I used to joke about it. You know, to work at mental health, you got to be a little crazy. You know. Well, you do. I mean, it helps. But you see, those people helped me. Obviously, I needed all the help I could get. I mean, the social workers and the psychologists, they helped me. I didn't know at the time how they were helping me. And I was going to a lot of AA. But I needed all the help I could get. Believe me. And after about six and a half years, I resigned and went into the private sector. And I went over to Charlotte. Now, I'll tell you a couple of things. And I'm not telling you to tell you how great I am. It's to show you the contrast between a zero and a person that gets productive and becomes a fairly good citizen, you know. So I wasn't at Charlotte long. And I was program director. And I stayed there about four years. And I learned a few things. And in 82, I just, for some ungodly reason, I don't know why. In fact, I'll tell you something tonight that people may have trouble with. But I'll swear I don't believe my life is any of my business. As older I get, the stupider I get, I don't know a damn thing. And I don't even know what I'm doing in Nashville. So when I wound up in Key West, I didn't know what I was doing in Key West. And it rained all that month of January 83. And so I went over to the Florida Keys Hospital. And I talked to the administrator. And I said, let's put this together. Let's put a chemical dependency program in here. I never had put a program in anywhere. We met with the hospital board. And in three days, they said, put it in. They didn't know me from Adam. And by God, I put it in. One of your local ladies out at Cumberland Heights, Bunny, I knew for about five years. And I realize it now, didn't realize it then, that I used to run away to the islands. I'd run away to Jamaica or St. Thomas or Nassau or Costa Rica. And it was an excuse to get away. I'd say, I'm burned out. I need a vacation. Well, I've just about run out of islands. You know? I've been all down there. And it's all to no avail. You know? It was just running away. It was part of my old pattern. Anyway, I left Key West and came back up to Columbia, South Carolina and put in a program there. And then there was a search committee in North Carolina. And they called me in. And most of the guys there were NAA, the banker and the lawyer. And they said, we want to put a program in down here. We're going to build a building. And they handed me the blueprints. It changed what you want to change. We haven't even broken the ground yet. And I had the experience of watching that thing being built and then putting in the program and staffing it. And stayed three years. And I finally reached a point where I had accomplished what I thought I'd set out for. So I was going to take retirement. I don't even believe in retirement today. If you can walk, I don't believe in it. You better have something to retire to. I think everybody ought to try six months of it. Damn near drove me crazy. More crazy. But I resigned and took that early retirement. And I've learned a lot. Just since 87. You know, I never quit learning. I just keep learning an awful lot. And I was down there in a little private home. I was in a little private practice in Key West. The psychiatrist's wife I knew. And she and I were in private practice. But I only worked about one to two days a week. And I wasn't productive enough. So I guess that's what I'm doing in Nashville. I just got a little more productive. But it's fun doing what I have to do. So that's just a general overview of my story. Now I'm going to tell you what I've learned in AA. A couple of things here. My sobriety is a gift. I didn't deserve it. Didn't even want it. It was a gift. And thank God you can't sink too low for this program. You know, I didn't think I was worth anything. And I wasn't. And the things that this program has brought to me and given me. Today I don't put any conditions on my sobriety. I do put conditions on other things. Life and relationships and work. And that's where all my trouble comes from. If I treated every other segment of my life like I treat my program. You see, there's no room for conditions in this program. I'm still a little phony and a little selfish and get angry sometimes. And a long way from being perfect. But I'm not as bad as I used to be. And I'm trying to get a little better. The reading, the study of the program and trying to work the steps. You know, I learned a long time ago you can store up a lot of data upstairs. A lot of information. But until you translate it into living, into behavior, it's just stored up data. And it'll get stored up data that'll get you drunk. You know, good intentions. They don't work. To me, there's a program and there's a fellowship. I told you earlier, I need them both. Now, when I was over there at mental health, the guy told me, he says, Morris, you know you're a survivor. You know you're a survivor. You know you are a severe character disorder. He says, and they don't usually get well. They're impossible to treat. And this psychiatrist says, so whatever that AAA thing is you going to, you better keep going. You just better keep going. You know? And I says, I didn't even know. You know, I was not a skilled person. I said, what do you mean I'm a character disorder? He says, well, you are. He says, character disorders blame. They put the blame on everybody. They blame God. They blame the system. They blame the family. He says, why don't you just become a good neurotic? And I says, well, what I got to do? You know? He said, he said, neurotics blame themselves. No matter what happens, you know, they blame themselves for everything that happens, you know. So, so I'm a character disorder that turned into a neurotic. I have a personality conditionята maintain it in a way to see to know who is looking at me and where I'm turning out. He said, you know, I think, you know. There was crisis and tragedy. That's when I grow. When things are going my way and everybody's doing what I want them to and everything's clicking, I don't grow any. I get complacent and I stagnate, you know. To me, love is action. And once I got on a search, a spiritual search, every now and then I'd go on a spiritual search. I don't know what I was searching for, you know. God ain't lost and spirituality is right here, you know. You know, it's like I was reading one day and I was meditating and praying and I was hurting. And I got angry at God. I don't know if any of y'all ever been angry at God. I don't know. I was seven or eight years sober. I got angry at God. And I said, buddy, I ain't going to ask you for your will today, not after yesterday, you know. And I kept thinking. And I kept thinking about that. And about an hour later, I just busted out laughing. I just busted out laughing. I said, you stupid bastards, you know. You're shaking your fist at God and every now and then you get mad at God. You know, I had to be 60 years old to find out there's nobody to blame in life. I need something to blame occasionally. There ain't nothing to blame, folks. You know, I am responsible for my behavior and my thoughts and my statements and my feelings. They're my responsibility. There's nobody to blame anymore. It only took me 60 years to realize that, you know. But most of all, what I realized was that God doesn't want my mouth. Well, he wants my meditations and prayer, but he wants more. Readings and he wants my will or it wants my will or whatever you believe in. I had a little hang up in the beginning on this God thing. I don't anymore. I don't care what anybody believes. You see, no is a complete sentence. I don't know. I just don't know. But I do know what works and I know what doesn't work. I had a sponsor that told me, he said, well, if you know what doesn't work, you got half the answer. Just quit doing that same. That's half the answer. But no, I keep doing the same. That's the insanity. I'm still being restored. It's taking a little while. I had three wives drinking. I haven't had one since I've been sober. And I don't know if I'm. You know. And every time I'd get close, I'd run like I'd sabotage it. And now I got glaucoma and blind in one eye and getting old. I need somebody to take care of me. So now I'm thinking seriously, you know, about, well, it's a selfish program, you know. And somebody told me, he says, there are no Easter's without Good Fridays. And you know, that's right. And I've had enough Good Fridays. I don't be crucified anymore. And I don't have to be. You know. This is a new life and a rebirth into this program. And God knows it's wonderful, folks. It's a good family. And I found out another thing since I've been sober. There are no villains and no heroes. Really and truly. There are no villains. It's all in between my ears where my bottom and everything else is, you know. It's up there. And this lady I used to work with, she used to have a thing on her desk that said, Lil, this ain't no dress rehearsal. And. And the more I think about that, that all the power of life is in the moment. And it behooves me to stay in the here and now. The slogans, everything is in the now in this program. They might have been written in the past tense. But I got to live them in the now. When I get negative, I get suicidal, as I told you before. I have to work at having fun. I have to work at staying positive. And when I'm positive, I have less pain. I have less pain. Humorous, humorous, enthusiastic people. They have more antibodies. They get less disease. They surely get less cancer. Everything I look at in life almost dictates that I stay positive. And there are no big deals. Boy, I can make big deals out of anything. I don't ever want to lose the ability to laugh. My mind at times was my worst enemy. It was like a terrorist. Because the thoughts that would enter in. I found out in this program, you can fantasize. You don't have to act on a fantasy. You can take a gun and you can cock it and aim it. You don't have to pull the trigger. Nobody ever told me that. I thought if you cocked it, you're supposed to pull the trigger. You're supposed to go try to make it come true. Or if you get in a relationship, you want this person to live up to your fantasies. Nobody can live up to my fantasies. That's the most unfair thing in the world, is to expect somebody to live up to your fantasies. Nobody can live up to my fantasies. That's the most unfair thing in the world, is to expect somebody to live up to your fantasies. Nobody can live up to my fantasies. That's the most unfair thing in the world, is to expect somebody to live up to your fantasies. A beautiful program that lets me begin again every day, or any time during the day. And when I'm negative and angry, and I want things to change, or mad at politics, or something on the news, it always comes back into me, if you would change the world, first change yourself. And that's what I've been trying to do. Let me see, what else I... Let me see, what else I... I was reading something, I forget where it was, a little brown book or what. It said, nothing is enough to the man for whom enough is too little. And you know, I don't know about the rest of you, but I know it's hard for me to be satisfied with anything. Down there in Key West, snorkeling, fishing. And after about six months, I'd get up in the morning, I'd say, during another beautiful day. What the hell? You see, if that ain't an alcoholic, I ain't never seen one, you know. Nothing's ever enough, you know. And when I get empty inside, and I have felt empty. Boy, I have felt that wind blowing through my gut. You hear Tom Brady talk about that sometimes. Yeah, you can fill that empty hole up temporarily with money and sex and running away, but it won't last. The only thing that's ever filled that hole up in my gut are spiritual values. A feeling that you're cured for. A friend of mine, John, up there at West Palm. We just had a big meeting, a big dinner up there in Raleigh. He says, hell, all these people still love you and they know you. That's a compliment, you know. If somebody knows you and still likes you, that's a... Because, you know, I didn't even like myself for many years. Time takes time. Now, first time I heard that, I didn't know what it meant. But, you know, some of these little truths I've learned in the 80s, they sound so profound. You know, like if you don't drink, you can't get drunk. You know, a two-year-old knows that. Time takes time. I never had heard it, you know. I don't know what the truth is. I know one or two truths. One of them is that I can't drink liquor and mess with drugs. But we all have one or two, three truths. And we get together in these meetings and we share our truths and then we get a bigger truth. That's how... That's how I've learned how to live a little bit and have some fun is sharing my truths and learning from your truths. Now, this is a very practical program for me. When I get angry, it cuts me off from God. I think the book says my despair is a measurement of my distance from God. Well, if I'm angry, I'm cut off. If I'm going 90 miles an hour, I'm cut off. If I don't have time to stop and smell the roses. So, it behooves me to be in the here and now and be positive if I want to have a conscious contact with my higher power. So, it's a very simple two. And I have control. Me and God got control today. God and myself. We have control of my life. There are probably two sins. I heard a lady say this years ago. The greatest sin in her book was to not live life to its fullest potential. And the second biggest sin was to be indifferent to your fellow man. You know, I never had thought of those. You know, I'd always thought of another set of sins, you know. Let me just inject something while I... No, I better not do that. You know, it's not fair to make jokes about Al-Anon. And I ain't going to do that. That's just not appropriate, you know. All right. I'll say, I'll preface it with this, though. Thank God for the enablers of the world. I always had one that nursed me back to health, got me out of jail, took up bad checks. Thank God for it. I mean, I probably wouldn't be here today. But there was this lady around one of the 12-step programs that had a... She died and she had that life-death experience. She saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Somebody else's life passed before her eyes. You know. The... So they tell me that this program, we have to walk a narrow path. Well, I have felt during my sobriety that to be spiritual and to be right, that you couldn't have any fun. You walk this narrow path. Yeah, the path is narrow. It's narrow. Uh... It's the razor's edge that Mom talks about. But, you know, with acceptance and faith and love, that path is not a razor's edge. It gives me room to bounce back and forth. You know. It was too restrictive until I tried to find out what love is. And to me, love is action. Chuck C. says, before he died, that these guys called him at 2 o'clock in the morning. They were arguing. What's love, Chuck? He said, it's the same damn thing in the morning at 10 o'clock as it is at 2 in the morning. And, uh... He said, then he said, love is action and hung up. And love is action. You know? Really. God is all or nothing. And if you're having trouble with spirituality or with God, if I want to feel good, and if getting on my knees and praying makes me feel good, I don't give a damn how many doubts I got or what I believe. If it makes me feel good, I'm stupid not to do it. I drank booze, it made me feel good. Before it liked to kill me. But, I believe as much as... There's somebody said a long time ago, Burke, I think, that there's probably more faith and honest doubt than all the religions of the world. If I'm human, I'm going to have an occasional doubt. It doesn't mean that I disbelieve. It's just part of my humanity. Stuff slips into my mind. But by golly, to me, this God that I believe in, and don't know much about, except intuitively, is either... Is either... All or nothing. There ain't no in-between. That's the way I look at it. And it makes me feel good. Like we say in the program, the song is over, but the malady lingers on, you know? God wants my will. In those days when I was acting out and crazy, I was arrogant, alienating people, hostile. And you know what I was? I was a hurt little boy that wanted to be loved, and I didn't know how to be loved. And I tell patients, this is in treatment centers sometimes when I talk to them. The ones that are acting out and hostile, they're the ones that need it the most. They don't know how to get it. I didn't know how to get it. And I was seeking love and doing all the wrong things to get it. Running people away from you. Turning people off. You know, Emmett Fox impressed me in Sermon on the Mount. You know, everything, what goes around comes around. That every smile I send off, every good deed is going to come back to me. So why wouldn't I be good to people and try to love people and send off good vibes? Well, because I'm a human being. I can't deny my humanity. But this program has opened my eyes up. It really has. It's opened my eyes. I don't know. They tell me when you run out of something to say, sit down. So I've run out of what I had to say, and I want to thank you all for letting me come. And I love all of you. I love AA folks. Bye-bye. Thank you.