We Were a Loving Home When Everybody Was Asleep — the Family Disease Nobody Explains to You – Ray M.

Thank you, Benny. I'm Ray Moss, and I'm an alcoholic. I'm glad to be here, and I want to thank Fred for the invitation to come and share this morning. Try to get this thing moving today. I've got... Y'all are in good form, and I tell you, last night was an exciting thing. I kept trying to get better at going up to the room so I could hook up with my friend here, but Frank beat me to it and Betty wouldn't leave. I came down here in a caravan from Kannapolis, North Carolina. There's 12 of us came down. I got a bunch of people that some of them, this is their first convention. It's the first time they've ever been in a roundup. And some of them are less than a year, and some of them are just over a year of sobriety. And I've had a wonderful time. They let me just be a part of their life. And, you know, these young people, under 30 and under 40 are crazy as hell. And they let me be crazy with them. And I'm almost 65, and I felt really good being with those folks. And I want to thank them. They're sitting up on the front row. I brought that many... I brought that many with me because I was afraid there wouldn't be anybody here at 9 o'clock this morning. We'd have a meeting together. First time I've ever looked out at the... in the conference. I was sitting in the congregation here, the audience, and saw Bob and Ruth sitting right there. My friends Bob and Ruth are always sitting over here at the tapers table. And Bob introduced me to tapes several years ago. And if you're not into that, you ought to get into it. Bob does a marvelous job with it. And if you don't see anything you want over there, he'll get you something that you can use. I listen to a lot of tapes, cutting grass and riding in the car. My wife previews them for me. I listen to a lot of tapes, cutting grass and riding in the car. And he's the first. He tells me what they're about. And then if I want to hear them, I pick them up and listen to them. Good to see you, Bob. Y'all buy you some tapes from this fella. Got some good ones. I got a tenth step to make this morning. Two ladies are here. I don't know who they are. They didn't have their name tags on, but so help me God. I got on the elevator, started up with them this morning. One of them said to the other, did you see Clancy? The other said, yeah, I did. He said, Clancy? I said,temps! He said, mornings. You know what I mean? My sobriety date is May 1, 1980, and my home group is the Kanathlis Group up in North Carolina. We're just a little bit above Charlotte, distance-wise, and we've got a great little town and some great meetings there. I have a responsibility this morning to share with you the story that I know, and I know it well. It's mine, and I can share it. But I want to talk a little bit about what my life was like and some of the things that happened to me because I drank alcohol and then some of the things that have been a part of my life since I've been in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Alcohol has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. My daddy, who got sober the last six years of his life, I asked him the question once, Dad, you think you were drunk? When I was conceived? And he said, yeah, I was drunk all the time. So alcohol has been a part of my life from the day of conception until today, and it still is. And if it were not for alcohol in my life and in your life, I wouldn't know the friends that I know today like sitting over here on my right. So alcohol has been a part of my whole life. I grew up in an alcoholic home. I need to tell you a little bit about that. That house that I lived in and that home that was there. I could have been Larry's brother. We kind of sounded like each other. He talked about his home last night. And I say to people that I grew up in a home that was a loving home when everybody was asleep. We just loved each other when we didn't know each other. My dad was the alcoholic. He drank. He drank alcoholically. All of my life and all the time I can remember. And my mother was crazy, literally insane from that disease of alcoholism. And she referred to him as the damned old drunk. And that's what he was in the days that I knew him as a kid. And my dad was a periodic drinker. He didn't drink every day. I don't understand people like that, but he didn't. And he might go. He might go two months. But he got, I know today, he would get restless and irritable and discontent. Mama just said he's mean as hell. Watch him. He's going to get drunk. And, you know, I knew that was going to happen. And I could watch him and I knew it. He drank like this. And I learned something from him. I learned how to drink alcohol from my daddy. We lived in a little three-room house. Didn't have a bath. It had a path. And my dad could not. He drank in that house. Mama was a very strong person. And she told him he couldn't. But off to the side of the kitchen was a little pantry, three by five. And that was my daddy's lounge. And he would, mama had her flour and the sugar and the meal and spices and all that stuff in it. But my dad had his bottle in there, jar. And he would go in when he was restless and irritable and discontent and mean as hell. He'd go. He'd go into that little closet and he'd shut the door. And he would, I'd hear him screw the top off that jar. And if you drank any white liquor out of a jar, you know what I mean. He'd strip the bottle down or the bag down and screw it off and turn it up. And he would sing a little song. And it went like this. God Almighty, that's good. And he did it every time he took a drink. And he would come out of that closet. And after about the third drink, and he would, he was a very submissive little fella. He hardly ever spoke to my mama until he had that third drink. But when he came out of there after the third drink, by God, he took over that house. And I liked what I saw. I really did. He became the man of the house. And he moved with authority. He wanted to dance. He wanted to make love. And every time he'd make a move, mama would say no. And finally. They'd get in an argument and he'd be gone. Sometimes he'd be gone for two weeks. I never remembered his being gone. I always remembered how he was when he came out of that closet. And I said, I'm going to get some of that. And one day I did. And I did it the same way he did it. And that's the way I learned to drink. And I never learned it any different. I drank in a closet all my life. I screwed the top off, turned it up, sang the song. And alcohol did for me. I did it very instantly what I wanted to do. And I've heard people say that it blew their fingernails off. Knocked off the toenails. Smoke came out the ears and all that kind of stuff. But it didn't do that for me. I can't ever remember a drink doing that kind of stuff. But what it did was this. It took away the pain. You see, I lived in a mill village. A little cotton mill town. I didn't like it. I hated it. My dad was an alcoholic. And I hated him. And I prayed every day for him when he went into the Navy during Second World War. I prayed that he'd get killed. That he wouldn't come back. And when I drank, the pain went away. The grief went away. The hurt went away. It wasn't bad living in a mill town when I had a drink. It wasn't bad having an alcoholic daddy when I had a drink. My mama was a wonderful person when I had a drink. Life was rosy when I had a drink. But boy, when I didn't have a drink, it all was bad again. So I started early drinking. And alcohol became part of my life at 10, 11, 12 years old. As long as I could sneak in the closet and get a little drink, I did it. I was alcoholic, I know, before I got out of high school. I never got out of high school. I quit to get out. They just asked me, don't come back. I believe they never had the word expelled. They just simply said, Ray, don't come back. We don't need you here anymore. You know, you go to school drinking, drunk, passed out, raising, saying, they don't want you there. So at age 16, I just left and did what I said I'd never do, and I went to work in a cotton mill. Boy, if you'd never worked there, you will do anything in the world to get away from that job. And I did. For the next several years, I looked for a way out. I got married young, 18, just turned 19, and I married the prettiest girl in my hometown. I know that. And she's still the prettiest girl in my eyes, in my hometown. And we set out to do what young people do in the late 40s and early 50s. And we were going to buy us a little house and raise us a family and have a wonderful time. And I was going to quit drinking. And almost did, because Betty didn't like me to drink. Something happened to me when I was just a young boy. I prayed that my daddy would get killed. And he didn't. He came back. And the same old hell started going over and over again in that family. And my relationship to whatever God I understood ended never to be again, as far as I was concerned. So I entered into this marriage and into life without a relationship with a higher power of any kind that I knew of, because I'd stopped it. But along about age 22, 23, I had a conversion experience. Now, you might know, some of you Southern Baptists, what that means. I was saved. And my life was altered 180 degrees. I stopped doing everything that I was doing wrong. I quit drinking and smoking and dancing. I almost stopped looking at women. Just life was cleaned up totally. And I became involved in the church. And coupled with that call to the, or coupled with that conversion was a call to the Christian ministry. Let me say it. I said this way. God called me to preach. Well, you know, I just thought he meant to go up on the street corner and start doing it. But a friend of mine who was a minister or a fellow that I knew was a minister said he meant for you to go to school. And that started a long process of going to school. Now, in a period of about 12 or 13 years, I didn't drink alcohol. I was a clean living young minister, a student minister. Something happened to me about the end of that 12th year. And I have to say. I don't talk about drugs in my talk. But I have to tell you that I went to see a doctor. And I said to him, Bob, I can't sleep at night. I've got so much work to do. And I'm overstressed. I'm going to school. I've got these two big churches. And this young physician who was a friend of mine said, why don't you come by my office and I'm going to give you something that will help you. And he gave me a little yellow synchanal sleeping capsule. And I never had one in my life. And I told him, I'm going to give you something that will help you. And I took one. It did exactly what the man said it would do. It put me to sleep. But I'm already an alcoholic. I know. And I know now I was. And about a few months later, one didn't do it. And I took two. Now, it was awfully hard to make 30 pills last 30 nights if you take two of them at a time. You know, catches up with you. I went back to see that doctor. And this is where my story. My story really begins in the alcoholism. He said to me, that's not a problem. I told him Betty threw it away. The bottle. He says, not a problem. He gave me another prescription. And I had two prescriptions, two drugstores and one doctor. And I ran that for a long time. Now, I didn't drink for a long time. But I took a lot of other stuff that altered my thinking and my actions and my mind. You see, I couldn't drink. Preachers don't drink. Your preacher doesn't drink. I couldn't drink. I couldn't buy it. I sat in envy of you people. When I finally started into the liquor stores, it took me a long time to get up enough courage to go into one. But when I finally got up enough courage to go into a liquor store, I had to sit for the longest period. Now, in North Carolina, we've got these little places stuck off in the fatherless, most isolated little corner of the world. The Baptists do that. They want to keep eyes on. Everybody that goes in. And I'd sit in that little parking, in that parking lot, and I'd look in that liquor store. Seen me like for a long time. Thirty minutes. And finally, wouldn't be a soul in there in the parking lot. Be clear. And I'd run in and get what I needed and run back out and get in my car. And one day I walked into one of my church officials. He was going in. I was coming out. And we hadn't spoken to each other about that at all. Never have. It was difficult for me to drink. But when I did start drinking alcohol, once again, I said, I'm not going to drink. I'm not going to drink. I'm not going to drink. I'm not going to drink. I'm not going to drink. I'm not going to drink. Once again, became complete controller of my life. I fell out of love with a lot of things and fell in love with alcohol. It controlled my ministry. It controlled my family. It controlled my life totally and completely, as it did yours. I had an opportunity once to move from the pulpit ministry. It's awfully hard for, was for me, to stand like I am. I'm not going to give up on it. I'm going to move on. I've got to put in the work. I'm not going to give up on my ministry. I've got to have a good relationship with God. I've got to be in the church. I've got to be on the church. I've got to be in the church. I've got to be in the church. I've got to be in the church. I've got to be in the church. You know, a preacher's responsibility is to preach about sin or against sin. And I was committing about everything that I was supposed to preach against. And I could not find anything to preach against. So I asked the bishop if he would give me a church that wasn't a church. One of these churches on the fringes. And I wanted to be out there where things were happening. and I found a place where there were alcoholics and drug addicts and unwed mothers and unwed fathers and inmates, the people that I thought I could associate with. And he gave me that job. And by that time, I don't love my wife anymore because alcohol is the most important thing in my life, and I tell her that one evening. And we began a long journey of getting out of a relationship that had been going on a long time. And finally, that relationship ended, and I got a divorce. I said to her, everybody I was working with then, I was working for the state of North Carolina in the early 70s, and everybody had a divorce, and I thought that I ought to get one too. So I got one. And coupled with that divorce came some major decisions. I had to move out and get me a house. I got me a swinging singles condo. I was 40 years old. I'd never swung in my life, and I wanted to swing. The second thing I did was to go get me a bar. I had never owned a bar. Methodist parsons just don't come equipped with bars. And I went out and bought me a nice bar and set it up in that condo, and I was going to do some swinging. I never thought that I needed a nice bedroom suit. I just bought me a mattress and threw it on the floor, and that's where I was going to swing around a while. I learned a lesson there. I learned several lessons, but one of them I learned is that I still drank the same way. I couldn't drink with people. I wasn't supposed to. Drinking was wrong. It was wrong in my mind, and I drank alone. And I drank just like this, and it's interesting for me to tell you this, or I need to tell you. I'd walked up those 20 steps. I had the bar and a drinking chair and a mattress. That was the extent of my furniture. And I'd walk up the steps in that little condo, about 20 of them, and I'd reach back in the closet back in the far corner and strip down the bottle, pour me out a glass of booze and go back down and drink it. I never took a drink off the bar. Always back and forth, up and down. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. I never drank. That's the way I learned to drink, and I was hiding it from the God of my understanding. That didn't last long. I couldn't afford to swing. Somebody said, Ray, you didn't have the whoop-out. I thought he was talking about something else. He was talking about money, I guess. Anyway, I didn't last long there. Insanity has now set in, and I moved across town to a little, well, I changed. I moved to a senior citizens' community. I was 41 or 42 years old. I moved over there. Got me a little duplex apartment and was going to settle down for the rest of my life, I guess. And I couldn't find a soul to drink with. Long about this time, nobody's talking to me. The loneliness has set in, that alcoholic loneliness that only alcoholics know. Al-Anon told me one time they knew about it, too. But I know about it. It was a lonely period of time. Nobody wants to talk with you. And, you know, I had so much to tell them about 1 o'clock in the morning, and I expected them to listen. And nobody was hearing me. And a little lady that did come over and have a couple of beers, and she'd go home by 9, that left me the whole evening to drink by myself. And everybody would hung up on me. One night, I said, I'm going to get somebody over here. And I pulled out a shotgun and loaded it with a double-barrel shotgun and put buckshot in it. I walked out. I walked out. I walked out. I walked out in front of that little apartment, drunk, and pulled down on both barrels and blew the window out. Bedroom window. My bedroom window. And I ran back in the house and crawled into bed and fell out in the floor. Boy, I was playing it out to the fullest. And then picked up the telephone and called the police. And it wasn't three minutes that the squad cars came. Lights flashing. Sirens going. They pulled up in front of that little apartment. And they jumped out with their flashlights and their guns pulled. I thought, God, I hope they don't find the gun. And they came in the house. And they asked all these questions, and I began to tell them about what happened. Car pulled up out front. Two masked men pulled the gun. Well, I'll tell you what happened. You know, that sounds like a foolish thing for a man to do, but I'll tell you what happened. When I went to the front door to let that. I got the detective out. I looked out in the yard and there was 15 or 20 little old senior citizens, men and women. And they were there every evening for the next six months. And they were asking the same question. Reverend, who do you think it was? Who do you think shot at you? They were scared to death. And you know, that story kept getting bigger and bigger. And some of them even came and drank with me, you know, after that. They were nervous. We had a wonderful time over that incident. I never told that for a long time. I probably wish I hadn't told it to you. I don't know if you've heard it this morning. I just, I share that with you to tell you how insane I became. I lived alone. I was an insane man. I had a responsible job, but I was operating under the influence of alcohol at all times. Now I was working for the state of North Carolina, a very political job because I'd gotten a political appointment, very responsible job. And that, the politics were about to change and I knew that I was going to have to hunt another position. And I really wanted to go back to the time when I was in the military. I was in the military. I was in the military. I was in the military in New York. I got to preaching. And I called the bishop in Charlotte, North Carolina, whose office was there. And I told him what... I told his secretary what I wanted. And she made me an appointment. And I drove down to Charlotte under the influence of a little vodka and walked into the bishop's office under the influence of vodka and sat down in his office. I knew I was in trouble when I walked in. I saw my records on his desk. And they were thicker than the big book. And I knew that there was trouble. But I sat down in his office and I explained to him what I needed to do. I wanted the church, a couple little churches out in the country. I really wanted to put my life back together. I had a lot to offer the church. You know how we do. And I just kept playing on it and playing on it. And the bishop looked at me and said, Ray, I understand you're divorced. You know, I was the first preacher in my conference to be divorced. And I thought he was really proud of me. And so I stuck my chest out and said, Bishop, I am. And he said, I've never appointed a divorced man to anything. And I don't intend to start. Now, I thought pretty quick on my feet when I was drinking. And I said, Bishop, I'm about to get married. And he looked and said, well, who are you going to marry? And I said, very quickly, I'm going to remarry my former wife, Betty. He liked Betty. And he said, Ray, if you can do that, I'll give you a couple of churches. Now, I had about 100 miles to drive between Charlotte and the place I lived. And between that time, I put. I put together one of the most fabulous plans in all of my life. I don't know exactly how it was. I tell it the way I remember it. Betty tells it a little bit different. But I made a phone call or two. And we got together. And I spent more money on her than I'd ever spent before or since. And I wined her and dined her. And one night when the lights were lit, I was in the church. And I said, hello. The candles were lit. And I'm about half drunk. I said to this lady, Betty, will you remarry me? Now, if any of you are in Al-Anon, I know you are. I want to tell you how sick you used to be. This lady looked at me with all the honesty and earnestness that she could and said, I will. And we did. And what a hell of a mess it was. Those next three years were years that were. Terrible. A lot of things happened to me in those three years. I drank more alcohol then than I've ever had in my life. I never operated a moment without it. I buried people that I didn't even know died. I married young couples that I had no idea had gotten married. And I visited the hospitals where the sick were. And I performed the sacraments of the Lord's Supper, those sacred sacraments, intoxicated. And the guilt was more than I could handle. And I drank to forget it. And the more I drank, the more I needed. And the worse I got. But a miracle happened. And we've all got them. It reached the bottom. And the only people that were now left in my life was my wife. She wasn't there, but at least she was operating from a long distance, my wife. She had left again. And a friend of mine who was a Methodist minister. He knew nothing about Alcoholics Anonymous. I don't believe Betty knew anything about it. They made a phone call to a fellow that they had no idea was in the program. I didn't know he was. I drank with him a lot, years gone by. And this fellow came to make a 12-step call. Now prior to his making the call, I had just gotten out of a psychiatric hospital. I'd been there three other times across the years. I had a psychiatrist. He told me a lot of things that went. On in my mind. And I'd been there in that psychiatric hospital. And I'd come home. And now this 12-stepper came. Everything else had failed. All other human resources had broken down. And this fellow walked into my house and said these little words. I'm going to help you. Get ready. Now, when I agreed. They already had the bags packed. And they put me in his car. He said, I'm going to take you to a hospital. I'd been in a lot of hospitals. And I knew if I could get there, I'd be okay. But on the way to that hospital, he said these words to me that I've never forgotten. He said, Ray, I'm an alcoholic. And I know how you feel. Nobody had ever told me they knew how I felt. They'd always told me where to go. What I was. But they never told me they knew how I felt. And he got me there to the hospital. And I woke up a morning or two later. And he wasn't there. But I remembered him. I said, if I can find out where I am, I'm going to get out of here. But I didn't know how exactly to ask the people. You know, it's awfully hard to ask somebody, where are you? And not want to. I just wanted them to know that you don't know where you are. So a little nurse walked into my room. And as soon as she walked over to my bed, I said to her, where am I? And this is what she said to me. Reverend Moss, when you were my mom and daddy's preacher. Oh, I wanted to die. I wanted to just die. I vomited all over myself. And I was sick. And here's a little girl that came out of my past. But I couldn't die. Hours so late. Later, the doctor came, the young fellow that I had known years ago, and sat on the side of my bed, stuck his hand out and reached over and took mine and said to me, Ray, my name's Bob and I'm an alcoholic and I know how you feel. Now, this was a young man that had given me, as a young doctor, the first sleeping pills I'd ever taken. And he had delivered my son. And now he was saying to me that he was an alcoholic. He knew how I felt. And he said, I'm going to send you to a treatment program. He didn't tell me what they were going to treat, but he was going to send me somewhere. And a couple of days later, the old 12-stepper came and put me in his automobile and took me to the treatment program in another place. I sat there in the lobby of that hotel, or that, well, I guess it was a hotel. It was a very fine place. I sat there in the lobby waiting for them to admit me, thinking that they never, never were. And a fellow came down the hall. He was dressed well, had on a nice suit. He looked good. Hair was in place. I had puked all over myself. I had a habit of doing that. And I puked all over myself. And I had on an old jacket with no shirt, sitting there looking as most of us looked when we got here. And this fellow walked straight to me and got down on his knees, knelt up close to me in my ear and said, Ray, my name's Jamie and I'm an alcoholic. And I know how you feel. There's three people in this short length of time that have told me they know how I feel and have introduced themselves as alcoholics. The program of attraction kicked in. I had not heard a word about AA, except that they were alcoholics and they knew how I felt. And I was attracted to those fellas, and I think it was that moment then that I wanted to be like you are today. And I said to myself as he got up to walk away, I'm going to be like him someday. I'm going to be like him. And I stayed for a while there and then they sent me home. And I went to see my superintendent who said, well, the bishop and I have decided to put you on leave of absence. Now that's a kind way of saying we fire you. And what you going to do with a drunk preacher? You know, I don't know, except to fire him. And they did. And I had nowhere to live, no resources, absolutely nothing. And I went to the only place, and Larry said it last night, the only place that a drunk has to go when he doesn't have anywhere else to go. And that's to his mama's house. And I went to see my mom when I was 50 years old. And I said, can I stay with you? And she said, if you don't drink. And I threw me a mattress on the floor near the back bedroom. That was March 24, 1980. And I went to my first AA meeting outside on my own. I made that decision. And I walked in and looked at you people. Now if you had asked me anything, I would have left. If you had asked where I lived, where my wife is, where I work, I didn't have any of those things. And if you had asked any question, I would have left. But you didn't ask a question. You gave me your phone number and you said, come on back. And I did. It was in my little hometown of Kannapolis. And that's where my home group was. And I moved back there now in retirement. And that's where it is now. Things began to happen. I found a sponsor. His name is George. I wish he could be here. He said he'd pray for me this morning. George never told me a thing to do. He always showed me what to do. He walked out there before me. He never, never told me what to do. He just said, let's go and let's do this. Somewhere along the line, I had to make some amends. And I want to share that with you this morning. Very important for me to remember that. I had already made amends to myself along about three months. And then I needed to make amends to Betty. I'd made that list and George said, you've got to do it. And I didn't have anywhere to do it. I couldn't do it at my mother's house. And I couldn't do it at her mother's house. And so I did it at Burger King. And you can do it anywhere you want to if you are willing to do it. And I took that list out and I was going to tell her everything that I'd ever done to hurt her because of my alcoholism. Got real serious. Reached over and got her hand. She knew what I was doing. She'd been in Avalon longer than I'd been around AA. And I told her I wanted to make amends to all the harm that I'd ever done to her. And she said these words to me. It's okay. It's okay. You see, I had tried the best I could for a long time to preach forgiveness. And this little woman had learned it in a short period of time in Al-Anon. And she passed it on to me. It's okay. And it has been okay. We've not had any problems with that in a long time. Probably never will. It's okay. That dad I hated so much called me one day and said he needed to see me. I drove about 100 miles. He was drunk. And I picked him up and put him in my car and took him to a treatment program. And they introduced him to Alcoholics Anonymous. He stayed sober the last six years of his life. I gave him every chip he ever picked up. What a wonderful experience it was. To sit on the park bench and talk to a man you hated so much. And for him to put his arms around me and say, Son, I love you. I love you. And I could say I love him. I watched my mother die. The woman that I did not like and was such a bitch. I watched her die and held her hand and said to her, I love you. And she said, I love you. And because of Alcoholics Anonymous, that took place. I've got a lot of people in my life that are very meaningful to me. And the program has given me friends like you. But one of the things it's done in the last couple of years is offered me an opportunity to work with a lot of people in the program of AA. And God has allowed a lot of young folks to come into my life. And we've had a wonderful time together. And one of the greatest compliments that has been given to me not long ago by a couple of those fellows that I work with, and we work together with each other. When I got to Alcoholics Anonymous, it wasn't so one to be like me, I know. If they had, it was crazy. But one day not long ago, one of these fellows said to me, You know, Ray, I want to be like you. And that sent me home thinking, I want to be like you. That's a real responsibility, folks. It is for me. And he meant it. And then not long after that, another one of the fellows I know said to me, Ray, I want to be like you. And that placed another responsibility on me. So I have to be responsible. I have to be a responsible person. And I am responsible today. I have a little responsibility. I have a little responsibility. You have to be responsible. And Dayton and I, when we lived in their lives together, it was alongside my age and son's life. I mean, modern. I married you when you were in086 and my father was in022. I always солom personnel with him. You know, I was in the Army, 2012 I wasolf 되돌 inscreimiento September 10th, 2018 he and I were. these classes in school where they were having sessions on AIDS and safe sex and don't smoke dope and don't do alcohol. And coming up the road, he very intelligently said, Papa, you used to drink, didn't you? And I said, yeah, I did. But I'm in Alcoholics Anonymous now, Darrell. I don't drink anymore. He said, well, did you like it? I said, well, sure I did. It was a time when I liked it. And I tried to explain that to him. And he said, I'm not going to ever drink. I said, that's a good decision. Little father up the road, he said, Papa, you ever do drugs? And I said, yeah, you know I've told you about that. And I did. He said, did you like them? I said, well, there was a time when I did, Darrell. He said, I'm not going to ever use drugs. And I said, that's a good decision. I would vote for that. Little father up the road, he said, Papa, you ever have sex? And I said, yeah, once upon a time, son, I did. He said, did you like it? And I said, yeah. He said, yes, I did. I ain't ever going to have sex. And I said to him, we'll see about that. Well, he rides around with me a lot in my car. And I carry a big book where I used to carry a fifth. And he picked it up one day and said, this is the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous, isn't it, Papa? And I said, yes, it is. I said, why don't you turn over on page 58, read a little. And he started. He started reading. Rarely have we seen a person fail. And he read right on through the steps. And while that young man read, tears ran down my cheek. Because every male on my daddy's side, except my son and my grandson, are alcoholics. And I thought, if I were able to give him an education at Duke University or any other great university, I could not give him anything better than what I gave him today. I introduced him to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. He may need it. My dad called me and said, I need to see you, son. And I went to see him about seven months into his recovery. And I knew what he needed. It was about time that he was to make some amends. And I said, I'm going to see you. And I knew he needed to talk with me. I didn't know what I was going to tell him. I didn't know how I was going to receive it. But I went into his home, or my sister's home. And he was sitting at the table, a little gnarled off of it, he cans. And he was drinking a cup of coffee. And he poured me a cup. And he started off. My dad had never hugged me in all my life. And he had never told me he loved me. And he had never cried in front of me. But he started off by saying, I need to make amends to you for all the harm that I've ever done. To you. And you know what I told him? I told him just exactly what Betty told me. And she learned it from Al-Anon. I took him by the hand and I said, it's okay. And then I stood up and walked around. And for the first time in my life, I wrapped my arms around that little old man. And we loved each other. And we cried together. Let me tell you about my first birthday. I don't remember last year, but I can remember my first birthday. Two hundred people there. I thought they all came to see me pick up a chip. But they came to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. A lot of people that I'd hurt were in that room. And a lot of people that loved me were there. My son, my daughter, my wife, my mother, and those people that I'd hurt the most. My son at that time was just a real man. Recruiting the Navy. He just had gotten in a couple of years. And he was a submariner, a big, scrappling young man. I never hugged that boy in my life. Not since he was a little bitty fellow. I never cried in front of him because I told him what my daddy told me. Men don't cry and men don't hug each other. Old Bob the Twelfth Stepper came and shared his story. And they gave me a chip. And I made a couple of comments and clapped. And, you know, we got the meeting started and over with him. I looked for him. And I couldn't find him. And then I happened to remember, I know where he is. He's not in here because his daughter is in there. He's not in here because his daughter is in there. He's not in here because there's too much crying and there's too many hugs going on. And I walked out on the stoop of that little church and looked down across the parking lot. And I saw him. There he was. And I got down and walked toward him. And he walked toward me. And there in the middle of that parking lot, I embraced that young man. And he embraced me. A young man who had told me just a few years before that that he was about to kill me because I'd slapped his mama. He said to me, I love you, Danny. And you're the greatest daddy in the whole world. And you know what I had to do to get there? Don't drink. Go to meetings and read the big book. Started happening. Started happening. Well, up my way, up my way, they call me Reverend Ray in AA. I've had the privilege in recovery and in my program to marry a lot of AA people. And we do an AA wedding. If any of you are interested, just see me afterwards and we'll talk about it. I hardly ever do any counseling because most of them have been married three or four times. They know more about it than I know. And I do a lot of funerals for people in the program, Al-Anon and AA people. What an honor it is. And I used to hate the church. When I got sober, I hated the church because the church had not done for me what it was supposed to do. And now they let me do some things in the church. They call me and I do some workshops and seminars on alcoholism in the family and helping young people understand what alcoholism is and helping do some intervention in the churches. The greatest thrill that has come to me is... is that the church that fired me has now offered me, or did a long time ago, two years in sobriety, they offered me the opportunity to come back and be a part of that fellowship of the church. I think one of the greatest things that happens to me, and I want to share this with you and then quit, is one of the greatest things that happens in my life today is that whenever an alcoholic calls me, a recovering alcoholic, and says, I want to talk with you, and they've got an incurable disease, it's for them to say, when you do the funeral for me, I want you to know, I want you to know that I've been to death already and I understand it. And I don't need for you to do anything more than just say, I want you to know that I'm going to die. I want you to know that I'm going to die. I want you to know that I'm going to die. I want you to know that I'm going to die. I want you to know that I'm going to die. let's do the AA stuff. And the strongest people I've ever seen die in my life, and I've watched a lot of them, are people who are recovering in Alcoholics Anonymous. And what a privilege it has been. Alcoholics Anonymous took my life, shattered and broken, put it back together, has offered me the opportunity to pass on what I have learned from you to other people. And in doing that, I'm able to continue in my life of sobriety. as I pass it on to other people. I want to thank you for being here early in the morning, and I'll see you back at 11 o'clock. Thanks a lot. Thank you.