Author James L. Huetson Copyright 1993 – First North American Serial Rights. Readers are free to download and use this material as long as they receive no payment for the material and credit this site and this author as the source.

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE HIGH-LIFE

It is what alcohol does for some persons that cause them to return to it repeatedly. It is a sense of ease and comfort, being in control, fitting in anywhere, making them genial, congenial, friendly, gregarious, jovial and merry. Men of talent have conceived their best undertakings when drunk; the most exalted creations and ideas have been determined under the same persuasion.

The rest of the world looks down from their exalted heights and proclaims these persons to be sponges, sots, drunks, drunkards, alcoholics, boozers, tipplers, and dipsomaniacs whilst those persons so regarded consider themselves to be only a heavy drinker or a drinking man. I have known, observed, and dealt with some of these to my ever-grateful delight.

COME SAVE ME!

I was sitting at my desk in the equipment room of a larger operating telephone company when the phone rang. It was Myrna from the customer service counter at the front of the building. She had no access to me except through a locked steel door. She asked me to come to the front as she had an unruly customer and the District Manager was not available. I immediately went to the front. Women at the customer service counter without a man present are easy targets for abrasive and unruly customers, usually bitter men. As I came through the door I spotted a man wearing khaki trousers, wet down both legs from the crotch to below the knees leaning like a cornstalk that has been left In the field past November. He was drooling and slobbering on the counter that he was leaning on and his cleanliness indicated that he must live in some place not quite up to the standards of those bums who lived under the bridge. I came up to him from the rear on his right and asked him what it was he needed. He slurred his words so badly that I couldn’t understand him and so I simply took him by the arm and started ushering him to the door saying, ”you can’t stay in here. As I wrestled him out the door he yelled, “Guadalcanal!” and I yelled back, “Okinawa” and closed the door. As it turned out the District Manager was there. He had seen the man come in and locked his office door to keep him out. It took most of the day and a can or two of air freshener to stop the customers from gagging as they paid their bills.

AND THE ANGEL OF HIS PRESENCE SAVED THEM

Let me repeat the story of Larry and his introduction to AA. Alcohol had quit working for him! He no longer had the capacity for drinking the amounts that he had in the past and it no longer changed his perception of the world to make the world acceptable. The good times were gone and it was time to stop drinking. So he did! He stopped with varying degrees of success over the next three years. Some times it lasted a week, sometimes a month, once it lasted eight months.

He had lost his business due to inattention and some bad investments. Then he went to work for Wesly A. Bull and Associates in Seattle. It was a small firm employing approximately eleven people. Eight of them were working in the Seattle office at the time of the miracle.

His routine was to take his lunch to work with him because he wanted to not drink and he did not dare go out for lunch because he knew if he did he would end up drinking once more. He came to work early to avoid the traffic and to avoid the open bars in the city. He usually left work with someone else so they could walk to the car with him and he would not be tempted to stop for a drink.

One day a man whom he had never seen came into his office and said, "There is a brown bag AA meeting on Queen Anne why don't you go to it with me?" He declined, saying that he was not drinking anymore and did not need AA. Inside himself he knew that AA would laugh him out of any meeting, as he was not a bad enough drinker to qualify for AA membership.

The next day the same man came into his office and said, "There is a brown bag AA meeting over at the Seafirst Bank building why don't you go with me?" He again declined stating that he had stopped drinking and so had no need for AA. It never occurred to him to question why a stranger would come into his office and ask him to go to AA meetings. He had worked for Wes before while drinking and they all knew that he had quit so he felt the whole world probably knew he was quitting drinking --- and was probably ready to applaud him for it.

The third day the same stranger came into his office and said, "If you aren’t going to go to AA you better have this to help you stay alive." With that he presented him with a hand printed copy of the Desiderata then left.

This fellow was starting to get on the heavy drinker’s nerves. He went to Wes that afternoon and asked him if they had hired anyone new. Wes said, "Yes, a fellow came in three days ago asking if we needed any outside plant engineers. With the new REA projects we have starting I hired him as he had good credentials."

The stranger never did come back to work at Wes Bull's after that last noon. He didn't even make arrangements to pick up the pay he was entitled to. When Wes tried to send his W2 form to the address he had given for his residence it was returned with the notation, "NO SUCH ADDRESS".

The principals expressed in the Desiderata have literally saved that alcoholics life many times since he received them; both before and after he became a part of AA.

WHEN YOU ARE READY

You are ready when your soul implodes, leaving a darkness within like a black hole in the universe swallowing up even the greatest rays of light, and can only be relieved by three quick hookers of whiskey.

In Larry’s own words he continues with his experiences. “I was sober with occasional lapses. I had been given the Desiderata and with as much self discipline as I could muster I was living without booze most of the time. I was restless, irritable, and discontented all of the time between lapses. I was bragging to everyone about my not drinking anymore and reassuring myself that I had never felt better --- and I was doing it on my own without help.

On one of my trips out of town I did some business in Philometh, Oregon and then checked into the motel in Corvallis. I went to the motel restaurant and had supper. I went back to my motel room after dinner and was immediately overcome by a desperate loneliness. I knew that I was gong to go to the bar for some drinks and company. I looked up AA in the telephone directory and called to see if someone could have coffee with me. I had never made contact with AA before. I had, however, read in some books on alcoholism about how they helped each other stay sober. The person who answered the phone said no one was available for coffee but there was a meeting in the basement of a nearby church. I went to that meeting. It was my first AA meeting but I really didn't need AA, I was just lonely. They asked if any new people were present and I did not identify myself. After all this was a one-time occurrence and I wasn't new --- I had read some library books about alcoholism and AA. They called on me during the meeting and I told them how I had discovered my drinking problem while installing an alarm system in a halfway house (true) and how I was at the meeting because I was out of town and lonely (also true). I even identified myself as an alcoholic. I didn't have to drink that night.

There is very little long-term job security working for a consulting engineering firm so I was looking for employment with an operating telephone company. The Citizen's Telephone Co. in Redding California was advertising for an equipment engineer so I applied. In my application I gave as a reference my former boss and good friend Stacy who worked for GTE in Everett. Stacy and I had spent many a convivial evening drinking together and hashing over our workday. Citizen's checked out my references and offered me a job with their company. In a very few days I got a telephone call from Stacy offering me a job opportunity at GTE. After negotiating with both parties I chose to go to work for GTE under my old friend and drinking companion, Stacy. We arranged for me to start work immediately following the holidays, on January 2, 1978. On New Year's Day I received a call from a mutual friend informing me that the previous night Stacy had dropped dead with a heart attack. The next day I walked into a new job where I had been anticipating working for an old friend now to be subjected to an unknown boss with unknown standards. The man holding the next level of supervision indoctrinated me to the company and sat me amid several strangers next to a woman engineer named Barbara. Six months before I had lost my own business, the day before I had lost one of the best friends I had ever known, today I was starting a new job amid new people. I was overcome with that helpless devastating loneliness that is symptomatic of the alcoholic.

Barbara turned out to be one of those compassionate people who borders on being a busybody. She had only recently lost her husband to alcoholism. He had returned from the streets of Seattle to die at home. She has since told me that when they introduced me to her and sat me down next to her she said to her God as she understands him, "Oh God, not another one --- why me?"

I continued my valiant, but futile battle for sobriety, for the next year and 2 months. Barbara has told me, and I know it to be true from the way I felt on the inside, that I was difficult, bordering on impossible to get along with during that time. I personally believe I was impossible to get along with over a greater period of time than that. In February of 1979 I took a trip with my wife, my cousin, and her husband. We went to Arizona to meet another cousin, Duane. I celebrated my birthday at his home. He poured me a glass of wine and I drank it. After all one glass of wine wouldn't hurt me. Well it ended with me having 2 glasses of wine that night, a bottle of wine the next night with a before dinner drink and an after dinner drink, and I found myself with a huge marguerita in front of me the night after that. I knew where I was going and didn't want to go, so I quit --- again.

Eight months later I still hadn't had a drink; restless, irritable and discontented doesn't even approach my state of mind. I was either going to kill myself, someone else, or go mad if I didn't have a drink. I was at work. I slammed my desk chair back from the desk, jumped to my feet, turned on Barbara and said, "This world is a big pile of cowshit and we are all flies crawling around on it!" and left for the bar to get drunk.

Well, Barbara has told me since that time that she knew that I was headed for my next drunk. She did what I consider to be the dirtiest trick you can pull on a drunk headed for his next drunk. She prayed for me. I had left the building and was on my way to my car when I was given a vision.

I saw, not as a dream, but as a reality which crowded out all other sights, sounds and smells, where that next drink was going to take me. It was laid out before my eyes all at once as a panorama rather than sequentially as a book, from the next drink, to my lying in a doorway on west Hewitt puking up blood and dying. And it was not like the two events were close together. There was an endless time of waking up every day worse than the day before; of each day hurting more and being sicker and unable to quit drinking; of an endless procession of days knowing what was torturing me and of being unable to stop using it. Then the final loneliness of my bleeding and dying while watching the feet of people passing by staying out by the curb so they could avoid being near me.

This vision has left me with the belief that there is in the life of every alcoholic a drink with a RED X on it. When that drink is taken there will be no recovery, only a slow death. And I also believe that I have been given the Grace of knowing that, for me, the next drink is that drink.”

WILLARD

He was a man and a half tall, a half man wide, and strode through the world like a mad bull elephant with his head lowered and at a full charge. He had many tall tales that were obviously a part of his delusional mind and none of them had anything to do with what he really was. Little Fox was given Willard to sponsor but felt he had too much on the platter already. Besides, Larry was ready to start sponsoring and needed the challenge and education that Willard would provide. So, when Willard asked him to be his sponsor, Little Fox donated Willard to Larry.

Willard was manning a table for the mentally handicapped in the City Hall that first day Larry was sent to help him. Willard told him that he needed professional help from an “in house” substance abuse facility, so Larry obligingly started an attempt to find one with a vacancy. After working with Willard and all of the “in house” treatment facilities in California, Oregon, and Washington Larry found several that had openings. However, after finding out that it was Willard that was seeking treatment they were all suddenly unable to take another patient. It seemed that Willard had burned a lot of bridges behind him on his quest for relief from his addiction. At lunch that day, Larry told Little Fox that Willard wasn’t an alcoholic at all, that he was, “just plain nuts”. Little Fox reminded Larry that in AA they didn’t diagnose whether a person was alcoholic or not. Each person decided if they were and if they wanted to stop drinking and Willard had voted yes to both of those requirements. So Larry was stuck with Willard. Willard had tall tales of having been an undercover cop on drug enforcement assignments, of having been and FBI Agent covering Mafia cases, or any of several other heroic efforts that he had been a part of, but he never mentioned any military involvement of any kind.

When Willard was about a year clean and sober he had to have surgery for a deviated septum, which meant general anesthesia. This is a dangerous time for an alcoholic or drug addict so Larry went to the hospital with him for the pre-op procedures. The anesthesiologist came in and interviewed Willard. Among the questions he asked was, “Have you had any other surgeries?” Willard answered affirmatively and the doctor asked, “What?” Willard proceeded to tell him that he had a plate in his skull and plates and bolts in both of his legs. When the doctor asked if he had been in an automobile accident all Willard would say was, “Nam.” Under those conditions Larry knew that he had heard a truth about Willard.

After the surgery, Larry told Willard that he would have to talk to someone about whatever had occurred in Viet Nam and that he knew some members of AA who had served there. He offered to get him in touch with them and Willard did start sharing with those veterans. All Larry ever knew about the event that injured Willard was that he was a body-bagger for his outfit. His nine-man unit had been sent to the site of an attack on a platoon to retrieve the bodies. It had been an ambush set up by the cong and he was the only survivor of the unit, nearly dead and with severe wounds. The other veterans only shuddered when they told Larry of this and said that it was possibly true. One said, ‘He is entitled to be as crazy as he is and probably used in order to stop the flashbacks”.

Willard would often contact Larry through the years. He would call and say, “I am in (whatever town he was in) and sober again. I have 6 months this time.” This kept on until Larry moved and Willard no longer had a phone number at which he could contact him. In the end, there has been no drunk that Larry ever met that he loved any more than he did Willard. God Bless You Willard, wherever you are.

WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

Wade had sobered up and was trying to help anyone that wanted to stay sober. One young man, an Indian, named Frankie was attending the daily noon meeting at the Unity Church. Frankie had eye problems and had to put drops into his eyes regularly and frequently. He also would sometimes miss meetings from unusual illnesses, which he would go to great lengths to describe. Wade would usually describe the illness as either red port or white port. Others thought it might have been an occasional bout of the Mad Dog 20/20 flu. Frankie finally figured out that Wade wasn’t buying the illness stories so he started calling Wade at various hours of the night and asking Wade to come and get him and to take him to De-tox. Wade would go get him, take him out to De-tox , they would clean him up and get him sober then Wade would go and take Frankie to a meeting. Frankie told him that all they ever did at De-tox was to clean them up, feed them when they could finally eat, and they laid around on military cots farting at each other. After one bout, Frankie asked Wade to take him down to Seattle to see his grandfather. His grandfather had sobered up some years before and had a good job on Capital Hill. His Grandfather said to Wade, “What are we going to do with Frankie?” Wade answered, “Just what we are doing; Frankie has to do the sobering up and he has to want to do that before he can.” The last time Wade had anything to do with him, one more time, Frankie called up Wade about 11:30 at night and asked him to come and get him to go to De-tox. Wade went to a skid-road bar in Everett, picked him up and took him to De-tox. They took Frankie off to the showers but before Wade could leave they brought Frankie out and said that he couldn’t stay as he was wanting to fight the attendant when it came time to shower. Wade should have just driven off and let Frankie find his way back to town on his own but he didn’t. Instead he took him back to his skid-road apartment and stopped in the alley by the door into the apartment. Frankie said, “Give me $5 so I can go into the Dog House Tavern and get me a woman.” Wade said that he wasn’t giving any money to Frankie. Then Frankie said, “I guess I’ll just have to take it from you.” Wade undid his seatbelt, got out of the car and said, “Any time you feel you can do that you just come on and try!” Frankie looked at him with a surprised look, smiled, and got out of the car and went up the stairs to the apartment. Wade called after him, “I’ll come and get you at 11:30 tomorrow morning and we’ll go to a meeting.” The next morning he came to the apartment, knocked, and Frankie barely opened the door. Seeing Wade he said, “just a minute” and closed the door. When he reopened it there was another street drunk in the apartment with Frankie and the place reeked of alcohol. Wade asked, “Are you going to the meeting with me?” Frankie answered, “No”. As wade left, Frankie called after him and said, “Pray for me Wade, I can’t last much longer.” Wade went to the meeting alone, and when he was called on to talk he started to talk about Frankie but choked up on the tears. Wade later found out that Frankie always carried a 10” butcher knife in a leg sheath and that if he had really wanted the $5 he probably could have taken it. Frankie disappeared and reappeared some month’s later, sober and carrying schoolbooks. Wade called to him and Frankie just waved and continued on his way.

ANOTHER FRANK

Judith came bursting into the Saturday night AA meeting fluffed up and agitated. She said, "Some street drunk has been plaguing me for a cigarette all the way from my car here". About that time Earl heard someone stumbling up the stairs to the meeting room. The door eased open and in came the dirtiest street drunk he had ever seen. His stocking cap had at one time been blue and white as you could tell from one or two little patches of color showing through the filth. His hands were black as ink with thick nails under which was crammed a black tar-like substance and some sort of fungus. His clothes had dirt and weeds hanging on tattered filthy trousers. He was so drunk he could hardly remain upright, staggering about violently, but with blue eyes that were as clear and beautiful as if he had never had a drink.

There was a vacant chair between Ben and Earl which they invited this man, whom they soon learned was named Frank, to sit in. Earl explained that he was in an AA meeting and that he needed to be quiet and not interrupt. With that he started feeding him cigarettes to keep him calm. Only once during the meeting did he interrupt. One of the group members was complaining that he had no place to stay so an AA member had been letting him sleep on the couch in his home. His complaint was that the couch was too short so he was kind of curled up and jammed into an uncomfortable position. Frank took exception to that complaint saying, "That sounds good to me, I'm sleeping outside in the weeds." At the end of the meeting Mandy and Earl ended up on each side of him holding on to his hands and trying to keep him on his feet during the prayer.

After the meeting Earl helped him down the stairs fearing that he would tumble to the bottom without someone supporting him. Standing talking to him on the sidewalk at the foot of the stairs he was startled when Frank pulled a buck knife on him and started waving it around. Now Earl was not fond of knives, in fact if you want to scare him to death just wave one at him. But in this case it was of no significance to Earl for some reason and he ignored it and kept on explaining AA to Frank. Finally they separated and Mandy and Earl went to his car while Frank headed down the alley. In a moment they drove by the alley and Frank was nowhere in sight.

The next day Frank showed up at the noon meeting at the Alano Club and sat by Earl. After the meeting he asked Earl to give him a ride to the Jackpot service station and mini-mart so he could panhandle enough money to get a pint of wine. Earl dropped him off there and just after he pulled away he noticed that Frank had dropped a small bundle of papers held together with a rubber band on the seat of the car. Earl went around the block and came back to give them to him but he was not there. He had disappeared once more. Earl drove all around the neighborhood but could not find Frank. He looked through the bundle and it contained an ID card, a food stamp card, and a piece of paper stating that if his body was found they should notify his brother and gave the brother's address. The next day Frank again showed up at the noon meeting and Earl gave him his bundle of papers. He was elated. He had been worried about losing them as it was the first ID he had ever had.

Earl started itching all over and went to his family doctor. He looked him over and told him it was obviously stress and offered him tranquilizers. Earl once more reminded him that he was an alcoholic and could not tolerate those types of drugs. With that he left and told Mandy what he had said. About a week later Mandy told him to go to the doctor again because his stress must have crawled onto her as she was now itching. He went to a skin specialist and he diagnosed him as having scabies and explained that to get it you had to hold hands with someone like a street drunk. Both Mandy and he had to poison their whole bodies and then do it again a week later to get those bugs which had hatched since the last poisoning. Earl told Mandy, "Just wait, once we are bug free Frank will show up and re-infect us in the prayer circle". Sure enough a week after their second poisoning Frank was again between them and holding hands with them in the prayer circle. They went straight home and used the left over poison on their hands and lower arms. No more bugs attacked them.

The last time Earl saw Frank he was walking down the street totally clean. His clothes were clean, he was clean even under his nails, his hair and beard were clean and trimmed and he looked really good. Earl greeted him and noted the changes in him. Frank told him that he had turned himself into De-tox to clean up as he had a court appearance to get off probation which he had just left with total success. He then informed Earl he was on his way to the Jackpot service station and mini-mart to panhandle enough for a pint of wine. Earl wished him the best and sent him on his way.

MY DRINKING DOESN’T HARM ANYONE BUT ME

In his new neighborhood there were some kids who teased him and some who didn’t, but none whom he was totally comfortable with. However there was a really nice older man, Old Man Johnson, who lived across the street. Jimmy and Old Man Johnson would sit under his apple tree and he would talk to Jimmy and tell him stories. He also taught Jimmy that he could eat green apples with out getting sick. He brought out the saltshaker and the two would salt the green apples and eat them as they talked. Jimmy cherished Old Man Johnson as he was kind and gentle and had an active imagination. Jimmy loved that because Jimmy was kind and gentle and had an active imagination.

Old Man Johnson had a brother who lived with him whom Jimmy had only seen as he walked down the street going home. The brother would be happy, singing and dancing on the way home. This brother was a drunk and a major disappointment in Old Man Johnson's life. In his estimation his brother brought disrespect to them. One day after the brother came home a shot rang out, followed a short time later by a second shot. The police came and they questioned all of the neighbors. The police told Jimmy's mother that they had received a call saying that there was one dead nigger at that address and that when they arrived there was going to be another dead nigger there. Old Man Johnson had shot his brother and himself. Both were dead. Jimmy had to ask to find out what a nigger was. He was shocked to find that it was used to describe a black man because Jimmy didn't realize that Old Man Johnson was a black man, he was just Old Man Johnson.

Jimmy's mother told his dad that she had heard the shots and decided that she was going to tell him not to spend so much time over there and to never go in the house with Old Man Johnson. If his mother could have seen in Jimmy's heart she would have seen a great sadness and despondency with the loss of a beautiful friend. Jimmy felt that her reactions had taken away from the beauty of his friendship with Old Man Johnson.

ANOTHER BROTHER

As we walked west on Hewitt approaching Rucker we spotted him. He was of small stature and dressed as most street people, in hand-me-down Goodwill. He resembled an old scuffed shoe in appearance.

We met him at the alley-way where he looked at me and said, "Why does everybody hate me?" I replied, "What makes you think everyone hates you?" "Well", he said, "All I wanted was breakfast and they threw me out". At this point he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. "See," he declared, "I even had the money to pay for it! Here, you take it". I said, "No, I don't want your money put it back in your pocket". At that point he asked me, "Do you hate me?" I put my hand on his shoulder and answered, "No man, I don't hate you. I love you". I could see the marks on him and his clothing where he had obviously hit the pavement when he was literally thrown out of the restaurant where he had tried to get breakfast.

We left him then, and walked on to the next doorway, which was Napolito's, and went in to have lunch. I was nearly in tears! Then I looked out through the window and saw a police car cruising East on Hewitt obviously looking for someone. I ran to the door determined that they should not abuse my brother. When I got there and looked out on the street he was nowhere in sight and the police car continued on it's unfulfilled way.

VIGNETTES

He entered the warm building from the cold night. God! How he hurt! The snakes were crawling in his guts, he was quivering like the “A” string on a violin, his head was running around screaming I need a drink, I need a drink! The smell of coffee almost made him puke. He looked at the man in front of him and said, “Could you spare me some change. I am so sick and I really need a drink.” He replied, “This is an AA meeting. We don’t give money for drinks but you are welcome to a cup of coffee.” The drunk answered, “I knew it was an AA meeting and I thought that I might find someone here who understood my need.” Two recovering drunks sitting in the back of the room waiting for the meeting to begin later looked at each other. The first said, “I think this guy really needs a drink, what do you think?” The second replied, “Yeah, how much do you have?” Between them they came up with $5. The first fellow took the $5 up to the sick drunk and said, “Here man, take this. I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell where you got this out on the street”; to which he replied, “I hear you man.” The recovering drunk went back to his buddy and said, “I hope that $5 helps keep him alive until he can get here.” “Amen Brudda” was all that he answered.

I was walking into work one morning when a bright-eyed young man with tight curly hair bounced up to me and said, “Can you spare some change for me man, I am sick and need a drink.” I virtually screamed at him in response, “Get out of here you son-of-a-bitch! You ain’t sick enough yet. You need to be on your hands and knees over in that corner, puking up blood before I’ll consider you sick.” With that I walked away.

Going through the alley I saw the same little man I saw most mornings. He was so dirty! His hands were black, his clothes were tattered, and he was going through the dumpster of the Business Man’s club looking for breakfast. It was one of the best dumpsters in town. This morning he was having prime rib for breakfast. He was talking to a group of people that I could not see. I thought to myself, “Why do we put these mentals out on the street to fend for themselves and they have to live this way?” As I continued on my way the Great Mystery roared into my brain and sternly told me, “Who are you to determine that it is better to be incarcerated and clean than it is to be free and be dirty?”

As we were going down the stairs into the cellar restaurant for lunch a street drunk came up to us and asked, “Could you spare me 93 cents. I need that much to pay for a bus into Seattle where I have a job waiting?” I told him I didn’t have any spare change and continued down into the restaurant. I looked up at him just before I entered that establishment and said, “If you had needed it for a drink I would have probably given it to you” and watched his mouth drop open as I went into the restaurant.

Ray had spent over half of his adult life in prison. He considered himself too smart to talk to most of the human race but he showed up at AA. They made him the coffee maker and had him open the meeting every Sunday. One day the secretary of the group came to the Longshoreman’s hall, where the meeting was held, to find the coffee made and the hall set up for the meeting. There was a note from Ray that said he would not be able to stay for the meeting and would the secretary close the hall after the meeting. This continued for two or three weeks more and when the secretary checked it out on the street he found that Ray had gone back to drinking. But Ray had enough respect for AA that drunk or sober he wanted it to be opened. They had to take his key away from him and have someone else open. You can’t have an active street drunk with a key to the building owned by someone willing to have AA meeting in it.

He had a raw scrape wound on his face and was filthy. He could hardly walk and the walk was that “shuffle” that a suffering alcoholic uses to get about when he is hurting bad. He came up to us and asked if we could help him get a drink. Between us we came up with $2 and gave it to him. As with almost every handout I ever gave a street drunk his response was, “God Bless”.

PAUL

I had a friend named Eric that had an experience that nearly lead him to drink again and how he was saved. Let him tell you about it.

I had been sober about 7 years and things were not going that well. I was sitting in many meetings a week arguing inside myself with just about everything that was going on in the meetings. I didn't like what was going on in my personal life. My professional life was boring and dummies were running the company.

I had to make a field trip to Moscow, Idaho to engineer in an equipment addition. It was November and an early snowstorm started just after I arrived. At the airport I picked up a company car and went to my motel where I checked in. As was my habit, taught to me by AA people ahead of me, the first thing I did was to find the AA telephone number and call it to find when and where a meeting was for that evening. I wrote the number down and put it in my wallet because I had found that when you really need the AA number it is too small to find in the telephone book.

I went to a meeting that night where I found things to be slightly more acceptable than at home. They gave me special attention as I was a visitor from out of town and special attention always makes me feel like the meeting is fulfilling.

After work the next day I went down to Clarkston to see friends. They are 2 of my better friends and perform the act of sponsorship for me regularly. They are always good for me and when they see me heading the wrong way will tell me. We had a wonderful time visiting and catching up on the news. It was like the best of AA meetings. It started to snow heavily on the way back to Moscow.

The next day of work was especially trying and when I got to the motel I took a little nap. When I awoke I called the AA number and asked where a meeting was. The nearest meeting was in Pullman and began in twenty minutes. I looked out the window and it was snowing hard with high winds. I didn't know the town of Pullman and it was more than twenty minutes away. Since I had been at a meeting the night before last and spent the last night my friends I decided I would not go to the meeting in Pullman.

I went to the restaurant of the motel to eat. On the way to the restaurant I passed 2 bars. The first was called the quiet bar. It had an open-hearth fireplace and everyone was sitting in pairs or fours talking in soft voices, intimately. The next bar I went by had a rock band and there was lots of laughter and music, dancing and fun going on. When I got to the restaurant it was located so that I could still hear the rock bar. I asked for a seat in the smoking section. There were no seats in the smoking section but they said I could sit at the counter as smoking was allowed there. I went to the counter where they brought me a menu and I ordered a cup of coffee. The coffee arrived and I took a sip and started to read the menu.

WELL! I don't know if you have traveled this country alone as much as I have but there is no lonelier place than the unoccupied counter of a restaurant in a strange town where no one knows you and no one cares what happens to you. I was overcome with this loneliness. I leapt to my feet, threw the money for the coffee on the counter and left.

As I left the restaurant my head was filled with, and all I can remember seeing, is what I believe to be the hotel lobby that Bill W. was in when he had to make the choice between the friendly bar and the cold telephone. It would be interesting if I could see that lobby as it was, to compare with my lobby, which is still vivid in my mind. I walked by both bars, never seeing anything but my vision. The vision stayed with me until I got to my room. I entered the room and at once called the AA number.

A woman answered the phone and I told her that I was from out of town and needed help. She responded that it was much to bad weather to get someone to come to me but that she had 10 years of sobriety and would be glad to talk to me over the telephone. I thanked her and said that would help. She started by saying that she no longer had any problem with alcohol and that her problems were now living problems. At that I started to cry uncontrollably. You see, I needed someone with a drinking problem not a living problem. She kept trying to calm me but all I could do was cry. Finally she said, "Oh all right here's two phone numbers of men that you can call." I called the first number and a man answered the phone. I said, "My names Eric and I'm an alcoholic from the coast and I need help." He said, "Where are you?" I told him which motel I was in and he said, "Don't leave your room I'm on my way over." I offered to meet him at a restaurant part way to save him a long trip in the blizzard that was going on. He simply reiterated that which he had previously said, "Don't leave your room I'm on my way over."

While he was in route I followed instructions and did not leave my room. I ordered a pot of coffee from room service and just after the coffee arrived there was a knock at my door. I opened the door and a man asked if I was Jim. I said yes I was. He said, "My name is Paul and I'm from AA." Then he put his arms around me and said, "Everything is going to be O.K." which made me cry again, but not hopelessly this time.

He then sat and talked program with me. For hours we shared our experience strength and hope with each other. Finally I said, "I'd better let you go you have to go to work tomorrow." He replied, "Are you sure you're all-right? If you are not I'll stay the night if necessary." I reassured him that I was going to be O.K.

As he prepared to leave he said to me, "I hope that I did everything right. You see I've only been sober for 60 days."

YOU ASK ME, “HOW FAR CAN YOU SEE?”

I ANSWER, “HOW BIG IS WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR?”

IT WAS ABOUT 2:00 IN THE AFTERNOON WHEN I SAW HIM. The sidewalk on the north side of the courthouse is about 12 feet wide and he was using every inch of it as he staggered up the hill. My heart reached out to him and I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was not an unusual sight for that time of day, in that neighborhood, but someway he summoned my undivided attention.

About three fourths of the way to the top he couldn't go any further and stopped to rest his buttocks on the left fender of a car parked nose in to the sidewalk. In a spasm of pain he wrapped his arms around his stomach and folded the top half of his long body over them.

I had never before done anything like I did in the following moments. I leapt from my chair, went to the elevator, went down to the street, and hurried up the hill to this man to make sure he was all right. I knew in my guts that all of the rest of the world would look at this man and pass him by on the other side of the sidewalk; he could die and no one would notice his passing; or care.

As I approached him he remained hanging over his arms and looked up at me from under his heavy eye brows. I said, "Are you all right man?" He answered, "I'm O.K." I said to him, "There's a better way you know!" His reply was, "Don't preach at me man!" I answered back, "If you don't want me here I'll go away." In a voice of quiet desperation he cried, "Don't leave me man." I told him I would stay until he sent me away. At that he again looked up at me from under his heavy eye brows with eyes that were as clear and unshrouded as if he had never had a drink and said, "We take care of each other don't we brother."

At that time the fire Marshall, whose car the drunk was leaning on, came out to the car. He made some downgrading statement to the drunk and the drunk staggered away from the car with his fists up, back pedaling away totally out of balance and about to fall. The fire Marshall got on the radio and I knew he was calling for police to show up. I told the drunk that we had better leave or he was going to be jailed. We walked back down the hill. At the foot of the hill he fell and lit right on his face with a horrible, hollow bonk as his head struck the pavement. He got right up and said for me to go the way I had to and he was going to go the way he had to; then headed south on Wetmore.

I went back up to my desk, looked in the direction he had gone and this man who could hardly walk had disappeared.