June G. From Los Angeles at Carlsbad

Hi, my name is June. I'm an alcoholic.

Hi. I really want to thank you for inviting me down here. And I'm particularly grateful to be able to be invited down here on the night that Cliff celebrating his birthday. I had. I had a really special day. I was really grateful that Kerry was able to have an FBI raid and have her office closed down a few weeks ago so she could drive down here with me today. She's not working. I think I was more grateful than she was

about that. But and then I got to spend some time with Linda and Linda and I had, we used to be neighbors in Culver City. And so it was really fun to get to catch up on a few things with her. And then I had the privilege of having dinner with Cliff and Pat and with their family. And you know, I

Cliff mentioned, you know, that, that this is his tribe and that he has a family, has a family. And he does, he has a wonderful family. I think though, you know, for me, I, I really, I had a family

technically when I came to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous, but my family wanted nothing to do with me. And, and you know, I, it sounded to me when I came to Alcoholics Anonymous as though everyone else took a, a 30 or perhaps if they were really bad,

a 90 day chip and then their family reunited and lived happily ever after. You know,

and I was, I believe, five years sober in Alcoholics Anonymous and very, very active before I was invited to attend a holiday function with my family. So for me, the wreckage of my past was very, very slow, you know, in changing. And so when I was about three years sober and

and I met Cliff and I get to go spend time with their family, it was kind of like mine, you know, and it was funny because I was a little bit older than a couple of their kids. And and so when you know, some, when Cliff say who did that, they'd say June did it. And so I really felt like I was a part of the family.

I've been an only child and no one had ever really blamed me for something in the family.

Or if they had, I had done it. You know, there really wasn't anybody else to say they did it. They didn't even ask who did it. You know, we stole that. It was June, you know, So anyway, so it was, it's just, it's really special for me. And, you know, the process of Alcoholics Anonymous, I, I think if, if there is a fault

with the program of Alcoholics Anonymous that I have seen, it's that this program works so darn slowly.

And we lose a lot of members because of that. You know, we really do. I mean, we're, you know, we're into quick answers. You know, I, I always was, and, and, and I, I watched people in Alcoholics Anonymous so many times, you know, giving up

before things, before things change and get better and then they get different, then they get bad and then they get different and they get better, you know, and it's just sort of, I guess the process of life.

But there's a lot of times, you know, where I don't want to,

Well, I guess, you know, I don't have that much humility. You know what I mean, about, you know, showing up and doing it again. I, I was reading, you know, some of the literature and it was saying, you know, that this isn't, you know, it's an ongoing process and we need to have a new spiritual start. And it's as if our garden has to be constantly weeded out, you know, to keep things. And it's like, you know, I, I don't like wedding. I mean, I really don't, you know, And I mean, I, I really want, I just want a garden, you know,

I've done all that stuff and I want a garden, you know,

and I really get very frustrated sometimes that I still have to do the wedding, you know? And I have to remember that that's not, you know, that that's not a lot of humility

to think that I'm somebody that doesn't have to do the wedding, you know, like everybody else.

I, you know, I am a person today that I wouldn't have even liked when I came to the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I live a life today that I would have wanted nothing to do with. And yet I'm happier today most of the time than I've ever been in my life. And I was never a happy person. And I think it's really important, you know, as it talks about in the book that we that when we're asked to share that we talk a little bit about what it used to be like, what happened, what it's like today, Because I think that that gives a perspective

what Alcoholics Anonymous has accomplished in my life and and that what it accomplished is really in all our life. You know, I, I had I spoke a number of years ago at a meeting back in my hometown. And this guy came up to me after the meeting and thanked me for speaking, mainly because his sponsor made him. And sponsor was standing right behind him kind of pushing him, you know, and he shipped my hand. And he said, yeah, I want to thank you for your talk. He said, I really like that story. He said, I don't believe it was your story, but I like the way that you told it.

And, you know, and I, I thought, you know, it's only an alcoholic that you could be so paranoid and you know, that you would think people would like makeup stories, come here for years and years and go to meetings till they could get asked to speak to say the stories, you know, But

when I thought about really was that that was a tremendous compliment to what Alcoholics Anonymous had accomplished in my life. Because in July of 1972, when I came into the program of Alcoholics Anonymous, I looked exactly like my story.

I looked like I had been where I had been and nobody particularly wanted to go there,

you know, at least of all meat. You know, I I'm one of those people that believes I was born an alcoholic. And I don't want to have a philosophical discussion with anybody about that. It's just what I believe. There was something way wrong with me long before I ever started to drink. My first obsession in life with suicide and

I I began to try and kill myself from the time that I was four and five years old. That's as far back as I remember. And those were my earliest memories were plotting different ways to die.

And I would cut my hands and my fingers and my wrists with razor blades and I would beat my face and my body with hammers and I would burn myself with lighters and and matches and different things. And I did a lot of things to hurt myself. And as I look back on it, I,

I know what that was. I mean, it was like, I always knew I just hated everything about me, you know, and I sort of felt like if I could just hammer my nose different, you know, if I could just change, if I couldn't die, if I could at least just change. And you know what it really was as I thought about it more in my opinion, and I certainly have no background in this whatsoever. I mean, it's all, you know, my opinion. But in my opinion, as I look back on it, I was one of those people that I could always tolerate physical pain 10,000 times more than emotional pain.

And so I always tried to make sure that that's what I went for. And in my life, I was defined that in human relationships, I preferred to get punched in the face than to have somebody hurt my feelings. And so I tried to make it a point to get my face punched in a lot and I was quite successful at it.

I can, I can say that I achieved that goal on a regular basis. I anyway, I, I, I hated everything about myself. I didn't want to be where I was. I didn't want to be who I was. I didn't want to be doing what I was doing. And most of all, I didn't want to feel the way that I felt. And so for someone like me, the fact that I found drugs when I was seven years old

and then I began to drink on a regular basis when I was eight. And then I found a combination by the time I was nine that I never altered, which was barbiturates or Downers or Reds or yellows or, you know, sleeping pills, whatever you might call them, and alcohol combined. That worked for me. I, I wasn't a party girl. I've never had a social drink in my life. I've never wanted one. I've never not been drunk when I drank. It was just the way that I, that, that it worked for me. And I truly believe that I hadn't found those chemicals and alcohol. I would have had to been locked up in some kind of an institution

because I really could not make it out there. And I know a lot of people in alcohol are not going to identify. They didn't start at that point. But this is, you know, I mean, that's why the book says we share our own experience, strength and help. And that's the way that it was for me. And so I'm very, very grateful for alcohol.

Hi. When I was growing up, I was raising an alcoholic family. I knew a lot about alcoholism first hand. There was a lot of violence in my home. There's a lot of broken promises in my home. There was a lot of the same kind of stuff going on in my alcoholic home that go on and a lot of other alcoholic homes. And I knew that I was never going to be that way. I didn't see alcoholism as a disease. I saw it as a weakness. And in my life, there's never been anything that I've hated more in anyone,

most of all myself. And those things that I was to decide were weaknesses.

And I felt that, you know, that my mom and her alcoholism was a weakness and I was never going to be weak, not like that. And

I went ahead and I, you know, I looked around at people and the way that I saw the world before coming to program of alcohols, not us. I don't ever remember seeing a man cry under any circumstances. I've seen men shot, I've seen them stabbed, I've seen them beaten up, I've seen them arrested, I've seen their wives leave them. I've seen their kids overdose. I've seen them go through a lot of different life experiences. I never saw a man cry under any of those circumstances. And to me, that meant that men don't feel anything.

The only emotion I ever remember seeing men have

with anger and rage, and I thought that's all they ever felt. And I watched the women in my life going through all those same experiences. And some of them didn't cry, but most of them did. At one point or another, there seemed to be a breaking point. And I looked at those two different groups of people and I decided immediately which one I wanted to be like. And I spent my whole life trying to be what I thought a man was.

And to me, a man was someone who cared about no one, who felt absolutely nothing. And if they did, they never let anyone know it. And the only emotion that they seemed to experience was anger and rage. And that was okay with me. That seems to be a good way to go. The only problem was that I was, I was one of those people that, you know, that I've heard Clancy put so perfectly for me. I was a person who was born without any insulation for my emotions at all so that absolute strangers could give me.

And it would hurt my feelings, you know? And, and when the kids, when I first went to school and the kids would tease me about being taller, being skinny, or having curly red hair, I felt like I was being cut up inside with knives. And I would want to start to cry. And sometimes I would. And so I found out about myself from my earliest memory that I was the thing that I hated the most in the entire world,

that I was weak, that absolute strangers could hurt my feelings, let alone people that I cared about, you know, and, and I never forgave myself for it. And thank God for the alcohol, you know, 'cause that was what took the pain away. It didn't it, it just made me not care. And, and that's what I needed. I was a little kid and they said we want to be when you grow up. I said a boy wasn't as easy to do back then as it is today. And

my family is and was very active in the Catholic Church.

They were very concerned that I had this. You know, it wasn't like I said this once. I mean, I meant it. And they knew that. So they began to take me to priests to talk to me and to convince me that this was not a good idea and and that was not very effective. And we were on welfare. And so my mom, I guess maybe through a priest, I don't know, but found out that we could, that I could see psychologists and essentially psychiatrists for this desire that I had to be a boy. And, you know,

I, I really can't give you any kind of diagnosis about

why they thought that I, you know, tried to kill myself or why I hated myself or why I wanted to be a boy. Because I, I felt about psychologists and psychiatrists the way that my friend Patty Hicks always did. I thought they should have to work for their money. And I never told them anything.

I never answered one question. I didn't fill out one form. I wouldn't play with one doll.

I, I just, I wasn't playing, you know, And when the 50 minutes was up, I just left. And so I, I didn't get a lot of help that way, you know, but that was just the way that I was, you know, you know, finally I accepted within myself that I wasn't going to be able to be a boy. And so the way that I saw the world, the only option for someone like me was to be a tough broad. And I grew up in a town called Venice, and it's a beach town.

And, and I, I've learned in sobriety by meeting other tough Broads from different geographical areas,

that some things about being a tough broad are geographic, you know, And so being that Venice is a beach town, if you're going to be a tough ride in Venice, it's very important that you have tough feet. And I was very proud of my feet. And I could walk on glass with my feet. I was very proud. I would look for glass and flock on it when people were walking.

And one of my favorite things was when touristy looking people were watching me to take my cigarette butts and to throw them down on the boardwalk and to put them out with my bare feet. And then I would see these touristy looking people and they would whisper back and forth and I knew what they were saying.

They were saying, wow, that is 1 cup blood. And I was very impressed that I could do this. And I knew they had to be even more impressed than I was, you know. And after I've been sober for a while, my sponsor explained to me that perhaps what some of those people were saying to one another was, did you see that

that person just put flesh to fire? Why would anybody do anything so stupid, You know? But I didn't even know there was another way of looking at it. I just thought it was a very tough thing to do. And then just being able to step on lit cigarette butts did not mean you were truly tough. You were only truly tough if you were then able to walk upon those feet as if it did not hurt.

And, and those were the kind of things that kept me busy before I came down. You know, it's not a very exciting story. It's just the way that it was. I, I was in a gang because I, I tough rods should be in one. And and if you're going to be in a gang, you should do a lot of fighting and I did. I've never won a fight in my life,

but I've never fought less than five people at a time. And my sponsor again explained to me that the reason I always thought groups of five or more is if you fight one person, they might think you're not a very good fighter. If you fight groups of five or more, no one expects you to win. And they think, why, you know, why would that many people have to jump you unless you were really tough? So,

so it kind of the way that I sort of set things up, you know,

I, I was brought to a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous by my mother and my mother had been in and out of the program of Alcoholics Anonymous for many, many years with varying lengths of sobriety. Today, my mom has not had a drink

in over 15 years, maybe 18 actually, But she has not. She doesn't attend meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, so I don't really know whether she considers herself a member of Alcoholics Anonymous or not. But she is sober. And sometimes, you know, I get so caught up in my own story, I leave her out there drinking. So just so that you know that that happens.

And anyway, but she was in and out of Alcohol Anonymous for many, many years with straying links to sobriety. She brought me to a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, not because I asked for help, not because I wanted help, not because I I thought I had a problem, but just because she thought if she left me alone, I might get her evicted from another apartment. And I sat in the meeting that night. And the miracle of this program began for me that night because there was a man in that meeting that I admired more than anybody else in the whole world. And I admired him for a lot of reasons, some of which you may not identify with, but they were what kept me coming back.

I admired Paul because he was from my neighborhood in Venice, because he rode a motorcycle, because he had tattoos, because he'd been to jails and prisons, because he had a knife and had it with him at the meeting that night,

and because he was one of the most hostile and violent people I'd ever known. And I just thought, wow, I never thought people this tough came to a A. I thought it was just for weak people like my mom. And I was very impressed. You know, if I had to tell you what I wanted out of life in one sentence, when I came to, AI wanted the ability to walk into a room full of strangers

and have everyone there back away from me in terror. Now, when you're 87 lbs, that almost never happened. You know that that's what I wanted at life. And Paul is the kind of guy. He was actually a drinking friend of my mother's. And I had seen him walk into bars or into parties. And if he'd been drinking and he wanted to sit at your table, you just gave him the whole table. You didn't talk about it. You just gave it to him because you didn't know what he was going to do next. And so here was a man who achieved everything that I wanted out of life,

the ability to clear rooms and tables, and he was sitting in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous and it impressed me. I got drunk the next night and then I came back to meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.

And in between the meetings, I talked to Paul. He was the only person cool enough here as far as I was concerned for me to talk to. And I explained to Paul that I wasn't an alcoholic, that I couldn't possibly be an alcoholic, but I was far too young to be an alcoholic, that I had places to go, people to see, things to do. I had my whole life ahead of me, that I was nothing like my mother, who was very, very alcoholic, and that I was just quite obviously not alcoholic. And I later learned that non Alcoholics don't have to spend any time trying to convince other people that they're not alcoholic. You know, they already know that,

But Paul turned to me and he said, you know, June, I'm pretty new in this AA thing right now, and they told me that I can't diagnose anybody disease but my own, he said. But in your case, I'm going to make an exception.

I see the way that you drink and the way that you use chemicals. And I happen to believe within a period of six months or less, you're going to be on the streets, you're going to be shooting stuff, and you're going to be selling your ass. And I knew he wasn't trying to scare me. He wasn't trying to make up something like a teacher in high school might do about something they didn't know anything about. He was just talking about facts.

He was talking about things that had begun to happen in my life and were happening. And he was talking about things that had happened in his life. And I just, I knew that that's what he was saying, but I did not want to join Alcoholics Anonymous. I mean,

I didn't want to join any organization that was allowing my mother to belong to it. I mean, it was just, it was just not, you know, what I wanted at all. I, I really thought that Alcoholics Anonymous was the bottom. And I just didn't think it was that bad yet. And, and it wasn't then, but in that two week period, absolutely every alternative but Alcoholic Anonymous was removed from my life.

I had been living with my mother at that time for a very short period of time. By the time I came to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous, the only person I hated more than my mother was myself. And because of the way that I felt about me and the way that I felt about her, which was basically, I blamed her for everything that had ever gone wrong in my life and being that she was an alcoholic. And I had some pretty good stories that had worked in a lot of different situations over the years, you know, and it wasn't until after I got sober in the front of Alcohol Anonymous, but I learned that I didn't start taking some responsibility for my own life. Nothing was ever going to change. But at that time, it was just

easier to blame her and I, and I hated her and I hated me. And because of the kind of person that I was, I used to attack my mother physically. And she was sober at that time, even even though she drank after that. But she was sober at that time and she didn't think she had to be subjected to being attacked in her own apartment. And she asked me to leave and I did. The rest of my family has not talked to me in a couple of years. I was not allowed to call or come by under any circumstances. And I didn't bother trying.

I've been in a lot of foster homes. I've been thrown out of all of them.

None of them would take me back. I tried to get into some drug rehab and alcohol recovery homes. There were only a few back then, but the ones that were available in LA and none of them would take me. Some because of my age and some just because of my attitude. And then I thought, well, you know what, Who cares? Who cares about all these families and these programs and and these groups and you know all that? None of that really matters if you're a tough broad. The only thing that really matters is your own gang. And then one day, as I walk down an alley, all five members of my own gang beat me up.

And I found myself sitting in a meeting, Valcox Anonymous and I was £87.00 and I had a black eye and I had a swollen lip

and I had no shoes. I wouldn't have worn shoes if I'd had them at that time, but I didn't have any. I had the clothes that I was wearing and I had no family. I had no place to live. And I raised my hand in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. You can see where it was really pretty simple. It wasn't like, would you like to go to Hawaii or join a, a, you know, I mean, it was just that was it.

And when I first began to raise my hand, because my mom had been in Alcoholics Anonymous and, and knew a lot of the people in Alcoholics Anonymous at the meetings that I was going to, they, they knew how old I was. And they came over to me and they told me that they, that I was too young to be an alcoholic and they didn't want a little kid sitting in their meetings while they talked about serious things. And they told me that if, if I came back, they'd get together and throw me out. And I did not know that Alcoholics Anonymous had a third tradition, the one that says the only requirement for a membership is

stop drinking, which means that no one, anywhere can ever throw anyone out of a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I believe that those people at that time did not know that Alcoholics Anonymous had that tradition either. But I most certainly did not know. I just figured AA didn't want me either. And that was OK with me because I didn't want me either. And I had it for a long, long time. And I fell back on my #1 answer, the answer that I've been using since I was five years old. I went over to a friend of my mother's. I went into her bathroom, which is the 1st place I went at anyone's house I ever visited. And I found enough pills to kill myself and I took enough of them to do it.

And then that day before I passed out, I went to a noon meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. And by the time I got to the meeting, I could not stand and I could not sit. I laid in the meeting. I don't know about where you guys go to meetings out here, but in West LA in 1972, they almost never called on people who were laying in the meeting.

But for some reason they called on me that day and they realized that I needed to be in a hospital. And that's where I next remember waking up. And, and then I remember a doctor explained to me that the pills I had taken were to slow down my heart. And had I been there 5 or 10 minutes later, I would have been in a coma that they probably couldn't have brought me out of. And I really can't tell you

why that overdose was any different than all the others, but I didn't inflicted upon myself over the time that I was out there. I just know that it was different because since that time I haven't taken anything that affects me from the neck up. That's how I personally define sobriety. Done that one day at a time. The 13th of July is is my birthday. If I continue to do what I'm doing one day at a time, I'll celebrate 24 continuous years of sobriety and Alcoholics Anonymous. You know, for those of you who are new, I never planned on staying sober 23 1/2 years.

You know, I mean, if, when I walked in, if they'd asked me if I wanted to go on living or not 23 1/2 years, I would have checked the no box. You know, I mean, I, I just really didn't I, I just wasn't interested. And, you know, I wasn't one of the people that stayed in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous

because if I went back out there, I might start drinking and I might die. I've never thought I'd be that lucky because I tried to die as long and as hard as I could out there. I've always believed I'm one of those people that could go back out there and live for another 20 or 30 or 40 years like some of the other people and Alcoholics Anonymous were able to do before they got here. And I'll tell you, by the time I walked through the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous, I could not go on breathing in and out two more times, hating myself any more than I did. So there wasn't any way that I could have gone on with where I was for another 20 or 30 years

possible given the way that I felt about myself. I am, you know, I, I got to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was 13 years old and, and people were guessing my age at 37 when they didn't know how old I was. And, and I'll tell you, I look a hell of a lot better today and I'm almost 37 than I did at that 37, you know what I mean, when I was 13. And, and the the biggest difference is not even how I look, it's how I feel.

I cannot even describe to you how old I was when I came to Alcoholics Anonymous.

But I was very, very old. I was very, very tired. I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't have any dreams. I didn't want to go on any trips. I didn't want to read any books. You know, I didn't want to get a career. I just wanted to die. That was it. And I couldn't even seem to do that. And I sat in meetings with Alcoholics Anonymous and I listened to the people and they shared about the way that they had felt about themselves by the time they came through the doors of Alcoholics

Anonymous and how much

self hatred they had or, or lack of self esteem or whatever you want to call it. And what it seems to me. And I, and I think it was true that for most of the people that I was hearing that they reached a point where they liked themselves or where they could look themselves in the mirror or, or where they were their own best friend or where they, you know, they, they described it in a lot of different ways. And I listened to those people share about that. And I, I did not believe that that could happen for me.

Absolutely not possible. But the stories and Alcoholics Anonymous that people shared here were so filled with hope that even as hateful and cynical as I was about everyone and everything, I did get a glimmer of hope. And I began to believe that if I came to Alcoholics Anonymous. And I tried really, really hard.

Maybe someday when I was walking down the street and I happened to glance in one of those store windows and see myself because that was the only way I was going to see myself. Because I wasn't standing in front of any mirrors or putting on any makeup or any of that. I might look in one of those store mirrors and when I saw

who I was looking back, maybe I wouldn't feel like throwing up. And that was enough hope to keep me coming back, that someday I could get to a point where I might catch a glance of myself and I wouldn't feel like throwing up at where I'd come from and what I'd been and what I've done. And so I kept coming back for that. I, I got very active in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous from the very beginning, went to 21 meetings a week, most of my first couple of years in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. And, and I'm, I'm very, very grateful to the people who were here

when I came to Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm very grateful to my Home group back then, which was the Monday night Venice group. And, and it was an unusual group, you know, I, you really can't describe it. You just had to be there. It's like one of those jokes, you know, But it was the perfect group for me,

and I felt comfortable there and I got a commitment there. And, and I never missed that meeting. You know, somebody told me and they were probably kidding, you know, But you go to a meeting every day in your first year, unless you're in the hospital, you know, And I was at at least one every single day. I remember when I was a couple

of months over, I got these big lumps behind my ears and they really hurt and, and it would never have occurred to me to go to a doctor. I went to a meeting and I had a couple of the old timers feel these lines and they told me it was swollen glands and they got bigger and bigger and they hurt more and more. And I was on my regular 21 meetings a week pace. And after a couple of days or so, I, I was so swelled up

that one of my friends made me go to a doctor and he drove me over and he took me a doctor And I went in and I saw the doctor and the doctor said you have him up. And I said, no, I don't. I have a swollen glands. I'm not going to be a doctor over an old timer. I mean,

you know, I mean, there just wasn't an issue there. They had nothing to say, you know. But he convinced me that I did have the mumps and he said, you know, this is very contagious. He said, have you been around anybody, you know?

And so I went home and I called this one guy from my Home group who's the first person I called and I, I said, hi, Keith. I said, I gotta call you because I was at the doctor. Danny told me I had the mumps. And he says kind of dangerous for guys and I should call and tell people. And he said that's okay kid, you can't keep it unless you give it away. And I didn't miss one meeting. I mean, I didn't modify my schedule at all. I was just out there. You know, I had a really bad attitude when I came to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.

It wasn't like I got sober and got a bad attitude. I just came here with the only attitude I had ever had, and I had a bad attitude. I did not like women. I didn't like me. I didn't like my mother. I figured any other women around here had to be like one of the truth, and I didn't like them. I didn't want to sit next to women. I did not want to shake hands with women. I most certainly was not going to hug women. And I did not like listening to women's speakers, which is something that always makes me feel better because I know there are never as many people listening to me as it looks like.

The only men I'd ever known in my life were Alcoholics who were extremely violent. I figured all the men around here were Alcoholics, They were probably violent, and they scared me. I don't want anything to do with them either. And I had a problem because in July 1972, all there were were men and women and I didn't want anything to do with any of them.

And

I would go to these meetings. I, I didn't wear shoes most of the first two years that I was sober. I didn't take them off to go to the meeting. I mean, I just didn't wear them anywhere. And I certainly wasn't going to put them on for a meeting. You know, I just didn't wear shoes. I, I wore motorcycle chains on my wrist and my ankles. I wore a motorcycle jacket that on the back said do unto others and then split. And it was my own little spiritual slogan.

I

I had a very limited vocabulary when I came to AA consisted almost solely of profanity. There were a few exceptions, the and mother and

there were a lot of people in Alcoholics Anonymous who were extremely offended by the use of that type of language. And so I tried to use it more when they were around.

I wore T-shirts with staying on them, things on them that all people I think I could say this safely, including myself today, would find extremely

offensive. I smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day and I lit them all myself. I took up after a short time in AI, took up smoking cigars and then laid her a pipe. And if you choose to dress the way that I did and smoke the way that I did and talk the way that I did, you two can sit in a meeting just about this size and have an entire row all to yourself.

And I'm just very grateful that there was a third tradition that said the only requirement for a membership was a desire to stop drinking.

I am. And I just got really active in the program of alcoholic synonymous and,

and that was all I had to hang on to. The only place that I felt the least bit safe was in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was over 10 years sober in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous before I could put a dollar in a basket. You know, I felt like a huge failure in Alcoholics Anonymous a lot of the time. And yet, as I look back on it, being the kind of person that that I am and was, I'm ever so grateful that I came into Alcoholics Anonymous so broke that I couldn't afford to pay attention because

it made me do service work.

Because since I couldn't put a dollar in the basket or $2.00 in the basket and feel like I paid my debt here, I had to make sure that every meeting I ever attended got more than that in work because I didn't want anybody saying I was not taking paying my own way. I didn't want anybody thinking I needed any help. And so I always did, you know, more chairs than were a dollar or $2.00 worth of work. You know, more ash trays, more, you know, whatever it was to to give me a right to stay in meetings of

anonymous because I thought I needed that, you know, I didn't I didn't know that I'd be allowed to stay here. I

anyway, and because of the people that, that were in my Home group, it was a very, very active group. And so we traveled a lot and we went to a lot of places and we had a, a, a committee of where we would meet and we would make tapes for the loners. And so I learned about the loners in Alcoholics Anonymous that lived in different places and didn't have the opportunity to go to meetings. And we would send them tapes and we would get back tapes. And I started to learn about general service and started to learn about the traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous

and I learned about the central office. And, you know, back then we used to have a lot of 12 step calls and I had the privilege to be able to go on those 12 step calls and,

and they have a constant reminder, you know, of where I ought to be. And then, you know, if you hang around in Alcoholics Anonymous long enough, then you, you actually see some of the people you know, who go back out and who die and, and you start to realize that you know, that this is really a gift. I,

I think, you know, it talks about, you know, in the book, your whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. And I can't tell you exactly how or when that happened. I just know that, that it has, you know, I,

before I got sober or even in my early sobriety, I was so self-centered that I, if I saw two people talking, I was insulted, you know, and I could get it a resentment. And if I saw them look at me, I knew what they were saying and I could hate them for it, you know, because I just really believe that all conversations in a A or out basically revolved around me and who I was and where I came from.

And,

and it just kind of fed my hate, you know? And today

I actually sometimes get insulted and I miss it because I'm just not looking for it, you know, It's really quite remarkable, I think, you know, like later, I think. Was that person rude to me?

I think they were, you know, and, and I missed it. And I mean, before, man, I was like, you know, I was 30 minutes ahead of you being rude to me with my attitude. You know, there just wasn't, you didn't even get a chance to be fully rude before I got right in there. He's like, are you thinking about being rude? You know,

and I, I can remember I saw this bumper sticker. I don't even know how long I was sober, but it said you're ugly and your mother dresses you funny. And I can remember laughing. I was a number of years sober because I didn't laugh until I was a number of years sober because there was nothing funny. I remember laughing. And I remember thinking, you know, if I'd seen this in the early months or years of my sobriety would have like stopped, like, hey, what's wrong with the way I dress? And you don't know my mother. OK. So, you know, I mean, it's just like a different thing. Getting a sense of humor is one of

gifts that I've ever been given in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I've gotten it here from, from the people who came before me, you know, and some of the ones that have come after me that have let me practice my jokes on them.

I, I came into alcoholic spirits. I had a 7th grade education. I had dropped out of school and I did not go back. I was unwilling and unable to go back, I believe. And instead I got the kind of jobs that you can get with a 7th grade education. And, and I did those jobs for a while. And I began to think, you know, if I this rate, if I do this job, which I hate now for the next 45 years of my life, one day at a time, this is going to be a really long time,