His story and steps 1 and 2 at the Carry THIS Message Group in West Orange, NJ

I'd like to now introduce our guest speaker for the month, James L. from Dover, and he'll

be speaking of his story in steps one and two.

Good evening everybody, I'm a grateful drunk and my name is James.

It is because of God's grace, lessons I learned from people like yourself, I have not found

it necessary to pick up a drink or any minor chemical since June 11, 1994, and for that

I'm eternally grateful.

I was, it is a custom for me to just open up the way I open up.

Anytime to carry the message group, drop a dime on me and give me a call and say, hey

James, you want to come and participate with us, I get excited.

And I'll tell you why.

Anytime that I can come to a place like this, where I feel the kind of freedom that I feel

to share my experience, strength and hope with other people who are on the same path

that I am on.

It's always good to do that, you know, I mean if you look at other organizations in the

world they got the same kind of thing, you know, the Marines stick with the Marines,

the Army stick with the Army, the Navy talk to the Navy, you know, and they all got their

own little ways they do things, you know, and I think that those of us who like to follow

the basic text feel similar to that, you know, when we get amongst each other it's like,

hoorah!

You know what I mean?

You feel like Marines, you know, it's like, you know, when you go to boot camp, you know,

you get that sponsor, you know, it's like that drill sergeant, you know, your mommy's

not here now, you know.

I believe that the format was to introduce my story to you.

I'm not big on drunk a lot, but I'm going to try to give you a summary of what I believe

happened to me before the message took hold, and I think that that's about the best way

to do it.

The earliest memory that I have, or let's say the first self-centered moment that I

felt where I had that mirror experience, you know, that out-of-body thing where you could

see you in a scene, sometimes I can see that in memory, you know what I mean?

That I was experiencing something at that time when I was a child, and what I remember

is when I was a small boy, I could see my grandmother pulling me on one hand and my

mother holding me with the other one and watching my grandmother win the war.

And that'll let you know that that's the reason why I was raised in Dillon, South Carolina

before I came to New Jersey.

My grandmother had took me away from my mother because my mother and father were separating

when I was real young, and I had two younger sisters, two and one at the time, and my grandmother

takes me to South Carolina, my mother takes my sister to New Jersey City.

So my grandmother is raising me from this small child, and she's the only parent that

I know.

Now, I really need you to kind of stay with me here because I'm one of those alcoholics

that believe that I was defective before alcohol did the magic thing.

So I'm not going to sit here and tell you that alcohol was the problem for me, because

I'm not one of those people that believe that.

I don't mean no disrespect to those who do, I never looked at alcohol as an enemy.

I said it before and I'll say it again, if you talk bad about alcohol in my presence,

this is like talking about an old girlfriend.

You might be mad at me if I get upset with you, but see I can say bad things about it,

but you better not.

You understand what I mean by that?

And that's how my relationship is with alcohol.

Now it doesn't mean that I want to get back with my old friend, I just don't appreciate

you talking bad about him, you know.

So what happened was, between the ages of three until I was I guess about 11, 11 and

a half years old, the first dramatic thing that I can recall was that I came home from

school one day to do my homework.

As I'm kneeled down at the kitchen, I'm going to say at the living room coffee table, my

grandmother is sitting in her chair and she's suffering from an asthma attack.

So every time she would have asthma, she would tell me to go in the kitchen and get her a

cup of coffee.

Now I understood that the coffee kind of calmed her down or whatever, I didn't know that then

but I know that now.

So I went in the kitchen and got her coffee like she told me and I brung it to her and

got back down to the coffee table to continue my homework.

And I noticed in the period of time that I was there, grandma had not moved from this

position.

So I went over to her and I tapped her and the coffee spilled in her lap and I noticed

there was no response, I didn't get kicked or shot putted or anything like that.

I knew something was wrong and I'll be honest to tell you that that was the first time that

I felt pure terror.

I had no answers.

I was terrified.

I run out the door, I go get my great uncle who comes back to later on let me know that

grandma had passed away.

Now that was one of the first traumatic things that happened to me.

So now, I never knew my mother and father really, so now these two people come to retrieve

me.

Male, female.

Now, grandma was a female, I go with mama.

Mama brings me to the wonderful, wholesome town of Jersey City and there I started in

Mayberry.

For those who know anything about Jersey City, especially the Greenville area, it ain't Mayberry.

Compared to the environment that I was accustomed to, to the environment that I'm now brung in,

I was in culture shock because hospitality was not the same.

I saw people clamoring and trying to step over each other and I was confused and couldn't

understand because what I want to share with you is the reason that I'm bringing this idea

up is because I was born February 16th, 1963 in Dillon, South Carolina.

And I have seen some things and have experienced some things which my cousins and family members

up north here had never experienced.

I actually saw strange fruit.

Now, for those who don't understand what I mean, is that I actually saw men hanging from

trees.

I saw men dead in ditches.

I saw prejudice.

I saw surrogation.

I saw people moving for their rights to be.

And now here I am up north and I'm watching people up here having the opportunities that

people down there didn't have, but yet their condition was a lot different.

So here I was, big for my age.

My sisters and them was estranged from me because I was big for my age, so they didn't

really give me any love or fellowship.

So every time my mother would leave the room, the family would leave me.

You know, like I'd be by myself.

So now I'm feeling loneliness for real for the first time.

I'm feeling like there's nobody I can turn to.

Now, I'm not drinking yet, except for when I had my first drink when I was nine years

old.

Now, if you notice, I didn't talk to you about that first drink because that first drink

ain't really the significance of what I'm talking about here.

But if you really want to know, I'll tell you how that came about, just like everything

else came about.

For example, I had a grandfather who loved me to death.

He comes home from work one day.

He don't feel like playing.

He goes in the house.

He comes back out with his clear mayonnaise-looking jaw.

I don't know what it is.

He's smoking a cigar.

He opens up his jaw, takes a couple of swigs, and became a fun-loving guy.

So one day, he came home, same reality, same moment, same thing, sits down.

This time, he drops back in the chair.

I see the example.

I light a cigar.

I choke.

I open up this mayonnaise jar, took a swig of corn whiskey.

Now, if you know anything about corn whiskey, don't go down smooth when you're nine.

So y'all already know y'all can eliminate the idea of James was drinking for the taste.

No, I wasn't.

So now to bring you back up to date, now I'm between the ages of 11 1⁄2 or so to 13.

And what happened in that year and a half was I was trying to get to know my mother.

I love my mother.

My mother would visit South.

She would spend some time.

My father would drive by, drop off something, and keep it moving.

So I felt like I really wanted to know my mother.

Now, in the year and a half of trying to get to know her, when I was 13 years old, I'm

going to move you up a year and a half now, me and some friends are down at the public

swimming pool, and we leave the public swimming pool, and we're walking back towards home

on Montgomery Street, and we noticed that there was an ambulance out in front of this

social club that my mother and them would go to.

Now this is in the mid-70s in Jersey City, you know, in downtown Jersey City, there wasn't

that many black-owned bars, so they had a lot of social clubs.

They were just like bars, like a VFW Hall or whatever.

So we go down the street, and we look, and we see this ambulance, so just like good ghetto

kids, we do what came naturally.

We take off down the street to see what's happening.

So as we get up to the building, they're bringing a woman out on a stretcher, and it's my mother.

Her hair is all over the place, she's screaming and yelling, she's saying things you can't

make any sense of, and she ended up her mind snapping, because somebody thought it was

necessary to slip a Mickey in her drink, and it snapped her mind.

And from that day on out, my mother was never really herself.

So here I am, 13 years old, I really never got the chance to really be close to anybody

yet, and now I'm starting to drink with a purpose.

Because between the ages of 11 and 13, I was the kid that when you laid your Budweiser

down, I took it.

You laid your scotch down, I sipped it.

You know, I was trying to win the applause of the kids around me, or trying to be cool,

you know, I'm going to go steal a couple of beers and bring them back in the room.

You know, I was always working hard at trying to get my family to accept me.

I'm not talking about friends, I'm talking about blood relatives.

And I'm walking around feeling this, what most drunks know, that I'm starting to fill

the hole now.

See, and the reason I'm sharing this way is that I'm trying to stay in my present to share

my past with you.

You know, I'm today feeling that I'm a little better than I was then, because now I'm no

longer letting that past dominate my present.

So yeah, I feel at this present moment, I'm feeling a little, you know, remembrance of

the time, and it's starting to give me the feeling, you know.

But that's what I come to meetings for, to get honest with you and to tell you the truth

about what's really going on, and what work I had to do to be where I'm at.

So now, I'm sending the older boys, you know, to go get the beer in the liquor stores and

the winos, and I'm drinking and I'm becoming angry.

Ooh, did I say angry?

Y'all don't know nothing about that.

So I'm starting to feel that resentful thing, you know.

Like, you know, you're not even there and I hate you.

Like my father, when you would mention my father's name, I would, I would, you know.

Oh yeah.

You know, and I'm feeling that kind of stuff.

And booze is working.

It's starting to work.

And now I'm picking up the example of the pimp players, hustlers, and gamblers, because

they were my heroes.

You know, that's why I wear that big old hat like I wear, you know, and stuff.

That's why I like little gold chains and rings and stuff.

I don't know where I get that.

Like Sis told me, I like my shirt, you know, yeah, my shirt.

And those guys were my hero, and they used to dress right.

They had the big cars and they had the good-looking girlfriends.

They were always around.

None of them had jobs, but they always had pockets full of money, and they would do little

things like, hey, come here, James.

Here, bro, go down the street and get me a sandwich.

Here's a couple of dollars for you.

They was the only ones that were kind of like showing me what I wanted from my family.

Now, I'm going to move on a little faster, but I want to give you an example of why I'm

talking about this.

Now, take a minute and picture this.

You're estranged from your southern family.

You're up north.

You're about, say, 11 years old, and an ice cream truck is coming.

Now, every adult, maybe every young person in this room, knows what it feels like when

an ice cream truck comes.

You run down the street because you see all the adults on the steps, and we all tear down

the street to the adults to get the money because the ice cream truck is here.

And you're in the crowd with the rest of the children, and your uncles and aunts and them

are outside distributing money.

And you're in the crowd of children trying to work your way up so you can get your dollar

to get ice cream, too.

And you'll see all of them get a dollar and start taking off down the street, and you'll

see your uncle take his money, fold it back up, and put it in his pocket.

And you're standing there wondering, what about me?

Y'all with me so far?

I'm pissed off.

I'm becoming something ugly.

And I looked up, and my Aunt Janet, who I love more than my own biological mother, was in

her window, and she saw this.

And I still love her to this day, Aunt Janet said.

And she was the one beam of light I had in all of this stuff throughout my life and still

to this day.

She is the one place that I go where I find that human contact that I need outside of

my sponsor, outside of people I see in this room like Gene and Kat and Mike and them and

a few other faces I see on a familiar or regular basis.

Y'all the closest thing I got to me.

That's why when y'all around me and I get to talk about AA, y'all all I got.

It's the truth.

I wish I could tell you something different.

I wish I could tell you I got a whole lot of wholesome home life.

The only home life that I got is that which God has given me.

The father I didn't have, God put a man in my life.

It's the closest thing to a father I ever had.

I never really had much of a tight family life and God has now gave me the opportunity

where I could be the father that my father wasn't.

So things turned out okay, a little, not a lot.

I'm blessed.

So what happens now is between the ages of 15 and 18, I'm starting to drink heavily.

I'm becoming the second description that you hear about and there's a solution.

I am becoming a certain kind of hard drinker.

I may impair myself both physically and mentally.

I may even kill myself a few years before my time.

But if you give me good enough reason, like her,

get me out of this hood, a change of environment,

or something tragic happening, I may decide to stop.

I'm at that point now.

But look how young I am, 15 years old.

I'm already at the hard drinker level.

Let me tell you where I was at 15.

It was June and it was hot.

And me and some buddies do the, let's go to the liquor store thing.

I got $3, you got $5, I got $2, I got 50 cents.

And we get it all together and we run over and we tell this wino to go inside the liquor store

and get us some scotch, some gin, some beers, some wine, some everything.

Plus we had some stuff that we use for better life through chemistry.

And we take off to the railroad tracks.

Now here's what happened.

I'm mixing all of this chemical together at 15 years old.

And I'm drinking much heavier than my peers.

Some of my peers were smart enough from the examples that were set with them

where they just drank just the gin.

Then you had a crowd over here that just drank the scotch.

And then you had just the beer and pot smokers.

Then you had me.

You know, I hit the gin, you're going to pass that scotch, can I get a puff of that?

You know what I mean?

Hey, don't drink all the beer, you know.

And I'm drinking heavy.

I'm 15 years old, it's hot.

And I'm coming down Martin Luther King Drive in Jersey City.

The sun is beaming and the whole world is spinning.

And I'm walking down the street.

I guess some of you all call it a brownout.

I guess you all call it that.

I just call it feeling good.

I'm walking down the street, you know, and it's hot, and I'm peeling off clothes, you know.

And I get to the hallway of where we lived.

I don't know how, but I got there.

And I ended up regurgitating.

I prefer puking.

And I ended up falling out.

And my Aunt Janet and my mother, for some apparent reason, was running errands that day.

And they come down one flight of stairs, down the hall, but come around the stairs.

And this is why I like talking about God.

Because my 15-year-old head was resting on the bottom step while I was laying in a pool of my own regurgitation.

I was 15.

And I remember my mother and Aunt Janet waking me up, trying to peel these stinky, nasty things off me.

And I'm walking up the stairs in a stupor in my drawers.

I'm 15 years old.

I am a real alcoholic.

If you have any problems with that, there's some people in Jersey City.

I'd be more than glad to convey that message to you.

You'd think that at that point, with the words of love that was being described to me,

and the example of love that my mother and my aunt shared with me at that moment,

would have been tragic enough to set me on the right course.

But it didn't.

Because I would not get honest enough with these people who love me to tell them what I needed.

Because if y'all recall, from age 3 to that point, nobody seemed to me to be trying to meet what I needed.

So I'll take it.

So I became a taker of things and a user of people.

From 15 to 18, I did a lot of stuff.

If it made you go, whoo-hoo, I did it.

Pop some pills, smoke some pot.

That's why I'm one of them drunks.

I'm an alcoholist and an addict.

And I believe what the old time I once heard said.

He said, if you say you're an alcoholic and an addict, it's like saying you're a German shepherd and a dog.

I understood that.

But I'm in Rome.

And when I'm in Rome, I do like the Romans do.

That way I don't run into no problems.

Now, if you want to talk about better life through chemistry, see you in the parking lot.

But the truth of the matter is, I'll stick to what AA's singleness of purpose is, and I'll try to carry the message the best way I know how.

But I ain't going to keep from you what my story is.

Because that's the only one I know.

So now, I'm 18 years old.

I'm working for an independent soda distributor.

I'm sitting on the passenger side of the truck at 18 years old.

We get ready to make a morning delivery to one of these little bodegas that sold wine and liquor, plus groceries and everything else you can imagine.

And we knew that they opened early.

And in my mind, I'm thinking, I could get me a half a pint of blackberry brandy to get this.

And I'm 18.

And the man driving the truck, he looks over at me.

And Nick looks over at me.

And there I was, 18 years old.

And my hand was doing like this.

And I'll never forget Nick Carpinelli.

I love him to death.

And I'll never forget this man because he was one of those people that showed me kindness.

And Nick looked over at me, and Nick said, boy, you need some help.

And I remember how he said it.

I can hear him as clear as day right now telling you how, you know, it was like the words of love.

You know, I don't know about most people.

You know, us drunks know feelings, emotional upheavals.

And I had one of those, you know, because when he said it, it made me feel like really sorrowful for myself, you know, because he caught me, you know.

And he said, you really need some help.

And he got me in my first rehab over in Verona, Turning Point.

And Nick came.

He visited me.

He was a nice man.

He tried to do his best to help me.

That's the first time I was introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous in 1980.

From 1980 to 1994, I was what people in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous called a chronic relapser.

I don't know where they get it, but I understand the word chronic now, and I understand why they called me chronic.

Because I kept doing the same thing over and over and over.

I would come in here.

I would sit in here for a period of time.

And then all of a sudden, I feel better.

And I don't like what you said to me.

And I'm not going to that meeting anymore.

And left to my own devices, I went back to that which I knew well.

I was sharing earlier before the meeting is that that's the reason why Dr. Silkworth, for me, is such a cool dude.

Because Silky's prognosis that he gave me in the doctor's opinion saved my behind in 1994.

And that came about after being three and a half years sober one time.

I like to call it my sodriety days.

Better yet, I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

What had happened to me was I had my first vital spiritual experience, not in the basement, but upstairs.

Don't get nervous. Don't run yet.

I'm not going to talk about Jesus yet.

What happened was I was in a gospel mission.

I had a spiritual experience.

And that spiritual experience put me on a journey of total abstinence.

No drinking, no drugging, no nothing.

Meeting would go on into discussion.

Y'all go around the room, introduce yourself.

Came around to me, I said, my name is James. I washed the blood of Jesus in the living.

I believed that then and I believe it now.

But the message that I talk about now is the practical program of action that went along with that first spiritual experience that I had.

So we'll talk about that down the road.

What had happened was there I was trying to live what a lot of us don't like to hear about in the rooms.

I was trying to live a religious life.

You understand where I'm going?

Because I never had anything pure and decent in my life ever.

And after having this thing happen to me, I wanted more of it.

So I was just as gun-ho about that as I am today about alcohol and synonyms.

I'm still gun-ho about that, but you'll have to catch me at another time.

But what happened was there I was leaving this gospel mission.

I met a young lady.

I got married.

I had a child in wedlock.

I had a nice little apartment, a couple of raggedy cars, and I was becoming a productive member of my community.

I ran into a job that was absolutely perfect for me.

It was a limo job.

I'm tall.

I'm black.

My name is James, and I'm charming as hell.

I got paid.

Oh, I used to get paid.

I used to walk up to them customers, man, going to the airport, and I had that jacket on, boy, and that tie and jacket.

Good morning, sir.

How are you?

Hey, Jimmy, how are you?

Nice and warm and toasty.

Got the paper sitting on the seat, and, you know, I'm just sitting up there just shining, and I jump out.

You know how I am, guys.

Most of y'all who know me know how I am.

I'm high-strung anyway.

I jump out the car, let him out the car, get his bag, walk him in, and he'll turn around and give me a nice healthy tip on top of that fee.

And what happened is after a period of time, here's what happened.

Now, if you're new, I really want you to understand where I'm coming from because this is what people who have had been released from the mental obsession want you to know.

There I was, bone dry sober, total abstinence from anything, coming back from work down 287.

I'll say it again.

Bone dry sober.

80 East, 80 West.

All of a sudden, this car decides it wants to go East.

I'm bone dry sober.

I was talking to myself aloud as I'm talking to you guys, and I said, James, turn the car around, man.

Come off there by Parsippany.

I'm on my way.

I get down there where we break off at over there between 280 and 280, you know, and I'm still talking to myself.

Come on, man.

You got a couple of kids.

You got a wife.

You got a couple of racked cars.

You got a decent job.

Things are going real well.

You're doing good in church.

God has blessed you.

I'm praying.

I'm doing everything I possibly can imagine to do to try to convince me to turn this car around.

I get down by Clifton.

I'm still talking to myself.

I get all the way to Lodi.

I could have sworn that that lady at the tow booth could see my, you know, going, and I come up, and I pay her, and I hit the upper level 72 hours later, and about $1,700 out of $1,800.

I'm coming back that night, and I'm about 12 hours away from my last drink, so I'm not under a euphoric state.

Y'all with me?

Y'all asleep?

Y'all with me?

Now, I'm 12 hours away from my last drink, so I'm not drunk, legally drunk.

I'm not in a stupor or anything, and I'm driving back, and I truly understand.

When I read a vision for you, I really understand what it means to be at the jumping-off place.

I started crying like a baby.

I could not live with me anymore, and I drove a car from the embankment at 80 miles an hour, sober.

I turned the wheel and took my hands off and just watched the ride.

I wake up in a hospital at St. Clair's.

Doctor says to me, it's your wife.

She's on the phone.

I take the phone.

She said, what are you trying to do?

Commit suicide, like a good alcoholic.

Yeah.

You should have died, click.

And this is the truth, before man and God.

I was laying there on that table, and I'm standing underneath that examination light, and I had my second experience.

This one was not like the first one.

No Jesus came out the clock, no singings, no nothing, no illumination.

I didn't get none of that.

What I got that night was the most clearest and most crystallist thought I ever had in my whole entire life.

I mean, when I think about it, I start to get emotional and fired up inside, because I still remember the feeling.

My head was absolutely clear.

I mean, you ever hear those meditation tapes where you get the water and everything?

I mean, that's how clear my mind was.

And this thought that came across my mind was, if you're to stay sober, it's between you and God.

So her statement of, you should have died, had no weight.

All of the pain and stuff over the years didn't matter at that moment.

I needed to stop doing what I've always done.

I struggled for about another two months trying to stop.

On June 10th, I come home and my wife and kids ain't there.

Now check this out.

I've been coming around AA for 14 years and never knew that AA's birthday was considered on June 10th.

I didn't know that until what, I think you told me, didn't you?

Yeah, I used to always tell that story.

I think it was Gene or one of the guys told me at the meeting.

Did you know that's AA's birthday?

Huh?

So my wife and them leave.

So I pick up and I call the insurance company.

Insurance company started calling all the rehabs and detoxes in the local area and nobody wanted me

because I done been there more than once.

You know, and they felt that I was pretty much hopeless.

You know what I mean?

We talking about a person that been coming in and out of rehabs and detoxes for 14 years.

Who wants to put up with me?

So what end up happening, my insurance company calls around and they found a program for me in California.

And I fly out to California and I got there a little after midnight on June 11th of 1994 and I haven't drank since.

The big book that I bring in here tonight with me has been with me since that day.

I end up going in this program with everybody up to the psychiatrist who's a recovering person.

The little games I used to play at the other rehabs didn't work here.

They set breakfast at 7 o'clock.

We suggest that you be there.

I come strolling in at 7.15.

Y'all ain't gonna feed me up in here.

They said, well look, if you don't like it, you can leave.

Okay.

So lunch would be served at 11.30.

I was there at 11.20.

They started me on the road.

I ran into my first sponsor there.

His name was Alton.

And Alton was involved in a group similar to this one.

Big book orientated group.

They believed in the steps, the traditions, the concepts.

They were active.

And I asked this guy to be my sponsor.

He was going to meetings like in South Central L.A., Santa Ana, Costa Mesa, Fountain Valley, Southern California.

And we were going to some of these hard meetings where the Mexican boys was at.

And they were sober, man.

These guys were like real gangbangers.

I wasn't too far from a real gangbanger myself, so I felt right at home.

And I was watching these guys, and they were talking about the big book of alcoholics.

Now, I tell this story a lot because it's one of my most happiest moments because it was the first time I ever succeeded in being told the direction and then getting the work done.

And what happened one night, Alton had gave me, when I got to the detox, Alton and his group would always come by there and give out big books.

And most people who know me know that I'm not much of a public reader.

I don't like public reading, but I will.

I'll read in a meeting or whatever.

But he had gave me that book, and we're going to the speaker meeting that night.

And we're walking in.

I got my book, you know, because I'm serious now.

I'm serious.

I got my book.

Alton's my sponsor.

I'm ready.

We're walking towards the meeting, and Alton said, What's on the cover of the book?

I said, Alcoholics Anonymous.

Alton said, What is it?

I said, Oh, man, that's the place where people go, you know, man, talk about their problems and stuff.

Alton said, When we get in the meeting tonight, you sit there with your book in front of you and keep it closed.

And I had to sit in the meeting while everybody had their book open and sharing with my book closed, staring at Alcoholics Anonymous.

And Alton said, When you can tell me what Alcoholics Anonymous is, then you can open your book.

I've been coming around AA for how long, y'all?

14 years.

I don't know what Alcoholics Anonymous is.

And Alton, every now and then, hit me.

What is Alcoholics Anonymous?

You know, you come there, right, and you, and, and.

So one day I go to a discussion meeting, just like most AA formats.

First time in my life I ever listened.

A person come up, and they said, Could someone please come up and read what is AA?

And I went.

And the first thought came to my mind, and they said, Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their spirit and strength and hope with each other.

And I went.

And I went up after the meeting, and I said, Can I get a copy of that?