.

I was young, I was a wino on the street for two years, in mental hospitals about forty times, and in jails about as often. It got so bad, the AAs didn’t want me, ‘cause I had used them so many times. I was even barred from the hospital at the end. I’m grateful that this past Christmas I didn’t have to sleep outside in a back alley where it was twenty below zero. In fact, I’m grateful to be around at all. On one of my drunks, while on skid row, I passed out on top of a railroad trestle and was run over by a freight train. When I came to, the only thing I thought of was whether my wine bottle was busted.

      In January, I had my third anniversary. Now, we see a lot of younger people and other people who didn’t have to go down as far as I did, and I’m glad. I just wish that everyone knew about AA, but a lot of people still don’t. Putting the Preamble in the paper might help someone else someplace else. We put the AA central office phone number at the bottom, and they got some calls.

      W.C.

      ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS

Homeless Bound

      November 2008

      It was August 1977. I was homeless and facing life in prison. With thirty-five cents in my pocket and nowhere to live, my options were very obvious: jail, the streets, or death. I was also suffering from liver disease.

      I had just spent the night at my sister’s home in Queens, New York. My mom had snuck me in; I had been thrown out of a close friend’s house the night before; I’d fallen asleep with a cigarette and nearly burned his house down. He threw me out and asked that I not return.

      In my semi-blackout, I made it to my sister’s house. I woke up at about six in the morning. I looked up at a figure in front of me and realized it was my sister. Before I could even think, she told me I would have to leave. “I don’t trust you, Richard,” she said. I was not welcome there anymore.

      This was devastating. Where was I going to go? I had burned every bridge I had. I’d hurt all the people and friends who’d tried to help me.

      In just a few minutes, I was walking out the door to my obscurity. I had no destination at all. I had a bag full of soiled clothes as dirty as the ones I was wearing. I weighed 135 pounds soaking wet.

      Then my bottom came. I didn’t hear the storm door close behind me. I knew my mom was watching, and my heart was breaking more and more with each step I took from her. I didn’t want to look into her eyes. I didn’t have any more room for pain. I was dead inside, scared of everything. I turned and saw her looking, and we both cried. We knew this was not going to be easy for me.

      I walked about a mile, to a luncheonette where the owner knew my sister. He saw that I was strung out, and he made me a milkshake. He also gave me a pack of cigarettes. I sat pondering what I was going to do with my life. I had no strength to go back to the old neighborhood, I was too ashamed to ask anyone for money to get a drink, and I didn’t want to, anyway.

      It was humid, hot, and just downright ugly. I wanted to lie down and cry. I was alone and scared to death. How could this happen to a twenty-three-year-old boy? That’s right, I was still a boy. Alcoholism had been killing me since my birth. My older brother had gone to this place called AA. Maybe they can help me, I thought.

      In a few minutes, I’d dropped a dime into a pay phone; I wound up in a meeting that afternoon. The miracles—too many to mention—began with that call. I was a rarity when I came into the rooms. I had a heroin addiction, and I was the youngest man in the group. Back then, they didn’t accept that easily, but no one judged me. I respected the Traditions, and they healed me back to life.

      Within five years, I was free of all criminal charges. I have been sober twenty-five years. I have achieved more than I ever thought possible in my life.

      RICHARD D.

      LONG BEACH, NEW YORK

Nothing Left to Lose

      March 1997

      “I spilled more than you ever drank,” said a man with three years of sobriety and three million grey hairs. My alcoholic mind used that phrase to excuse my next drunk. I was fourteen years old and thought I was too young to be an alcoholic. I’m sixteen years old now and know alcoholism has no minimum age requirement. I realize that many fellow AA members have lost homes, marriages, and children to alcohol before I acquired any of those things. But I lost enough.

      I drank for the first time when I was ten years old. I looked and acted sixteen at the time. I was a lot taller and more mature than the other kids. When I was drunk I could be any age I wanted. By the time I was eleven I’d do anything for any guy who would buy me a bottle. I was hanging out with twenty-year-old hookers by the time I was twelve. That was when I was put into a treatment center. I spent thirty days there learning the right answers and looking forward intently to my next drunk.

      During the next year I never went anywhere without a mug full of whiskey and cola. Somehow I wasn’t picked up for prostitution or driving under the influence without a driver’s license. I was usually the designated driver because I was the only one who wasn’t passed out by the time everyone had to go home.

      Again, I was put into a treatment center where I spent sixty days. There I was introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous. No way was I going to spend all my time with those old fogies. They were all over twenty-five! After my sixty days of patience, I once again went out and got plowed.

      During the next six months I remember three days. Those three days were filled with suicidal thoughts that I was too scared to fulfill because I thought I’d go to hell for all the people I’d hurt. Once again I was placed in a treatment center. Once again I got drunk. I realized I might have a problem when I drank all of my friend’s beer and was throwing up on his shoes.

      Thanks to my many trips through treatment I decided once again to try Alcoholics Anonymous. I didn’t have anything to lose. I did what people told me to do: went to ninety meetings in ninety days, got a sponsor, started to work the Steps, and read the Big Book. My sponsor said this was “willingness,” but I preferred to call it “going to any lengths.” I now have almost a year in Alcoholics Anonymous. I love to spend time with the people in the Fellowship whom I used to think were “old fogies.” Every day I thank my Higher Power for them and their acceptance of me.

      And occasionally, when I meet someone who says they spilled more than I ever drank, I politely reply, “Perhaps if you hadn’t spilled so much, you would have gotten here sooner.”

      SUNNY B.

      BOUNTIFUL, UTAH

The Only Failure

      Dear Grapevine, March 1981

      I’m a twenty-six-year-old alcoholic and drug addict—and very grateful I came back to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.

      I found out early that I couldn’t drink like other people. Since booze caused so much trouble, I decided to experiment with drugs. For the next ten years, I mixed booze with drugs and landed in some pretty sordid spots—jails, hospitals, the street.

      Four years ago, I was introduced to AA. I was going to learn from your mistakes and learn how to drink decent, like most other people. At twenty-two, I could readily admit I had a problem with alcohol and that my life had become unmanageable. But to take never having another drink of booze? Never! It’s taken me four years to learn that I don’t take that first drink today.

      I’m grateful that I still have my family, health, and youth. And after this last slip, I’m grateful for AAs who told me that the only failure in the program is the failure to come back.

      V.L.

      TEXAS

Someday I'll Be Cured

      January 2003

      When I look at what my life is like today