At this, the first anniversary meeting, it is indeed my distinct pleasure and privilege to welcome an out-of-town speaker whom we’re all anxious to hear from. Holly has traveled some considerable distance from Detroit, and I know that we are all looking forward to her message. It is therefore with much happiness that I introduce to all of us Holly M. of Detroit, Michigan. As I stand here before you this morning, something came to my mind that was sent to me a month ago, and it came to me at this particular time because it seemed so real. You don’t have to tell how you live each day. You don’t have to tell if you work or play. You don’t have to tell if for others you live, not for what you can get, but for what you can give. And if you live close to God’s infinite grace, you don’t have to tell it. It shows in your face. And I have seen that, and I see that here this morning. Now, we all know why we are here this morning.

We are here because someone, somewhere, at some time or other spoke our language, regardless of what that language was. It reminds me so much of a little story that I heard many years prior to coming into AA of a little fellow that was quite incorrigible, and he lived on the opposite side of the track with his mother. He’s a very, very stubborn youngster. And his mother had taken him downtown one day, and she said, “Now, son, please don’t ask for anything because I have no money.” He immediately got in the toy department, and he fell in love with a little wagon. She said, “Now, son, you have to get out of there. I don’t have any money to buy it,” and he just simply sat right there. And the store manager came over, and he says, “Oh, madam, don’t be alarmed.” He says, “I can get him out. We have a child psychiatrist on the floor, and he understands children.” So the psychiatrist came over. Pardon me if there’s any in the audience.

And he handed the child such gibberish as a psychiatrist can hand one, and the child simply sat there. In the meantime, a clergyman walked up, and he says, “Oh, I can get him out.” He says, “Now, my dear boy, if you don’t get out of that wagon, the bed– the bad man’s gonna get you.” All the time, his mother’s still praying, and he still sits right there. He ignores the clergyman. Then there is a physician on the floor, and he came over, and he said, “Now, son, if you don’t get out of that wagon, you’re going to die. It’s been sprayed with a deadly chemical,” and he simply sat right there. It meant nothing. Now, in the meantime, there was a lowly, illiterate janitor on the floor who saw the commotion, and he came over. And he says, “I understand that child. I live on the same street he does, and I speak his language, and I can get him out.” And they thought, “Now, here are three men of letter. What can this illiterate janitor do?” He said, “Well, let me try,” which he did.