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Source: Tom J – Finding Hope and Rebuilding a Life – Chicago 1965.mp3 File: tom-j-finding-hope-and-rebuilding-a-life-chicago-1965.mp3 Duration: 01:11:37
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We've come reluctantly and sadly to what is the last session of this great conference. And I'm sure it must be obvious to all of us that none of this is possible without the efforts of so many people. With most of us it was a matter of just coming in and sitting down and taking from this. But so many of you have done so much so that I and all of us can share our strength, hope, and experience that we can do something about taking or not taking drink number one.
A person who had a great deal to do with much of this is Frank L. And without saying anything further about him, here is Frank. Thank you, Bill. Hi. My name is Frank L. and I am an alcoholic. First of all, before I give my thanks to this conference, I have a telegram to read sent to us yesterday morning. Intergroup Conference McCormick Place, 2030 Lake, Chicago. My thanks for your encouraging message and my regrets that I am unable to attend the conference.
The work being done of great importance and that it is being effectively is a fine testimony to all who are enlisted in it. Best wishes for a most successful meeting. Richard J. Daly, Mayor of the City of Chicago. Well, greetings fellow members and friends. I thought you might be interested in knowing that the registration is registered at 900 to attend this weekend at McCormick Place. And I, along with a lot of you, I'm sure hate to see the drawing to a close.
But time moves and so do we. And soon the fifth Intergroup Conference will take its place along the ones that have gone before. As a wonderful example of how to make the most of free hours our finest hours. I am very glad to have this opportunity to thank you all for making this conference possible. We know that we are not alone in any of our AA endeavors. And a weekend of this kind certainly takes many, many hours of thought and prayer and preparation of all kinds for many people.
We have become a part of one another's lives this weekend. Our lives, our present lives and God willing for the future too. We have laughed together and cried together. And you can't ask much more of an AA meeting than that. We have all heard the animated statement read. I believe that the aim of all the work and all the support can be summed up in that one sentence. We hope you will hear something you can take away with you and use.
Each of you will make your own judgment on how this conference did in reaching that goal. As for me, I must say, mission accomplished. To our wonderful speakers and to all members of the conference committee, and to all you here who have come to make this weekend of fellowship and greater understanding possible, our sincere thanks for all you have done. We are grateful to all. And I was kind of worried for a long while on who the co-chairman of the 1966 conference will be.
But thank God he's a duly elected conference chairman and Ed R. of the South Intergroup will take the helm next year for this conference. And I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
[00:05:01]
I am ever so grateful. May God be with you. Thank you. Thank you very much, Frank. I made a grave omission for myself in not stating who I am. I'm Bill A. And as one of my AA friends says, I'm sober today through the grace of God and AA. I don't know our speaker personally. I met him just a few moments ago. He has a real AA bonus going for him, though, a real benefit. Some of these things have happened to us as a result of being able to come in here and partake of some of this.
He has his fiancée with him today, Kathy, who I don't believe has heard him before in this particular setting. And I'm sure he must feel a great deal of joy about this. So I give you Tom J. of Toronto, Canada. Thank you very much, Bill. Hi. My name is Tom J., and I'm an alcoholic. And although I respect the fact that this is an anonymous program, I always like to say that the J stands for joy. It just means fitting an AA.
It is a pleasure, of course, for me to be here today, as it is to be to every AA meeting, because, of course, as every AA in this room knows, that AA becomes a very important part of our life and certainly a very wonderful part of our life, especially wonderful to be here in such beautiful weather. And I feel very good. But I am, of course, here to do what AAs do all over the world many, many times each day and night, and that is to share with you, my fellow alcoholics and friends of AAs, some of my story, story of my life, certainly some of my hope, and possibly some of the strength which I have gotten from this program.
I only hope that somebody will get something out of what I have to say that can strengthen their own program. I would like to say before I start that one must, of necessity, build their own AA program. I have learned to respect the rights of other people to have their particular programs. I think this is one of the wonderful things of this program. It certainly is a democratic one. I've always watched with amazement of people staying sober, and some of them with greater odds than you could ever dream of.
But I, of necessity, have had to build my own program. I came to AA looking for a blueprint, and I found it. And from that blueprint, and with the continual help of AA, I have a program that has kept me sober, and I hope it will continue to keep me sober. So therefore, things that I have to say are certainly my program. I respect the right for you to have your program, and I only ask the same from you.
I think in AA that each time you get up and speak in AA, or for that matter, every meeting you go to in AA, your outlook on AA and certainly your outlook on life changes considerably. But I would like to go back to my early youth. I grew up in St. Catharines, which as many people in Chicago know, it's because we produced a lot of hockey players for you. But it's about 90 miles south of Toronto. Speaking of Toronto, I bring with me greetings from my group, which is the Hill Group in Toronto, which is a very, very large group.
And I can assure you all the AAs in Toronto these days are very, very busy getting ready for the conference in July. And if you have never been to Toronto or have never participated in AA in Toronto, I'm sure that you're in for a very, very pleasant surprise. Toronto is a wonderful city, and I'm sure that you'll find the hospitality of the Canadian AAs at its highest, and we're looking forward to having as many people there as possible.
But as I say, I grew up in St. Catharines, which is 90 miles south of Toronto, in a small town. And I grew up raised by good family. I think we always bring these things up, and at first in AA I often wondered why. But it seems natural for people who are stopping by to see whether this program has anything to offer them. They're always trying to figure out, and I was, what makes up AAs? What's an alcoholic? What are they? Are they different?
[00:10:02]
Well, I think that we all have to go back and sort of relive our youth and relive portions of our life to establish the fact that we're very, very normal people. Surprisingly enough, I know that at first and many times in our own life that we doubted that ourselves, but we are normal individuals. And I grew up, as I say, in a good family, certainly one of not outstanding means, but a happy family. My father's an alcoholic, but I believe I would be deceitful to my father and I would be lying to myself if I said that that had any particular effect in my life.
I don't really believe it did. I have brothers, I have a brother and sisters, and they have no problem with alcohol. I was very, very ambitious when I was young. I wanted more than anything else in the world to be successful. I was obsessed with the fact that I wanted to make a success out of myself. And I was willing to do most of the things that are required of someone who wants that. I was willing to work hard and I was willing to educate myself.
So really, I think that if my story proves nothing else, it will prove to the if people. So many young people in AA, and as time goes on, I guess we all grow out of that category, but I guess I would be riding short of the average now. So many of them come into AA with the reservations and the ifs. If the wife would get off my back, I could stop drinking. If I could get my bills paid, I'd stop drinking.
If I had a better job, I'd stop drinking. If, if, if. Well, I think my story, if it proves nothing else, will prove that you can have most of the material things, you can have most of the things that young people dream of, you can have all these things, but if you're an alcoholic, they won't do you an awful lot of good. So I will, in the course of my story, tell many things that happen to me that are good.
I have found that there were two periods in my life. There was a period in my life when I thought that everything I did was good. There was a period when I didn't think there was much wrong with me. And then I found a period of my life where I thought that everything was wrong with me and that there was absolutely no good. So I have learned through AA that I must, of necessity, look upon my life somewhat the same as a balance sheet.
I must look at the good and I must look at the bad and I must correlate. And so in the course of telling my story today, I'm certainly going to tell you some of the good things that happened to me. And as I always say, don't think that I'm bragging because as the story goes on, my ice cream cone starts to melt. When I was 18, I'm an American by birth of Canadian parents and I went back to Canada when I was very, very young and forgot all about being an American.
And I settled down in St. Catharines and went merrily on my way, but I was reminded in 1948 that I was an American because I got my draft called. So I went over to Buffalo to find out what it was all about and to discuss it with them. And I decided to go in the American service and primarily I went in because they had a lot to offer. They were talking about GI bills, they were talking about this, they were talking about that.
And I wanted to go to college and I saw that this was an excellent way in which to get a college education. So I went in the American service. And I was in the service for five years. And during that period of five years, I spent four years in Europe. And the reason I stayed in was so long that I went in in 1948, if you remember, the Berlin Airlift caused them to start drafting again. And then the Korean War started and I got extended, so my two years went into five years.
As I say, I spent four years in Europe. Now really I don't have anything to report of any distinction during my five years in the service. I didn't distinguish myself in any manner and at the same time I didn't really get in any great amount of trouble. I was typically an average soldier. I got my promotions in an average manner and I enjoyed most of the things that young soldiers enjoy. During my four years in Europe, the only thing that I can remember is that you certainly start liking to move with the drinkers.
I had started to drink before I left St. Catharines probably when I was around 16 years old. Now I don't really know my first drink. I can't remember my first drink. I don't necessarily remember the circumstances, but I started to drink when I was 16.
[00:15:03]
Now, I can remember in AA all the various types of drinkers, the weekend drinker, the baby drinker, this type of drinker, that type of drinker. Well, I don't know what kind of drinker I was, but I never decreased my drinking from the time I took my first drink. I increased my drinking until I stopped drinking. And I can never remember a period other than when I was hospitalized of stopping to drink.
I just never stopped drinking during, say, 15 years of drinking. I started drinking, I think, because it was the thing to do. I wanted to be wanted. All my life I have wanted to be wanted. And I think that I started to drink because it appeared to be the thing to do. I often say that in the early stages, it gave me the courage to pinch the girls and punch the boys. But when I got to Europe, I just continued on.
It was a different atmosphere. I was away from home. I was on my own, and I continued on. And during four years in Europe, you think back of these things, and up until just recently, there was very little funny things that I could remember about my drinking. I used to come to AA meetings, and even speak quite often in AA, and there was nothing funny about my story, and still really isn't. Because I never wanted to be a drunk.
And all the, during the time that I was drinking, I never liked it. I hated it. I hated being a drunk, and I never liked being a drunk, and I didn't think anything that I did when I was drunk was funny. So I find it very, very difficult, and I hope as time goes on, I'll start seeing a lot of the humor, and I think this is true, out of some of the things that I did. But I found that when I was in Europe, that I wanted desperately that my family would know that I was traveling over Europe, and that I was seeing all the various things in Europe.
And I can remember every day getting a book out of the library in the shrines of Europe, and I'd go to a cozy bar, and I'd sit down, and I'd write some of the most beautiful letters home, telling about all the wonderful things in Europe. And I also remember, pardon me, I also remember in Europe, right after the war, that a tremendous amount of Americans were being shipped home, bad conduct discharges, for murder, for rape, and all the capital punishments.
And I can remember I was down at the court where they were shipped out working, and I used to see these people in these unfortunate circumstances, and so often, and probably the greatest percentage, were drunk when these things happened. And I can remember saying to myself so often, if drink or booze ever got me into that position, I would quit. I said it so often. Well, as you know, when I got into that position, I couldn't quit.
And I think that brings out something that I remember probably as strongly as anything, and that is that all through my life, I was able, and possibly things that I say were, probably are. I don't know how much I have changed. I think I've stopped drinking, and I think AA has given me a foundation which to build. But I don't necessarily say all these defects of character and all these things that happen when aren't still with me.
But I can remember all my life, I could never connect myself with anyone at a station of life that I didn't want to be at. I simply could not walk down and see a drunk in the street and never connect myself with that person. Now, mind you, I could walk up Madison Avenue in New York, and I could see an executive coming out to get his limousine, and I could connect myself with him. I simply was unable to be a realist.
I simply could not face back. I simply could not ever sit down with myself and say, Tom, here's where you are. And so this was really how I started what I like to believe is my alcoholic lie to myself. By this time, I was transferred back to the States, and I went to Fort Dix, New Jersey. I was in the service at Fort Dix for a year, and really I have nothing dramatically to report on that period of time.
It was just like so many other moves, my method changed, my companions changed, the type of liquor I drank changed, but really nothing within me changed. And I was in the service for a year there, and during my period of time in Europe, I went to college at night. Now, lots of times I wonder why I did that, but I think that I just had time to do it. It didn't interfere. I could run to the bar after work and have four or five drinks.
I could go to school at night, and I still had plenty of time after I got out of school to do a lot of drinking, and it didn't bother me, and I could get up in the morning. And when I got back to the States, after a year, I got discharged. And I had planned to go back and finish a year of college when I got out of the service. But I was offered a job as a civilian at Fort Dix, New Jersey.
[00:20:01]
And I can remember at the time starting what became so commonplace for me, and that was rationalizing with myself. I knew that I wanted to go to college. I knew I wanted to go back, and I wanted to finish school. But here was a job offer, and it was the easy way out. It was the one that offered me the least amount of effort. So I can remember saying to myself, well, now, what I'll do is work for a little while, and I'll get together a little bit of money, and I'll do this, and I'll do that.
And that began the pattern of my life, because anything I wanted to do, I could talk myself into doing. I could always sit down, and I could always take the pro and the con, and I could argue back and forth. And I always ended up doing exactly what I wanted to do, and I always justified my actions. And so I stayed at Fort Dix for a year as a civilian. I took off my uniform, and I put on civilian clothes.
I had more money in my pocket. I had more dignity and respect, and my drinking habits changed accordingly. So the only difference was that I upgraded my companions, I thought at the time. I changed the type of liquor I was drinking. I could afford to drink more whiskey than beer. And so all these things changed. But really, I didn't really change, nor did I really grow up. After a year at Fort Dix, I worked for a man who I'd been with in Europe, a military officer and a senior one.
And he had brought me from Europe to Fort Dix, and I went out of the service and worked for him as a civilian. And by this time, he was being transferred to the Orient. And he asked me if I'd like to go along as a civilian working for the Department of Defense in the Orient. And I can remember at the time saying, well, no, this would be fine. I just don't think I'm doing the right things, and maybe if I move on.
It was always the things I was going to do. I wanted to get into politics. I wanted to do this. I wanted to do that. I wanted to do this. And all these things I will do when I get out of this environment I'm in now. When I make the next move, I'll do all these things. So I always looked forward to the next move, because I always thought all the things I was doing wrong today would automatically go out the window with the next move, that I'd get straightened around and started right.
So I thought going to the Orient sounded fine. And another reason, he said to me, and of course to an alcoholic, and I think really at the time I was an alcoholic. I never get in any great discussions on this. I can remember when I first came into AA, we used to sit around at night and figure whether the blood caused you to be an alcoholic or whether your eyes, and we'd all be nuts. And about 2 o'clock in the morning, you almost went and got drunk worrying about what made you an alcoholic.
So I've kind of thrown that out the window, and I really don't know why or how or when. But I guess I was an alcoholic from an early age, because I think that the traits that I hear alcoholics have, I know them to have for myself, were certainly with me for a good period of my life. So I think one of them was that I was always trying to get around authority. I always thought I was really smarter than the pack.
I thought that the rules were written for others and weren't necessarily written for me. And I can remember him telling me that if I went overseas, that I could get promoted much quicker, that the rules of civil service didn't apply to overseas posts. So I could do this and I could do that, and that appealed to me. So I thought, well, I'll go to the Orient. And he said that it would take five or six or seven months to get the job set up for me, that he was going on over, and that he would call for me when he was ready.
So I decided to go out to the West Coast, and out I went to Los Angeles. Well, after a very short period of time in Los Angeles, I realized that I had to go to work if I was going to live the way I wanted to live in Los Angeles. So I got a job working for one of the airlines in sales. And this was sort of a new experience to me, and we worked with a lot of the studios out there. And I was a country boy from St. Catharines, and all the glamour of the big city, and the excitement appealed to me.
And I can remember, I got introduced to expense accounts, and that was certainly a new experience for me. And I got introduced to cocktail parties, and this is really something that my life had never encompassed before. We never had cocktail parties where I came from, that I know of. And really, all this was opening up a new world for me. And I must admit, it was a pleasant one, because at this time, I was sort of looking at the stars.
I was pretty well convinced that I was way ahead of the pack, and it was just a matter of time before I was going to be a most successful businessman. And I started to think of all the things that you had to have to reach this. And certainly one of them was that you had to be a sophisticated drinker, you had to be a rounder, you had to be able to mix socially. And I thought that this was so important to my life.
And I can remember when I landed out in California, going to the cocktail parties and how I liked it,
[00:25:01]
and how proud I was learning how to mix the right Manhattan and the right martini. Oh, and I thought, well, this is certainly a plateau. And I learned other things in California also. I can remember up until this time, when I used to wake up with a hangover, and certainly anybody who starts drinking at 16 has had many a hangover. I thought, well, all you had to do with a hangover is just sweat it out.
You woke up, you didn't feel right, you sweat it out until 5 o'clock. You certainly never drink during the daytime, because this is the honor code. You just sweat it out, and at 5 o'clock you go in and you have a drink, and you feel so proud of yourself. But it was just part of it. If you were going to dance, you had to pay the fiddler, and a hangover was just part of the hardship. Well, I can remember in California, we all lived in a group of apartment houses.
And one morning I woke up with a hangover. And as I say, it certainly wasn't the first one. I'd had many before, but it was one, and it was a good one. And a friend that worked with me out there came in the apartment, and he said, boy, you look bad. And I said, I feel terrible. Now, I might say now, and it certainly increased as my drinking went on, but a lot of people have various problems in hangovers.
Well, one of mine, and certainly my main cause, was shaking. I shake when I'm sober, but when I'd come off a drunk, I'd do the rumba. I shook all over. And I started at a very early age. So out in California, they suggested that maybe I should have a morning drink. And I said, a morning drink? Well, I have to go down to the office. What do you mean a morning drink? He said, well, look, you're certainly in terrible shape, and I think you'd do a lot better if you had a drink and straightened around.
So I thought, well, this is all right. So I took my little drink, my morning drink, a couple bouncers, and I belted it down, and it did exactly what it was supposed to do. Boy, I felt like the Rock of Gibraltar. My stomach stopped shaking, and my hands stopped shaking. And I thought, well, isn't this the most marvelous thing? All these years that I had woke up and suffered with a hangover, and all you've got to do is have a couple of shots in the morning, and you'd feel like a million dollars.
And I can remember going out in that day thinking, well, isn't this marvelous, and how smart I'd been. And I felt like a million dollars that day. Boy, I was right on the bit, and I didn't have any nerves in my body, and it was the most marvelous experience. Well, that introduced me to the morning drink. Now, I can assure you that the morning drink became a very, very, very important part of my life for a good number of years afterwards.
Now, by this time, I got my call for the Orient, and away I went. And I went to a place, and I always, in Canada, go to great lengths to explain where Okinawa is. But, of course, in the States, I'm among Americans, and you know. But I went to Okinawa, which is a large military base in the Orient. And I was in the Orient a period of six years. And during that period of time, I think, certainly, my drinking went from a crawling alcoholic to a running alcoholic.
Now, I don't really know whether I became an alcoholic quicker than I would have if I had been back in a small Midwestern town. I don't know these things. I really am grateful that things came to a head as quickly as they did because, certainly, my life has been a happier one since. But when I got to Okinawa, here I was getting off the boat, and there are about 45,000 Americans there and about 600,000 Okinawans.
And it seemed that the only hobby there was on the island was drinking. And I certainly thought, well, isn't this a wonderful place to be? Everything about it appealed to me. I thought it was just the most marvelous place. And for some reason or other, and I'm sure so many of you have been out of the country, for some reason or other, there's a freedom once you get out of the country. There's sort of a freedom that we live by that so often I've talked and so often I've talked to people about it.
But for some reason, we're great conformists, that really we live a certain line because it's expected of us. And the minute we seem to get away from our neighbors and authority of our own country, a lot of the rules go down. A lot of the freedoms that you've always wanted seem to exist and you feel that you're right to take them. And I think this was the feeling that so many of us had in the Orient.
And I started right off the bat becoming a very, very heavy social drinker. Now, that meant, as so many of you know, that I, at this period of time, drink didn't particularly bother me in my work. I worked hard and I was fairly successful in my work. But every night I would be at the club and I would probably get half drunk. and I'd go home, and I'd wake up in the morning, and I'd take my morning drink, and by this time, it may have been two or three or four or five ounces, but it was whatever was necessary to get me started, and I'd go, and I'd do my job. It didn't have any particular effect on me. No one criticized me for drinking too much. In fact, I think that to many, uh, many eyes, it was an asset. Uh, I was, uh, I was, uh, always entertaining, and I enjoyed it, and I could rationalize that it was helping me.
[00:30:23]
And this was really how my tour of duty started in the Orient. Now, after a very short period of time in the Orient, uh, about a year and a half, the man that had brought me to the Orient and had given me what I was promised said, well, now let's go. I've been transferred back to Washington, and pack your bag, and away we go. You've got your grade. Now you can go back. I've got a year or so left, and I'm going to retire, and you're pretty well set up.
Well, this is what I should have done. But once again, I liked where I was. I liked the freedom I had. I liked all these things, and I started to rationalize. Why leave? I can stay, and I can save a little bit more money. I can do this, I can do that, and I can do this. Well, I realize now that I was really scared to leave. It's a hard thing. If anybody had told me that at the time, I would have just laughed at them. But I believe that I knew that I was gradually giving up something. I was gradually losing something, and I didn't want to leave. I had the shelter of being overseas.
And I said, no, you go on back. I'm going to stay for a period of time. And I can remember him saying to me, you think you're drinking too much. And that was the first time in my life that anybody had ever suggested to me that I was drinking too much. And I can remember being shocked and hurt, and I was indignant to think that he would even suggest it to me. And I thought of it so often, of how my first reaction was indignant. I was mad. He had touched the nerve. So after he left, I decided that I'd leave the civil service, and I went to work for a large merchandising organization.
And during that period of time, I was very successful with this organization. And my last two or three years in the Orient, I was director of operations and had many people working for me. And I traveled a tremendous amount. Now, I tell this because all these reasons are important to me now, because they have proven to me that these things can't keep me sober. Money in the bank can't keep me sober. Authority can't keep me sober. Prestige can't keep me sober, because I've had it, and they didn't keep me sober.
In fact, all they did was give me an argument that I wasn't an alcoholic. How could I be in trouble when I've done this, this, this, and this? How could I be an alcoholic if I can get up in the morning and put a clean shirt on and a press suit and I have money in my pocket? How can I be an alcoholic? Alcoholics don't operate that way. Alcoholics are in gutters. But that's not true. And so, during this period of time, I did a lot of things. My drinking, by this time, had increased to the point that it was no longer taking a drink in the morning to stop some shaking, it was taking a drink in the morning to stop some going crazy.
It was getting up in the morning and needing a drink to get into the shower, and needing a drink to get out of the shower, and needing a drink to shave, and needing a drink to have a cup of coffee. And then about that time, you were just able to get out of the house. And then about 10 o'clock, you'd need a drink because the early one was wearing off. So, this was my life. Now, I say certain things that are almost shocking. Number one, I simply didn't believe that I had a problem.
Now, mind you, when you get up and you're about 24 or 25 years old and you sit on the end of your bed and you drink a half a bottle of gin in the morning, you don't figure you're an all-American, but I simply didn't think I had a problem. I felt as strongly as anyone can feel that I was able, or would be able, to stop this. I would be able to stop it. When I went back to the States, I'd be able to stop it. And I kept on thinking this, and every time I'd weaken in my thoughts, I would say, well, look, is it bothering you? And actually, it wasn't bothering me an awful lot. I was doing my job, and I was working probably harder as a result of it. So, it really didn't have any outward effect on me.
Now, certainly, you know and I know that it had a lot of effect on me inside, because you can't hide from yourself. You can kid everybody else, but you can't kid yourself. You can hide it, you can cover it over, you can do all these things, but you simply can't run from yourself.
[00:35:14]
Now, I can remember I started to add certain things to my life, and it always seemed when I was traveling, I used to travel a tremendous amount, and certainly funny things, and these are things that are beginning to be funny to me, is that when I'd get up in the morning, I was always scared of not having a drink available. I used to think, wouldn't it be terrible, and I think this was psychological more than anything else, but the thought of being caught somewhere without a drink was just terrifying to me.
And I'd get up in the morning, and I was like a chemist getting ready to go to work. I'd have little aspirin bottles full of brandy, and I'd have big aspirin bottles full of gin, and I'd have them in this pocket, and I'd have them in coat pockets, and I'd have them in briefcases, and I'd have them anywhere that I could possibly get caught. And I'd have little bottles for little toilets, and big bottles for elevators, and I'd have them so any time I got into any circumstances, I could always reach for one of my little bottles. And I can remember the worst experience of all was getting on an airplane, and as I say, I traveled a lot by air in the Orient, and the one time that I could never figure out was you get on an airplane, and you put your belt on, and then there was that terrible ten minutes where no one knew.
And I used to think, oh my God, the more I thought about that ten minutes, the harder it got. So I can remember having a pen made, and the pen was completely empty inside, and it held exactly two ounces of brandy. And I used to say that that was my traveling pen, because that would always get me over the period of time when we were strapped into our seat belts. So I can remember another time when I was in Tokyo, and I was with a friend of mine, or a fellow who worked with me, and also a friend, and I woke up in the morning with a hangover. And I went, and by this time I really didn't care who saw me drink in the morning, it really didn't matter. I was usually too sick in the morning to worry about what was happening around me.
So I started with my morning drink, and I couldn't get straightened around. I simply was unable to get myself straightened around. And I can remember him saying to me, boy, you're in bad shape. And I said, I certainly am. He said, have you ever tried tranquilizers? And I said, no, I haven't, but I'd swallow a sword right now to stop me from shaking. And with this, he reached into his pocket, and he pulled out a little bottle of miltown. And he threw them over to me, and I read the description as best I could. And it said to take two before and two after, or whatever it was, but I decided to get three or four out. And I threw these in my mouth, these little white magics, and within two or three minutes, I felt like a million dollars.
The shaking stopped, and my stomach got feeling so wonderful, and I thought, well, isn't this the most marvelous? But now I have found a way that all I gotta do is get up in the morning, instead of going through all that routine, all I gotta do is get a couple of those little white pills and shoot them in your mouth, and you feel like a million dollars. Well, it wasn't very long after that that tranquilizers became very, very important to me, because then I was taking tranquilizers just as many as you could count. And then you'd lose count of how many you'd take. And you'd start out in the morning, and you'd have your drinks in the bedroom in the morning. To get out, you'd be taking four or five tranquilizers with it, and then besides taking your little aspirin bottles full of brandy, you'd decide that what you better do is take a few tranquilizers with you.
So then you'd be scared that you'd take too many. And you'd put five in this pocket, and five in that pocket, and you're kind of always scared that you'd take too many, and then about 11 o'clock, you'd forget how many you took anyhow. And so, this was the situation I was in. I really didn't think I had a problem. I truly felt that this was the circumstances in the Orient, and that when I left the Orient, that I would be able to return to a normal way of living. I was absolutely convinced that I would be able to do this.
Now, I was on a trip once again, and I was in Hong Kong, and it seems, as I said earlier, that I got all my problems when I was away from Okinawa. But I got off the airplane, and I'd been traveling for a week or so, and I was in bad shape. I was sick, and I was tired, and I was beginning to realize that maybe I did have a problem. And I got off the airplane, and I could never remember being as sick as I had up to that time. And I went to the hotel, and I mustered all the dignity that I could muster, and I called the house doctor, and I said, could I see you? And he came up, and he met me, or I met him at the door, and he came in, and I started to tell him who I was and how important I was.
[00:40:00]
And, doctor, I've traveled a lot this week, and I haven't been eating properly, and I've been drinking too much, and I've kind of lost control of myself. Is there something you can do for me? And I can remember thinking very hurriedly, as an alcoholic always does, that I better tell him about those tranquilizers, because he's allowed to give me something that'll kill me with those. So I said, now, I did take a little white pill. I believe they call them tranquilizers or something like that. But they didn't do me much good. And with this, he opened this little black bag, and he gave me a shot in the hip. And he said, now, lay right down and go to sleep. You'll get a wonderful night's sleep, and I think this will take care of you. Well, it did. It stopped me shaking, and I felt like a million dollars again.
And I went out that evening and had a wonderful evening. And somebody said, well, didn't you go to sleep? And I said, time, that energy, and that little shot, that stopped me from shaking. It didn't have anything left to put me to sleep. But anyhow, I went out, and the next morning, I went down to the doctor and told him how smart he was and how wonderful it was to have meet him, and that he did exactly something for me that everybody had failed to do. And when he gave me one more, and right down here, exactly what you gave me.
Well, after a long conversation with the doctors, and I often think the doctors, because I thought for a long, long time I was fooling them. I thought that they all were taken in by my chaos to them. And I realized later that really they weren't. They were just trying to get rid of you. I can remember talking to a doctor one time, and he said, they taught me in medical school to stay away from drunks, because all they'll do is break your heart, and they won't pay you.
And I thought that there was a lot to that, and I think that a lot of the doctors that I thought I was fooling really weren't fooled. They were just trying to get rid of me. Well, that was my third addiction, and it wasn't long after that that I was getting shots in the morning to straighten me around. Now, here I was with my tranquilizers and my booze and my shot in the hip, and once again, I really didn't think I had any great problems. I thought that I'd be able to get rid of it, because I was absolutely convinced that this could not happen to me. I was absolutely convinced that everything I had tried to do in this world I had done. This couldn't happen to me.
Now, I started to tell myself that so often. I started to repeat it so often to myself that I'm sure I started doubting it right then and there. But about that time, I got promoted and sent back to New York. Now, everyone always says, my goodness, how in the world could you ever get promoted? Well, the people I worked for would see me about twice a year, and they'd come over to the Orient on inspection tours, and I'd meet them at the airplane, and I'd entertain them for three or four days. Now, let's be honest, an alcoholic would be pretty good at that, because they just named it, and I got it for them.
They saw me under these circumstances, and we'd go around, and as I say, I had excellent people working with me, and things were going along fine, and at the end of four days of partying, they'd say to me so often, boy, I'll bet you'll be glad to see us leave, that you can settle down. Well, they didn't realize I was slowing down when they were there. So, they decided that I'd go back to New York, and I can remember the man that I worked for in the Orient was a very, very fine person. He said to me at the time, he said, Tom, do you think you're ready to go back to New York? And I said, well, why? What do you mean, ready to go back to New York? Certainly, I'm ready to go back to New York.
And he said, well, you do drink a lot, don't you? And I said, sure, but this gets a problem. This is the damn Orient. Who the hell doesn't drink over here? And I get out of here, I won't drink. I'll get back with normal people, and I'll get involved in church groups and this and that, and I'm going to stop doing this thing. Well, he said, don't you think you should take a rest before you go back? And I can remember being very indignant to this fine person. I was mad at him. I was jealous. To think that he's jealous of me, that's why he's doing this and he's doing that, and I've seen him so often since. And we've laughed about it. It's kind of shocking to us when we find somebody interested in us just for the simple reason that they're nice people.
And so I decided that I would take a long trip back, that I'd take a month and a half or two months getting back to New York, and I'd get myself straightened around. And I can remember when I left Okinawa after all the going away parties, I firmly and honestly believed that this is what I was going to do. Well, I started that, and I'd lock myself into a hotel room here, and I'd get rid of all the booze, and I'd do this and I'd do that, and I simply couldn't stop drinking. I got to Hawaii, was the last stand after hitting every other place, and I can remember locking myself in the room at the Hawaiian Village.
[00:45:01]
And I said, this is the last stand before I get to the States, and I've gotta stop drinking. And this was the worst terrifying experience that I've ever had, because it brought out the fact that I couldn't. I simply could not stop drinking. I can remember locking myself in the room for day in and day out, me crying and me praying, and just, why me? What in the world have I done? And I simply could not stop. I could not pull myself together, and I simply could not stop drinking. No matter what the circumstances were, I couldn't stop drinking.
If I emptied the whole room and said, well, there's nothing in here, I've gotta go without it, I'd be bribing a bellhop at three o'clock in the morning to get a bottle. I simply had to have a drink. Now, at this, I came back to the States, and I started going to my, what I call my jitter joints. Everybody I'd meet, I'd say, look, I have a friend of mine, he's a very important executive. Do you know any place where they have the cure? And I always ended up in there. They seemed that all these jitter joints are brooks. Holy brook, happy brook, shadow brook.
And I ended up in most of the brooks. And I'd always walk in with absolute desire that maybe this was it. And of course, they'd feed me full of vitamins, and they'd stop me shaking, and about thirty feet, we'd be plotting where we're gonna get a bottle snuck in. And this was the existence. So I got back to New York, and I lasted New York for nine months. There's no significance to that, it's just that I lasted there nine months.
And during that period of time, I got to the office, I would say, four months. Now, the rest of the time, I'd lay in my hotel room. I got off, I can remember, coming into New York, and I decided I'd come in by train. I thought that the train trip, but mind you, I hadn't been able to get sobered up for five years, but for some reason, I felt that a train trip into New York would sober me up. So I got off the train, and I walked over to the Governor's Clinton Hotel in New York, and I said, I'll check in, stay overnight, pick up a paper in the morning, find out where this apartment is, and rent an apartment.
Well, I never got out of the hotel for nine months. And during that nine-month period, many times, I'd lay in my hotel room for weeks on end. I had found myself in a position that I knew I was in trouble. There was no question about it at this stage of the game. I knew I was in trouble. I'd go down to the office, and I'd lie, and I'd, every time they'd meet me in the hall and say, what's wrong, I've got the Asiatic flu, I've got this, I've got that, I've got this.
No one dreamed that I had an alcoholic problem. And I simply could not bring myself to tell anyone. I was unable to tell my family, I was unable to tell anyone that I had this problem. I simply could not bring myself to admitting to anyone that I was in this jail cell. Now, I don't know why, but it seemed that it would have been an admittance to myself that I had failed. And I simply could not tell anyone. And I'd lay in this hotel room and go through all the agony that an alcoholic goes through, laying day in and day out and day in, watching those lights flicker.
I simply could not go to anyone and talk to anyone. And I did everything that I could think of during that period of time to stop drinking, and nothing worked for me. I tried every human agency known, and nothing worked for me. I simply could not stop drinking. At this time, they decided New York wasn't the place for me, that maybe I needed some Midwestern air. And so they decided that I'd go to Omaha, Nebraska, to the Offutt Air Force Base and have the exchange there. And I got out there, and I lasted there two months.
And I had the option of going out there and taking a leave of absence, but I simply could not take a leave of absence. I couldn't admit to anyone that I was with, but I knew it was in myself. I can remember in New York, and I think of these things because these are the things that I must remember. I can remember getting a call from the office that I had to come down for some reason. You've got to be here tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock. You've got to be here for, even if it's for 15 minutes, you've got to be here. And I can remember getting up, and by that time everything would be out of my room.
And I can remember walking down to 8th Avenue and having a drink poured in me by the bartender. Just stick my head over the bar and let him get a couple in me. Just to get me down to the office. By this time, as I say, I went out to Offutt Air Force Base, and I was there for two months. And during that two months, I was in quicksand. I knew I was slipping. I knew it was just a matter of time. It was just absolutely a matter of time before the whole wall fell.
But I was fighting desperately against that day coming. I desperately did not want that day to come. And I did a lot of harmful things during that period of time. I hurt people. I did things that really I hadn't done up to that time. I started to do what we all do.
[00:50:07]
When we run out, you know, it's easy to say in this world, I didn't hurt anybody. Well, I didn't hurt anybody because no one got in my way. I didn't hurt anybody because no one had to get hurt. But I found out that I was no different than anyone else. That I would hurt just as hard as anyone else would hurt if the time came that I had to hurt. Because it was survival. It was absolute survival. And after two months, I was up at a meeting similar to this at Offutt, and I passed out. Boom. And everybody thought, well, he had a heart attack. And they're calling for the ambulance. Well, on the way to the hospital, I went into alcoholic convulsions.
And they started to clean out my office and opening up the drawers, and they realized that they had a drunk in their hands. The empty bottles, and they realized they had a problem. And I got with my alcoholic convulsions, and I went into D.T. Now, this was a new experience for me. I hadn't done this before. So I got to the hospital, and they kept me there for three days. And at the end of three days, they found me walking around the parade ground in the middle of the winter without much on, and they decided that this wasn't a place for me. Now, what I had done, I knew that the day was coming, so I had removed all record of where I came from or who I belonged with because I didn't want my family to be hurt.
And after three days, they decided that they couldn't keep me there, so they called in a panel of doctors and had me committed to the mental institution in Nebraska. So here I was. They wheeled me off, and I woke up one morning tied down to a bed in a mental hospital. Now, my whole career had gone. Everything that I had wanted in my life had gone. I had lost my job. I had lost my self-respect. I had lost everything that was important to me. But yet, I was happier waking up that morning than I had been for a good number of years.
I woke up with a smile on my face because there I was, tied down to a bed. Finally, finally, I no longer had a lie. I no longer had to be something I wasn't. I no longer had to wake up and pretend that I was a young business executive on the rise when I knew I was nothing but a weak drunk. I was absolutely relieved. I was happy. I no longer had to compete. I no longer had to get up in the morning and compete with people that I was beginning to hate. And so at that moment, in that mental hospital in the Midwest, I gave up.
I simply ruled myself out of the human race. I no longer wanted to live. I no longer wanted to be a part of the human race. I no longer wanted to fight any longer. I simply wanted to be a vegetable. Just leave me alone. And I can remember saying over and over again that I had tried everything. I had tried prayer. I had tried hospitals. I had tried everything known to man. And none of it worked. And now here I was, so I no longer wanted to fight. And I stayed there for a month or so, and I rejected all therapy.
I didn't want any therapy. I really didn't reject it. I didn't care. I just kind of just went along for the ride. I didn't fight with anybody. I just didn't do anything. If it was 8 o'clock, you wanted to see me, I'd be there at 8 o'clock. And you wanted to talk to me until 9 o'clock. I didn't really care. I didn't argue. And this was the most frustrating thing for the psychiatrists because they'd look at my file and they'd say, boy, we really got one to dig into here. We want to find out what all these things are. And they thought this was a wonderful one to write a book on. But they couldn't get much because I didn't really care. I just didn't really care what happened.
And every morning I'd wake up. I really didn't care that I woke up. I didn't care whether I lived that day. And when I went to bed at night, I really didn't have an awful lot in my mind. I just had sort of an empty feeling. And at this, they checked me out of the hospital. They found that they couldn't do much for me, and they suggested that I go home. And I can remember the panel of doctors and the way out saying to me, they said, when you came here, you came a broken man. And you're going out a broken man. You have no desire. You have no will. And you've got to be something about it. Well, I listened and I shook my head and I left.
And I came back to my family in St. Catharines. Now, I believe that this was probably the most difficult thing that I had ever done. My family were immensely proud of me. My mother and father were very, very proud of me all my life. And here I came back. I was less than 30 years old, and I was absolutely a broken human being. I was a shell of a man. No desires, no ambitions. I had nothing. I was a vegetable.
[00:55:11]
And I often say that I'm lucky, luckier than most, because I know most of us love our parents and most of us have many happy things to look upon our home life. But I'm luckier than most because I tested my family under every circumstance. And I can remember coming home and my mother and father brought me into their home. And I stayed in my bedroom for a short period of time, walk out of my bedroom, for a year and a half. I simply didn't want to go out. I simply didn't want to live. I simply wanted nothing.
And for one year and a half, I stayed in my parents' home, and during that period of time, I dealt seriously whether anybody asked me really what was wrong with me. My mother has often said, since. She's often said, I wasn't worried. I had faith. She said, I just had faith. You're surprised that Tom's sober now? I'm not. I had faith. Just like to her, it's not even worthy of discussion. And this was what I came home to. And during the year and a half, I'd get up and I'd go out and I'd get drunk and I'd come home and I'd stay in my bedroom for a month or a month and a half. And maybe I'd decide to go up and pick up a New York Times at the corner and I'd go up and pick it up and I'd come home for three days and then come back home and stay in my bedroom for a year and a half.
I simply didn't want to live. I had no desire. People would come and talk to me. People would offer me jobs. People would do this. People would do that. I simply did not want to live. Now, at this stage, in my last boat, and thank God, the last drink that I had was a weekend. And after that weekend, I came home and it was about midnight. Now, I have a cousin of mine, Bob D., who's been in AA for a good number of years. Now, Bob knew that I was in trouble, but Bob also knew me. I had worked for Bob when I was going to school. And Bob knew that I had to come to Bob. Bob couldn't come to me.
So, one night about midnight, I came home and I reached for the telephone and I called Bob. And I said, Bob, I'm in trouble. I need help. Now, that doesn't sound like an awful lot, but that was the first time in my life that I could ever remember telling anybody that I needed help. And Bob says, I'll be right over. And Bob came over at midnight. Now, we often wonder why I made that call then. Why would I allow myself to fall as low as I possibly could fall? Why would I allow myself to lose my job, my career? Why would I allow myself to be in a mental institution? Why would I allow myself the indignity of living off my parents for a year and a half?
Why would I do all these things? I don't know. I think possibly I do know now that that was what was required of me. Now, I believe that when Bob came over that night, he was telling me a little bit about AA and he bought a few booklets. Now, I don't remember what Bob said, but I knew that Bob being there and the fact that I had said that I wanted him there was the start of something for me. So, Bob said to me, Tom, I will give you some more literature. I'll do this and I'll do that.
So, the following morning, I woke up and I had a hangover. And I had a bad hangover. And we have a liquor store right across the street from our home that opens up at 10 o'clock. And I said that I'm going over. I said to my mother, I'm going over and pick up a bottle of liquor because I'm shaking and I'm sick and I believe if I can get a drink this morning, I'll get myself straightened around and I'll read some of this literature that Bob left.
And I can remember my mother saying this. The first time I could ever remember saying this, she said, don't. Please don't. And that didn't matter. And I realized that. Now, I'm so glad that that one time happened because lots of times I hear alcoholics in AA, married men who have gone through and subjected their families to terrible things and I'm glad that that happened because now I can realize that no matter how much you love the person or how much the person meant to you, you simply weren't able to do it for them.
And I started walking out the front door of our house and Bob decided to take the day off. And in walked Bob. And Bob is about 280 pounds. And Bob says, good morning, Tom, how are you? And I said, Bob, I'm sick and I feel terrible and I'm going to walk right across the street to the liquor store and I'm going to pick up a bottle of liquor and I think if I have two or three drinks, I'll get myself straightened around.
And Bob says, fine, I'll walk over with you. But he said, before we go, let me ask you a couple of questions. He said, last night when I came up to see him, we were talking, he said to me that you wanted to stop drinking. Is that true? And I said, Bob, I want to stop drinking more than anything in the world.
[01:00:04]
Well, Bob said, if that is the truth, then there has to be today. There simply is no way around it. There has to be today. Now, he said, if you'd like to try to make it today, we'll jump in the car, we'll go down to my cottage, and we'll listen to the grass grow. So I said, well, at this point, I'm too sick and too tired to argue. So I said, well, fine, I jumped in the car, and we went down to their cottage in McNab overlooking Lake Ontario, and we sat, and we did listen to the grass grow.
And I was sick, and I was terrible sick, and I begged him for a drink, and the more I begged him for the drink, the more he talked, and I begged him to get Dr. Dean to give me a shot, and this one, and that one, and the more I did all these things, Bob continued talking. And Bob did certain things that kind of horrified me, but at the same time, I realized now are so important to our program. He started to share some of his strengths with me.
Bob started to tell me some of the things that he had done when he was drunk. And, you know, this is the most amazing thing. Here was a cousin of mine, much older, that I had worked for, and he started to tell me things that he did when he was drunk, and I thought, how in the world could he ever tell me these things? And I could remember the more he had talked, I started to tell him a few things. Now, mind you, I didn't really get into the closets or anything, but I just started, I started to throw a few things out.
And then that communication of two alcoholics started. And this was the only thing that took me through that day, because for the first time in my life, for the first time in my life, I had found somebody that I could sort of talk about this with. I sort of had the idea that they maybe knew what I was talking about. Up until this time, it was sort of foreign to everyone. No one could understand why you'd get yourself in this state.
Yeah, you get the young guy, shake their head, and get with it. What do you mean, I'm drunk, and I'm all grim? How can you get yourself straight in that situation? Well, Bob suggests I go to an AA meeting that night. And he couldn't take me, so he sent a fellow by the name of Johnny A. after me. And Johnny A. is probably as dead opposite that I am as anybody in AA. And John is a close, close friend of mine today, and has been a wonderful friend.
And Johnny came to pick me up. I'd never known Johnny before in my life. And I've been waiting, as we all do in our first AA meeting. If the meeting was at 8, I got ready at 3. And walking up and down, and sweating, and thinking, who am I going to meet, and who's going to see me? And I don't know. The funny thing about me, I was the proudest when I had the least to be proud of. So anyhow, John came to pick me up, and he knocked at the door, and said, are you the guy going to the AA meeting?
Right, I thought, this is an awful way to come in. So I said, yes, I am. And he said, well, let's go. I'm in a hurry. And down the stairs, I go, and I jump in the front seat of his car, and I get started. And of course, John tells me later, he's got a complete briefing from Bob. And so I get started with all the trying to stop shaking, and I reach over, and he said, I'm Tom J.. He said, now let me tell you something before you go any further.
He said, I'm a laborer up here in the paper mill. And he said, I just came home, and I was tired tonight, and I had a fight with my wife. Now, he said, I don't care who you are, whether you're rich or poor, whether you're smart, whether you're dumb, I simply don't care. All I know is that Bob said there was a drunk up here that had to get down to a meeting, and I'm here to deliver you. So look it, buddy, don't try to impress me.
And I said, I was horrified to think this fellow. Why, my God, didn't he know who I was to come in here? And he said, now let's get going up here. And he said, look, and I said, oh, you're sick. Who the hell, you wouldn't be coming if you weren't sick. What do you think we are? You don't think I roller skated in, do you? So we get to the meeting, and in we go. And it was probably the smallest meeting in the history of AA, because I walked in, and there's about six or seven people standing there.
None of them I knew. And they walked over, and they threw out their hand, and they said, welcome. Welcome, Tom. How are you? And I said, well, I don't know, and I'm stigmant all over. And they said, well, we know you're sick. We were all sick when we came here for the first time, and just sit down and make yourself at home. And he said, don't worry, if you're sick, you can sit on your hands, lay on the floor, do anything you have to have to say.
And remember one thing, you're among friends. You're among friends. We know you. I thought, well, how do they know me? They've never seen me before. But they knew me because we know each other. We know each other. And I sat that first meeting, and I walked out, and I don't know really what happened at that meeting that night.
[01:05:01]
But I went home. And ladies and gentlemen, when I went to bed that night, I had a little spark of hope. I had just the littlest spark of hope that anyone could ever have. But that was all I needed. That was all I needed, was just a little spark of hope that maybe, maybe this program could do for me what it has done for others. Maybe it could give me the wonderful feeling that that Johnny A. had. Maybe it could make a phony into somebody like that.
I can remember Johnny A. saying to me something that I'll always remember. He said, it doesn't matter whether you come from Park Avenue or a park bench, a drunk's a drunk. And it was so true. And when I went to bed that night, it was the first night in a long time that maybe I didn't close my eyes, hoping that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. Because I woke up in the morning with that little spark of hope, and this wonderful thing of AA started to live for me.
The people picking me up for a morning meeting, and an afternoon meeting, and a night meeting. No one asking you whether you wanted to go. Horns blowing all over. And they'd drop me off and they'd have another one. And I went to more meetings. I became a professional AA. I just went to meeting, after meeting, after meeting, after meeting. But let me tell you something. After every meeting, that little spark of hope grew a little stronger.
And that spark of hope got a little, little bit bigger. And I knew that maybe if I could continue on with this program that I would find this type of happiness. And I was at a meeting one night and I came home with my sponsor, Bob D.. And I said to Bob, Bob, what do they talk about sponsors? At this time I knew that everything I had done in my life, I hadn't done hard enough. I took for granted. I wanted to take, but I didn't want to give.
And I can remember saying to Bob, what do they mean by sponsors? What do they mean by sponsors? And Bob said, you've got to find somebody that you can trust. You've got to find somebody that you can go to. Somebody who will be around when you need them. Somebody you can talk over your problems with. And just about that time we drove up to the front door of our home and I got out. And I walked up and it was about 11 o'clock at night.
And I can remember picking up the big book. And I opened to Bill W.'s story. And I read his story as many times as a human being can read a story like that. From 11 o'clock at night until the following morning, when the dawn was coming through our living room window. I read it over and over and over and over again. And when I closed the book, I had my program. I had the program that I have today. I was convinced without a shadow of a doubt, to my satisfaction, that Bill W. couldn't have started this program.
I was absolutely convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that that hopeless drunk could no more have started a program that would have kept a quarter of a million people sober. He had laid in a mental hospital as I had. He had tried to stay sober for 24 hours and 24 years and couldn't do it. He had tried everything and he could not do it. So I resolved to my satisfaction that Bill W. did not start this program.
I said to myself, Bill W. was only the human instrument, you, that there had to be a power greater than a human being. And so I resolved in my simple way that morning, that this program was started by a power greater than a human being, who I choose to call God. I believe that God, and I hope you won't accept this as being facetious, was sitting up in heaven, and with all the problems of the world, he looked down one day and he said, we've got to do something about all these drunks.
And he kind of thought with all his wisdom, he knew that this was the only type of thing that was really going to do an awful lot of good, because he had seen all these other things work. So he looked down and he said, but I've got to have somebody down there to get it started. So I believe he found a man who he thought, or I should say knew, had what it would take to do it. And I think that 30 odd years later, he certainly has proven that the choice was a wise one.
And he gave this Bill W., withering in some hospital, the strength and the wisdom to generate the human element of this program.
[01:10:03]
So on that morning when I stood there, I was absolutely convinced that my program is simply this, that I knew that morning why I was in AA. I knew that my power, who I call God, allowed me to fall, allowed me to lose my job, allowed me to go into a mental institution, allowed me the indignities that I went through, because that's exactly where I had to be. That's exactly where I had to be if I was going to accept that program.
And I am absolutely convinced that as long as I follow the ground rules of this program, and certainly the ground rules of my own conscience, that I will be allowed to stay in this program. So I can say to you now, and I say it with all the sincerity in my heart, that I welcome the opportunity to come and speak to you people, the human element of AA. I can go into the quietness of my bedroom, and I can thank my higher power, God, for what he has given me.
But I welcome the opportunity to talk to you people, the human element of AA, because ladies and gentlemen, without a shadow of a doubt, my higher power, who I choose to call God, and you people have allowed a young man to once again walk in dignity, and have given me back my life. Thank you.