Charming Is the Word for Alcoholics

AA Grapevine® - Our Meeting in Print Online July 1944 Vol. 1 No. 2
Down at the very bottom of the social scale of A.A. society are the pariahs, the untouchables and the outcasts, all under-privileged and all known by one excoriating epithet--relatives.

I am a relative. I know my place. I am not complaining. But I hope no one will mind if I venture the plaintive confession that there are times, oh, many times when I wish I had been an alcoholic. By that I mean that I wish I were an A.A. The reason is that I consider the A.A. people the most charming in the world.

Such is my considered opinion. As a journalist it has been my fortune to meet many of the people who are considered charming. I number among my friends stars and lesser lights of stage and cinema; writers are my daily diet; I know the ladies and gentlemen of both political parties; I have been entertained in the White House; I have broken bread with kings and ministers and ambassadors; and I say, after that catalog, which could be extended, that I would prefer an evening with my A.A. friends to any person or group of persons I have indicated.

I asked myself why I consider so charming these alcoholic caterpillars who have found their butterfly wings in Alcoholics Anonymous. There are more reasons than one, but I can name a few.

The A.A. people are what they are, and they were what they were, because they are sensitive, imaginative, possessed of a sense of humor and an awareness of universal truth.

They are sensitive, which means that they are hurt easily, and that helped them become alcoholics. But when they have found their restoration, they are still as sensitive as ever; responsive to beauty and to truth and eager about the intangible glories of this life. That makes them charming companions.

They are imaginative, and that helped to make them alcoholics. Some of them drank to flog their imagination on to greater efforts. Others guzzled only to black out unendurable visions that rose in their imagination. But when they have found their restoration, their imagination is responsive to new incantations, and their talk abounds with color and light and that makes them charming companions, too.

They are possessed of a sense of humor. Even in their cups they have been known to say damnably funny things. Often it was being forced to take seriously the little and mean things of life that made them seek escape in a bottle. But when they have found their restoration, their sense of humor finds a blessed freedom and they are able to reach a god-like state where they can laugh at themselves, the very height of self conquest. Go to the meetings and listen to the laughter. At what are they laughing? At ghoulish memories over which weaker souls would cringe in useless remorse. And that makes them wonderful people to be with by candlelight.

And they are possessed of a sense of universal truth. That is often a new thing in their hearts. The fact that this at-one-ment with God's universe had never been awakened in them is sometimes the reason why they drank. The fact that it was at last awakened is almost always the reason why they were restored to the good and simple ways of life. Stand with them when the meeting is over, and listen as they say the "Our Father"!

They have found a Power greater than themselves which they diligently serve. And that gives a charm that never was elsewhere on land and sea; it makes you know that God Himself is really charming, because the A.A. people reflect His mercy and His forgiveness. ~ Fulton Oursler

Central Office Notes

AA Grapevine® - Our Meeting in Print Online June 1944 Vol. 1 No. 1
May 1st was moving day for the Central office into larger quarters on Lexington Avenue near Grand Central Terminal, a much more accessible spot to out-of-town visitors. (New address--P.O. Box 459, Grand Central Annex, New York 17, N. Y.) We are already national in scope and certain to become world-wide. Hence this seems a most appropriate time to explain what the Central Office has been doing, and how well the Trustees and its staff have managed. Being somewhat responsible for the creation of the Central Office, I feel I have never made enough effort to let everyone know just how much it does.

Actually the Central Office belongs to all Groups everywhere; it is your good-will and financial support which makes it possible; it is one of your main contacts with the general public and it is one of your principal means of carrying the 12th step of the A.A. program to untold thousands of alcoholic sick people who don't yet know they can get well. In matters pertaining to the office, the Trustees are your Service Committee; its Secretary is your National Secretary.

In the month of March alone, for example, the work turned out by the secretary and her three assistants (including some overtime) was as follows: 1--They wrote 2,695 personal letters. Approximately 2,000 of these were answers to first inquiries of alcoholics and their families averaging 100 words each. About 400 letters were written to the groups, mostly group problems. The balance was miscellaneous. 2--Six hundred telephone and telegraph messages. 3--About 100 out-of-town A.A. members visited the office. 4--Something like 400 bookkeeping entries. 5--Over 5000 A.A. pamphlets and 672 A.A. books, about a ton of material, were wrapped and shipped. 6--A detailed monthly report was made to the Trustees. 7--In addition, the Secretary participated in several conferences on future publicity and spent a week on the road visiting six of the A.A. Groups with which she corresponds.

A small but very willing staff of four turned out this large volume of work. Our Central Office has nearly always been understaffed. Our condition right now is such that a good piece of publicity would throw us weeks behind on those vital first inquiries. We should have more help--perhaps two more typists before long.

About the offer of A.A. pins to the membership--those pins supposedly designed and approved by me! The offer was made by Royal Incentives, a perfectly reputable firm, which was sold a "bill of goods" by an alcoholic who has had a rather hectic A.A. career. Of course I knew nothing whatever of this deal. Royal Incentives, recognizing the mistake, is sending all groups a letter of explanation and apology.
Bill W.

YESTERDAY...TODAY AND TOMORROW

AA Grapevine® - Our Meeting in Print Online July 1945 Vol. 2 No. 2
(Editor's Note: Several readers of The Grapevine have expressed particular appreciation for a short article which appeared in an early issue,
and have written to ask about its authorship. The Grapevine editors do not know, and so we reprint the piece which has proved inspiring to many already. Do you know who wrote it?)

THERE are two days in every week about which we should not worry, two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.

One of these days is YESTERDAY with its mistakes and cares, its faults and blunders, its aches and pains. YESTERDAY has passed forever beyond our control.

All the money in the world cannot bring back YESTERDAY. We cannot undo a single act we performed; we cannot erase a single word we said. YESTERDAY is gone.

The other day we should not worry about is TOMORROW with its possible adversaries, its burdens, its large promise and poor performance. TOMORROW is also beyond our immediate control.

TOMORROW'S sun will rise, either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds--but it will rise. Until it does, we have no stake in TOMORROW for it is as yet unborn.

This leaves only one day--TODAY--. Any man can fight the battles of just one day. It is only when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternities--YESTERDAY and TOMORROW that we break down.

It is not the Experience of TODAY that drives men mad--it is remorse or bitterness for something which happened YESTERDAY and the dread of what TOMORROW may bring.

LET US, THEREFORE, LIVE BUT ONE DAY AT A TIME.

She Said

Impact at Acapulco

AA Grapevine® - Our Meeting in Print Online Volume 26 Issue 10 March 1970
TWO DAYS alone in Acapulco had been fairly successful. I had sold a couple of small paintings, had had some sun and swimming, and was eager to get home to my Mexican wife and our nine-year-old daughter. It was just dark, and I hoped to be home in an hour. I rounded a curve, going about fifty-five. Suddenly, a huge bull stepped into the road less than 100 yards away. Gripping the wheel and braking hard, I braced myself for the impact and dove into darkness. . . .

I learned later that several cars stopped, but the drivers thought I was dead and drove on. The 1.000-pound bull was killed and thrown thirty feet. Without a seat belt, I had a fracture of the fourth lumbar vertebra and cuts and contusions on the head from broken glass.

I've now had seven weeks to think about the accident, and to learn to accept it. (There was no guilt or feeling of inadequacy involved, since anyone can get clobbered hitting a cow around any curve in Mexican mountain driving.) In the first couple of weeks, as I stared at the wall or the ceiling, the Serenity Prayer was of great help. I did not indulge in such hindsight as "If I had not stopped for a hamburger, I wouldn't have hit the bull." No, just as I had accepted and learned to live with hepatitis seven years before, when I was in bed for two and a half months. I lay quietly and took this.

Actually, the hepatitis had been harder to take. I'd been sober ten years, and it seemed hardly fair for my liver to give out and almost kill me now. Of course, I had almost died twice of cirrhosis when drinking, so my liver had had a bit of mileage on it.

This time, friends were wonderful. An AA phoned from Mexico City offering money if I needed it, and a man I'd sponsored a year before drove my wife to the scene of the accident and helped with the insurance adjuster. On the But for the grace of God side, a Mexican alcoholic with six small children was in the hospital with me. He was not there for drinking; both legs had been amputated because of a circulatory ailment. (An old friend who helped start the Cuernavaca AA Group with me eleven years ago is trying to get a wheelchair for him.) Also in the hospital. I met a French missionary priest, who was delighted when I told him of AA and that a Spanish-speaking group was available. He had been one of that group of worker-priests in Paris who were widely known about ten years ago for helping drunks and derelicts.

A couple of weeks later, the padre came to visit me in my home. He brought two Mexican alcoholics looking for help, and then occurred one of those miraculous "coincidences" we learn to expect in AA. I decided to call Eddy, the Mexican-American who was keeping the Spanish meetings going, and just as I was dialing his number, Eddy himself walked into my bedroom with his wife. Then and there we had an informal AA meeting for the prospective members.

At the hospital, acceptance had been made easier for me by the example of a Carmelite nun, who radiated health and joy in life and service. We had good talks, even though I communicated in splintered Spanish. She showed me again that when one has a sense of dedication and vocation, life is given an extra dimension. Her serenity and goodness made this Presbyterian minister's son thank God that he was an artist who had come through the valley of the shadow of death and alcoholism, and now was not only doing what he had always wanted to do with his life, but was able to pass along a message of life and freedom to the still-suffering alcoholic.

I've had to learn a lot about acceptance in many areas. Two other men and I started AA in Cuernavaca in May 1958. I've worn the hair shirt of trying to keep it alive for more than eleven years, and have had to learn to live with neglect and misunderstanding and with my own misery at seeing alcoholics die in this international resort center, because they wanted no part of our life-giving program.

My Mexican experience has been wonderfully ego-deflating, changing me from a New York AA hotshot and popular speaker to a Mexican peon in the vineyards of the Higher Power. The record of my sponsorship is often depressing, but it is lightened a little because one of my pigeons did start the Spanish-speaking groups in Mexico City, and there are now about sixty. My personal life has been increasingly good, however. My oils, watercolors, prints, and sculpture are now in many museums and university collections.

Out of my hopeless alcoholism, with acceptance of my continuing limitations, has come the gift of the life I've always wanted. The fractured spine is very temporary, but the blessing of this Fellowship goes on and on, with, for me, special emphasis on the First, Third, Eleventh, and Twelfth Steps.

Zorba the Greek put it very well: "When everything goes wrong, what a joy to test your soul and see if it has endurance and courage. An invisible and all-powerful enemy. . .seems to rush upon us to destroy us; but we are not destroyed.

"Each time that within ourselves we are the conquerors, although externally utterly defeated, we human beings face an indescribable pride and joy. Outward calamity is transformed into a supreme and unbreakable felicity."

W. C.
Cuernavaca