WE'RE TALKIN' LIFE...OR DEATH

A LESSON: REMEMBERING "JIM"

My memory for the following post was triggered by Mary C's Friday blog. I still hesitate to publish this, But "THE COMMITTEE" says--GO:

Ya know, when you have lived in the halls of Alcoholics Anonymous for a good number of years, certain true stories accumulate in the old memory bank. Many of these chronicles are beautifully wonderful (as in "full of wonder") instances of God's gifts. Too many others are tales best forgotten, unless a useful purpose emerges to make them worthy of recall and repetition. The following might be one of those:

Early in my sobriety, I became aware--suddenly--of the seriousness of our disease and the fearful responsibilities we have inherited, and ..."no matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others." (BB Page 84)

One Friday night at a Speaker-type meeting, a brand new guy was at the podium, I do not remember just how many hours and/or days had expired (bad word) since his last drink. However, I and other newbies were anxious to hear his talk, since HE was sober about as long a time (or short a time) as ME! (Identify...remember?).

His deportment was very poor, in the minds of some--well everyone--and he barely audibly introduced himself, really not knowing what else to say to the group of about forty. He grunted and grumbled a few words, nervously laughed in a shallow manner to hide his discomfort, and after three minutes had passed, just stood there all fidgety, almost dumb struck. Another minute or two of nothing (seemed like longer) passed.

Shaking still, a foul odor emanating from his self, he sort of blubbered (like me) and sounded like a idiot (like me). Ya see, I could RELATE AND IDENTIFY (who cares which?) with this poor soul, who vaguely knew what was expected of him, but through those glassy-wet eyes, did NOT see what was happening in the room. The folks were becoming quite impatient, waiting long seconds for the next unrelated word to reach their auditory nerves, as their grumbles and complaints began to reach HIS auditory nerves.

Well, he stumbled out of the room in tears. I guessed that people were waiting for him to soon return, because no one followed him. And me, I just figured it was par for the AA course, ya win some, ya lose some. To quote from someone's (MC!) Friday (yesterday's) blog, "Oh hell, what do I know?"

Well, Jim--I'll call him--never did return that evening. And from what I was allowed to hear, by standing near the clusters of AA people during successive meeting nights, a friend, who opened Jim's front door the morning after his first "AA talk", found a gun lying on the floor--right next to Jim's very cold, very dead, hand.

So sorry and so sad to post this episode of my AA remembrances, I yet (in my own sick mind?) somehow suppose that this IS a part of my E S and H. I'm so certain that God welcomed Jim into Eternal bliss that very day. And I pray that someone--even if only me--learned or relearned a lesson this day.

On The Other Hand..... "Oh hell, what do I know?"

Somewhat Sorrowfully posted, by Steve E.