13 – The Moon, The Stars & The End of Time - Excerpt from The Seventh Crow, copyright © 2013 Bernie Schultz

 (An alternate version of this story was printed in the AA Grapevine, May 2010, under the title Just Friends. That version was later reprinted in a collection of Grapevine stories called Forming True Partnerships.)

It was Monday and I had to go to the bank. I had just started a new job and I needed to set up an account for direct deposit. I wasn’t too happy about missing my weekly Al-Anon meeting. The bank opened at 10 and the meeting started at 10. The whole process took about 20 minutes. The meeting was about a 20 minute walk from where I was and that would only leave me 20 minutes of a meeting.

I’d been looking forward to the meeting because I had a story I wanted to share with them, about something that had happened to me the previous week. I mentioned that I had just started a new job. It was actually a return to my previous place of employment. I was a clerk at the main branch of the library. My first shift had been on a Thursday. That meant I had to miss my Thursday night AA meeting also. I don't like to miss meetings, but sometimes it can't be avoided.

Just before my first break, I spotted another member of the Thursday night group at one of the tables in the library. I said hello and we chatted for a bit. She was writing a term paper and it was due Friday so she had no choice but to miss the meeting as well. I suggested we take a coffee break and we had our own mini-meeting. She told me about a slogan she had read on the wall at a meeting in the Valley.

If you want something you never had before, do something you never did before. I liked that saying. I had tried for years to sober up, but I never could. It was because I always ended up doing the same things over and over, expecting different results. But this last time I was doing things I had never done and as a result I was getting something I never had, sobriety.

And that’s the story I wanted to share at the meeting. So, even though I was going to be late, I went to the meeting anyway. Maybe I could help someone through the next 24 hours by sharing what had helped me through the last 24 hours. Little did I know the immense change my life was about to take simply by going to that meeting.

The meeting was in the basement of the Lutheran church on the corner of Portland and Hawthorne Street. I often attended an AA meeting there on Saturday nights. To avoid further confusion, I am a member of both AA and Al-Anon. For the most part, I tried to keep the two separate but every one at the Al-Anon group knew I was in AA. There was one woman who had escorted her husband to the AA meeting on Saturday and she also went to the Al-Anon meeting. Her name was Nancy. I never mentioned that I remembered her because I did not want her to be uncomfortable, but sometimes she would smile conspiratorially at me so I figured she remembered too.

I generally kept my distance from the Al-Anon ladies. I figured they had suffered enough from the drinking of their own spouses or relatives and they didn’t need to get to know me too well. So, when the meeting was over I would avoid the hugging and the meeting after the meeting, duck out and head to Tim’s for a coffee before taking in a noon AA meeting.

Life is seldom so uncomplicated.

Nancy stopped me after the meeting was over and asked me a question. She actually said she was going to do something she’d never done before and talk to me. Immediately my ego kicked in and I wondered what does she want that she’s never had? She asked me a very simple straightforward question.

She said, “Can you tell me what it’s like to be an alcoholic? My husband never talks to me about it.” I knew from hearing bits and pieces of her story that their marriage was on the rocks, he left or she kicked him out, the usual story.

Attempting to be humble, I replied, “Why don’t you attend an open AA meeting, preferably a speaker meeting. Then, you can hear a recovered alcoholic tell his complete story.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing your story from start to finish.” She replied.

“Well if I ever manage to stay sober long enough to tell it, I’ll let you hear it. But, seriously, there’s an open speaker meeting at the Club tonight at 8 pm. You could go to that one.” I suggested.

“Oh I don’t know. I’m no good around strangers and I hear a lot of people go to that meeting.” She said timidly.

Jim Dandy to the rescue. “Well I’ll be there with some friends. You can sit with us.”

“Oh? Well, if you’re going, maybe I can drive you to the meeting. We could go for coffee first.” It sounded harmless enough. So I agreed. That’s when I told her I lived in a transition house, that I had a curfew and that if she didn’t have me home by midnight I’d have to move in with her. We both laughed.

The meeting was at 8. Nancy picked me up at 6. Some of the guys were razzing me about it. I assured them it wasn’t what they were thinking. It’s not like that. We were just friends. The interesting part is that we were just friends.

We had a few hours to kill so we went for coffee. We had some polite conversation and some kidding around. I told her what the guys had said and she laughed. I felt very relaxed in her presence. One of us made a comment that we should get to the meeting because this was starting to feel like a date, but it wasn’t a date, or was it?

The meeting was powerful in a spiritual sense. The place was packed. The speaker was very moving. There was lots of laughter, lots of tears, lots of love. Nancy was floored by the whole thing. After it was over, she remarked to me that she felt like she had been hit in the stomach with a 2x4. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or throw up.

The meeting was over at 9. I still had 3 hours till my curfew and since we were having such a great time just being friends we decided to have another coffee and a drive along the coast. Maybe that part was a bit romantic, but it was her idea. I chuckle when I think about that because one of my shortcomings is to pretend I am the pursued and not the pursuer; that way, if things go south, I don't have to accept responsibility for my actions. Oh well, I was a work in progress. I still am.

At this point in my recovery program, I had completed my personal inventory step, which is a self-examination of my behaviour and conduct during my years of active alcoholism. I was shopping around for someone to share my story with. Suddenly, I had a great idea! I could ask Nancy. She had lots of Al-anon time in and she’d just been exposed to an AA talk. I trusted her and I felt comfortable around her, so she was a perfect choice. Besides, once she found out the types of things I had done in my downward spiral, she would think twice about getting romantically involved with me.

I asked Nancy and she agreed and so I told her my personal story. My story took about 2 hours. When I was finished, she thanked me. She said no man had ever been so open and honest with her. There were tears in her eyes and a few in mine too. It was an experience I will not soon forget. And then she told me her story.

Nancy’s story was not as long as mine but it was similar in many ways. We had grown up in the same neighborhoods, we knew a lot of the same people, we drank in the same places, we felt the same feelings, we liked the same types of food and the same music, we both liked dancing. I never realized how much in common we actually had. But, it was because I never really taken the time to get to know her because of my fear of screwing it up.

As her story unfolded, something magical happened. I realized that I was in love with Nancy. I figured I was probably in love with her since the day I laid eyes on her and that no matter what happened next, I would always be in love with her. So, I kissed her. I figured this could go two ways. Either, she would kiss me back or she would throw me out of her truck while it was still moving and maybe run over me as I tried to get away. Well, obviously she didn’t throw me out of her truck.

Later that night, I took Step 6, 7 and 8. They don’t take very long if you do them right. The following day, Nancy and I went to a noon meeting. After the meeting, I told her why I kissed her and after I got up from being down on one knee, we decided we would walk this road together. My sponsor wasn’t crazy about the idea but he liked the fact that I was on step 9 when I proposed, and not step 1 like I usually was. And I truly believe that is why we were so successful in what we set out to do. We had solid programs.

I have always believed that without God in my life and without the program of Alcoholics Anonymous and all that it entails, I would have nothing and I would be nothing, so my program takes precedence over everything else. I was very clear about that. I told Nancy that if she ever got in between me and my program, there would be a battle and she would lose. That’s when she told me about her black belt in Al-Anon. She later became a member of our Fellowship and celebrated 17 years in September.

I remember I said, “I can't promise you the moon or the stars, or that I'll love you until the end of time, because I don't know what I'll be doing at the end of time. I only know what I'm doing today. So I can only offer you that one day. Today. “

That was March 24, 1998. One day at a time has been working just fine.

My solution is gratitude

I'm chairing a meeting today and the topic is chairperson's choice so I needed to come up with something appropriate for anything we might be going through now. With the new restrictions, a lot of us have had to cancel holiday plans and that disappoints and frustrates us.

My thing was not being able to attend the christmas social at the club. I've been to every one since 1997. What's my solution whenever I start to be consumed by self-pity - gratitude. If I can remember all the things I have to be grateful for, it's hard to feel any negativity while I'm doing that.

So, grab a pen and paper, or a keyboard, and write down six things you have to be grateful for. If you are not out of your funk yet, write six more and keep writing until you realize how selfish you've been feeling.

End of the Year always gets me thinking

Tomorrow, I'll be chairing my, well I was going to say my home group of al-anon, but it's actually not my group. I haven't been to my group since the first lockdown, but I've been attending another group on zoom for about 18 months. Being the chairperson doesn't worry me. Done it before and it really doesn't call for a special skill set. It's just another way to express my gratitude.

A quarter of a century ago, I was broken. These meetings I go to help me to put me back together, a piece at a time. I heard an AA oldtimer tell a story once about putting the man back together and as he did that his world came together. Same sort of thing happened with me. It's not the same world I lived in. I think it's a better one.

The end of the year always gets me thinking. Did I do enough this year? Did I change enough? I spoke at a meeting today and I quoted the book, that line about being of maximum usefullness to God and to others? Nancy and I have the community project we do every year. We delivered xmas gifts to 19 otganizations in metro, but surely we could have done 20. Next year, we'll try harder.

April 7 - Acceptance

My sponsor and I went to a meeting a few days ago. One of the topics for discussion was Acceptance. I suggested they try the 12 steps. They were the solution to all my problems.

On the drive home, we talked and I pointed out that acceptance is the basic principle of each step. Other principles embedded in the steps are honesty and humility, but acceptance is the underlying one.

Look at Step 1. "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable." I always get a kick out of those shares that start with, "Well I can admit that I'm powerless but I don't think I've accepted it yet......" Accept is a synonym of surrender. Admit is a synonym of surrender. So is concede, decide, come to terms with, etc. So, it's the same thing said using a different word. I know in one of our books it says that the underlying principle of the first step is that we shall find no strength until we first admit complete defeat. - Surrender.

In step 2, it says, "Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." Surrender/acceptance again.

In step 3, "We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him." That sounds like acceptance to me.

In Step 4, we "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves." Acceptance again. After all, what's the point of making an inventory, of searching out and coming to terms with our defects of character, if we're not going to use it.

In Step 5, we "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs." We already know that to admit and to accept means the same thing.

Again, in step 6, we "Were entirely ready to have God remove our defects of character." We developed this degree of readiness by surrender of our ego, by acceptance.

Further, in step 7, we "Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings." We wouldn't do that unless we had surrendered to, unless we had accepted that he would.

And it continues throughout all the steps. When Little Johnny told his teacher he was having difficulty with math, she gave him math homework.

If you're having difficulty with the practice of acceptance, with the practice of humility, or with the practice of honesty, do your homework. Work the steps. That's what they're for.

Box With A View

 

Chapter 1 - Box With A View

Excerpt from Diary of A Homeless Man Copyright ©2016 Bernie Schultz

I wake at 6 am, feeling only slightly rested. I didn't crawl into bed until almost 2 am. It was cold last night, maybe minus 4. My bed is cold. I am cold. I can see my breath. It reminds me of a time, in my first marriage, when the furnace oil ran out. Sleeping in the basement was like sleeping outside. But I am not in that marriage now, and I am not in that basement. I am in a sleeping bag, in a makeshift lean-to, under the bridge. It is December and I am cold.

I can hear traffic above me, people leaving their homes, heading off to their jobs and people who worked all night, heading home to their warm beds, unaware that I am here, under the bridge. I need to get up, get moving. I don't want to be seen.

I say a prayer of thanks to my creator for keeping me alive one more night and ask for the strength to get through today. I check my hands and my feet for signs of frostbite. Everything seems okay. I get out of the sleeping bag, crawl out of my shelter, stand up and walk around a bit. My knapsack was my pillow. I fish around inside the front pouch and find half a cigarette. A coffee would be nice, too, but maybe later.

I roll up my sleeping bag, tie the laces on it, put it in a garbage bag, and shove it far into the lean-to. I cover it with snow and branches, and then I start my day. It's only 6:30, too early for the AA club to be open, but the cleaner gets there at 7:00, and he will have coffee on. I usually give him a hand with his chores in exchange for a hot cup.

Along the way, I stop at a coffee shop and check the dumpster out back. There is a clear plastic garbage bag filled with half a dozen bagels. I take those and put them in my knapsack. At the clubhouse, the cleaner already has the coffee made. He sits outside, smoking, waiting for me. He gives me a coffee. I share my bagels with him and we make jokes about eating a continental breakfast.

Afterward, we clean up the clubhouse. It's not hard work and it's warm inside. The cleaner gives me a few smokes, we play a game of cards. At 9:00 I head down to the public library, to check the job boards. I used to work there, before everything changed. I hope to get a job there again, but I wonder how I will manage to get shaved and showered if I ever get an interview. At least I wouldn't have far to walk to get to work. That makes me chuckle and I know I'm not beat yet if I can still laugh.

At 11:30 I head over to the soup kitchen to stand in line for a hot meal. I always get there early so I can get in, get fed, then jog back down to the club for the noon meeting. Sometimes, they have donations of breads and pastries. I manage to score two loaves of day-old bread. Something to put between the slices would be nice but it's only Tuesday and the food bank isn't until Thursday.

The meeting topic is gratitude. I share that I am grateful to be sober and alive so that I can face the challenges of day to day life. They know I'm struggling but they don't know I'm sleeping under the bridge. I don't tell anyone. It's only been a few weeks since I stopped drinking and although I am hopeful this time, I still am weighed down by pride. I think a few know what's going on, because they have been where I've been.

The meeting ends at 1:00. I stay to help them clean up. It's warm here and there's leftover coffee and donuts. By 2:00 I am back on the street. I panhandle for a bit, make a few dollars. I use it to buy a package of mock chicken at the store. Sandwiches for supper is better than no supper at all.

I wander the streets until 6:00 then I head over to the club. There's a meeting at 7:30 so I help them set that up and in return I get a hot coffee to go with my sandwiches. The meeting gets over around nine, cleanup takes until 9:30.

I managed to save two dollars from my afternoon of panhandling so I head over the coffee shop to see about getting a bowl of soup and a small coffee. I eat and drink slowly.

A few AA members are there and we chit chat. One of them asks me where I'm living these days. For a moment, I think about lying again. And then I remember I'm supposed to be honest. Under the bridge I say. He lets me crash on his sofa that night.

When I wake up on Wednesday, I'm not cold. For that I am grateful.