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The Writing on the Wall
Sometimes our Higher Power gets in touch in unusual ways
I attended my first AA meeting on June 1, 1990. My former drinking buddy, who was to become my first sponsor, had invited me to the meeting. It was held in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, in a halfway house. There was an assortment of unsavory looking characters smoking near the front door. I glided past them in my business suit and sensible shoes. Inside was a noisy, talkative crowd of about 50 people. They all looked like hardened criminals to me. Clearly I did not belong. My friend and I took seats toward the middle of the front section where I had a clear view of the...
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