From the November 2019 magazine.

A wind of spirit

A Wyoming man’s relapse on Thanksgiving day leads him back to the Steps and a spiritual journey

When I got out of the hospital after being dried out and educated a bit about alcoholism, I knew that if I didn’t do something about my drinking, I was going to lose everything I had—wife, children, business, money, home. So I went to AA. I’d had a taste of AA in the hospital, and though I had some reservations, in general I liked it. I was welcomed sincerely and genuinely at my first meeting out of the hospital; in fact, the chairman got up out of his chair and walked halfway to the door to greet me. “Bob,” he said, “we’re glad you’re here,” and I knew I was in the right place. I have heard hundreds of people say the same thing since.

We had two meetings a week at that time, a Tuesday open meeting and a Friday closed one. I became a regular attender of the Friday meeting and occasionally went to the one on Tuesday. I was adopted almost at once by a big Irish nurse who became my sponsor and still is. How she ever put up with my intellectual pretensions and general arrogance I’ll never know, but she did (and still does!). It was a small group, but representative, as all AA groups are, of the general run of mankind. There was a college professor, a successful businessman, a real estate salesman, a former lady of the night, a truck driver, a housewife or two, and then me—the resident intellectual.

-- Anonymous


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