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The Hunting Party
An AA recollects his earliest drinking memory and understands his powerlessness
It all started on a winter day, November 8, 1969, which was my 12th birthday. I lived in a little town called Lava Hot Springs in Idaho. It was an exciting day for me because I was finally old enough to carry a firearm and go deer hunting with my father, which gave me the feeling that I was grown up.
There were seven of us in the hunting party and we went to a place near home that was known as Dempsey Creek. Beautiful mountains loaded with pine trees and a creek that ran through. We hunted most of the day and as it turned out, we all were lucky enough to fill our tags.
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Cracking Open the Shell
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