August Articles Online
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The Perfect Meeting
A speaker asks what an AA's got to lose by drinking, and gets an answer he'll never forget
At only eight months sober, I had been
elected secretary of my home group, a most important and noteworthy
position. It’s important, for it is really the secretary’s
meeting — he or she does all the work to keep it going and
interesting. To top things off, I had, all on my own mind you, managed to
obtain a most popular speaker. I had already chosen a super topic, and was
sure they were all going to say, “Thanks, Grégoire. Thanks to
you this is a truly great meeting.”
“My” meeting started off fine, on time,
like it should, in the church basement. I sure was proud of myself.
The meeting approached half-time. Most of the people
who commented on the speaker’s fine talk, the “format,”
knew me. I recognized them and allowed them to speak, knowing they would
have good comments to make.
Even the topic I had “suggested” was met
with great approval — it was most unusual, no one had ever thought of
it; why, it wasn’t even in the Big Book, nor thought up by Bill W. or
any of the old-timers. All right, here it is: What would you lose if, after
your time so far in AA, you decided to pick up just
one drink? Yes, it was unusual,
even startling, I might add, and it just “came to me.” Would
you call that “inspired”? Wow!
Then came the tragedy.
I would never have anticipated it. Some bum had been
let into my meeting. Well, he was sober I guess, but look at him! —
in rags, a disgrace. How awful. And they let him in! To
“my” meeting.
Oh, horror of horrors, he had his hand up. What nerve!
He wanted to speak at my meeting. Well, not to worry, he will be ignored, I
thought. Still, his hand was up, and after everyone had said good,
appropriate things in response to my unusual question. Oh well, let him
speak. What can he possibly say that might spoil my meeting?
The old bum cleared his throat and started to speak:
“You ask what I would lose, if after all I have learned in AA this
past year, I now would pick up just one drink?”
“Well,” he said, “I would lose, most
of all, my dignity as
a man.” There was silence. I don’t even remember the meeting
ending, the clearing up, people getting their coats and leaving.
I sat silent in my secretary chair. Did I
imagine the chair had shrunken in size? The old man was the last to leave,
and suddenly I heard my voice calling to him: “Thank you,
brother.” I was shaking now, but blurted out: “Thank you for
what you said.” Silently, slowly, I put on my coat and held the door
open for this old man who had . . . dignity — a concept I
hadn’t understood until then and didn’t realize I would find at
this “perfect” meeting.
Grégoire G.
San Francisco, California
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