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A Friendly Face
She learned some important lessons from an unlikely place
When I first graced the doors of the local clubhouse in March of 2003, it was unfamiliar territory. There was a screened-in porch and a group of men sitting at a round wooden table, laughing and smoking. Older men. Sixties, maybe. It was six in the morning. I was 29 years old.
I had been to my first meeting two months before. Going to that Sunday night meeting had convinced me that I was an alcoholic. I even had my own Big Book and a sponsor. Naturally, I acted as casual as I could, and hung off to the side. I smoked a cigarette until someone finally opened another door into the...
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