Can I Buy You a Drink?
If it hadn't been for an event that took place in August 1963 (which I later came to believe only my Higher Power could have arranged), I doubt that I'd be among the living today.
Because of a separation agreement with the father of my five sons, I was alone during the month of August. At that time, I lived in New York State. I'd been to Mont Tremblant, Quebec, on several occasions to ski and had been encouraged to come back in the summertime by the owners of the hotel where I always stayed. I couldn't imagine Mont Tremblant green instead of white, but I decided to return.
Soon after my arrival, I found myself sitting on a patio overlooking Lac Tremblant, drink in hand, visiting with another woman. Our visit was interrupted by the arrival of a car with license plates from Westchester County, where I lived at the time. I ran over to the car to greet the man and the woman in the car, as I was happy to see someone from home. (I also knew that they would speak English.) I introduced myself, telling them that I'd been to Mont Tremblant on several previous occasions, and I offered to be of any service. They thanked me.
The next day, I played golf and afterwards, I went back to my hotel and sat down in the bar. George the bartender came to take my order. This was not a barstool kind of bar, but rather a cozy room with loveseats placed around circular, glass-topped tables. George brought me a double martini on the rocks, and told me he was going into the staff kitchen to have his dinner. He asked me if anyone came into the bar to please come and get him.
I'd just settled down with my martini, planning to read the Montreal paper, when one of my Westchester friends approached and asked if he could join me. I inquired as to the whereabouts of his wife (I didn't like sitting in bars with other people's husbands), and he told me that she was having a little beauty nap but would join us shortly.
I offered to buy him a drink but he told me that he hadn't had a drink since 1934. I was shocked and asked him if he was a member of AA, although at that time I knew absolutely nothing about Alcoholics Anonymous, except that drunks went there. He very modestly told me that he was one of the "founders." I thought that this was a bar joke! But the man I was talking to was Bill W.
As it turned out, I walked many miles in the Laurentian Mountains with Bill, while Lois was working on a new book for Al-Anon, and Bill told me about Dr. Bob (then deceased), and the part that he had played in the birth of AA. We discussed many things, mostly of a spiritual nature. Only God could have foreseen my need for the beautiful program of Alcoholics Anonymous a while later, and this is how he chose to introduce me to it. I am eternally grateful for this experience.
My membership in AA has not only provided me with sobriety and a deepening relationship with my God, but with many friends and opportunities to grow. I've been invited to carry the message of recovery in AA at two United Nations Congresses, one in Geneva, Switzerland and the other in Havana, Cuba, and several times at the International Congress on Drugs and Alcohol in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, Israel. But my favorite way of sharing is still one-to-one.
At the end of my drinking, I was praying to die. Now, I am praying not to! There is so much work to be done.
