I got sober in Los Angeles where I was blessed with a choice of more than 1200 meetings a week, all within driving and mass-transit distance from where I rested my head each night.

When I served my second year as the Area 29 delegate from Maryland to the 69th AA General Service Conference, I found myself volunteering to be the recorder for one of the Conference wo

My job often takes me to places far away. Sometimes these places are distant in miles, and they can also place me in a remote area, far away from my comfort zone.  

Newly sober, shaky and with many questions, I embarked on the AA way of life. At the time I was stationed at a U.S. Navy communications station in a small town in an Asian country.

When I was just four months sober, an old friend came to town for the holidays.

I was just over the 30-day mark in my journey into sobriety. I’d been going to two meetings a day, sometimes three.

My heart is pounding because I feel uncomfortable at our sober holiday alcathon. And yet I feel an intense need to do service work to anchor my nerves.

It was 1984 and Christmas was approaching. I hadn’t had a visit nor heard from a single friend or relative since I had moved into this recovery house more than three months earlier.

It was a hot night and he was leaning in through the low window on the far side of the meeting room of my men’s group.

Recently, at an AA meeting in my area, I happened to see the Grapevine annual prison issue (July 2018), with the headline: “Free on the Inside.” Wow, those words brought forth a lot of

I would like to respond to an anonymous letter which appeared in the March, 2017, issue of Grapevine.

Every Central Office I know of this year during the COVID-19 crisis has been scrambling to keep meeting info updated.

It wasn’t cancerous, the doctor told me, adding that it would be if I didn’t stop smoking. As our conversation progressed, he asked how much I drank.

My husband and I moved to Japan in 2019, and immediately joined the Sho¯nan Group in Fujisawa—a Japanese-speaking group that I had belonged to the last time we were living in Japan in 2

I am an alcoholic in recovery in a prison in Northeast Florida. I’m doing time as a direct result of my alcoholism.

I live in Texas.

Cliff, an old-timer in my home group, used to say that in order to recover, I would have to see things I don’t want to see, hear things I don’t want to hear and do things I don’t want t

Picture this: It’s 15 years ago and it’s my first year living in Dallas. I’m on the road heading back home to Midland for Thanksgiving and the sense of dread in my stomach is potent.