Reflections

As I sit in the hills in a small town full of drunks and no AAs, memories of past meetings pop through my noggin--for instance, the fellow who said that as a youth he was accused of setting fire to the reform school ("Which I did," he added casually)--and the guy in the first closed meeting I attended who had a pint of booze in his back pocket ("I never touch it but I have a horror of being in a train wreck without a drink.") Many of the older members remember this bird whose nickname started with "W." He did die, but not in a train wreck--and the dignified elderly Judge who almost tearfully told of the time he was sitting on the bench and kicked over the fifth he'd hidden near the waste basket.