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September 1970

The Blonde on the Boat

When the picture finally came into focus, a new understanding of responsibility came clear, too

I AM WRITING this on an Italian freighter off the coast of Central America. Yesterday the sea lay glassily calm, truly Pacific. Today it is heaving gently, strewn with crests of foam. It is a month since I have been to a meeting or had face-to-face contact with an AA member; and, under gusts of minor frustrations, the psychic seas within me are beginning to rough up, too. It may well be at least ten days more before they can be calmed by the settling presence of another member of Alcoholics Anonymous, through whom my strength to live sanely is transmitted.

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