PO Box 1980

Having been in a mental institution for one month in 1966, I returned to it two weeks later to talk at the AA meeting. Scared to death at the thought of talking, I asked the counselor to be ready to take over, as I could promise only five minutes. My knees shook, and I sweat, as I began stammering and babbling about my wretched life from age thirteen to twenty-six. Sixty minutes later, I sat down.