Confessions Of a Reluctant Newcomer

Newcomers, God love 'em, can't be beaten with a stick. They stand up at speakers' meetings and talk for six minutes or for fifty-six; they're live-wires or numb as rocks; egomaniacs (like me) or doormats. They're the lifeblood of the program; the pigeons who carry the message. What would the rest of us do without them? Newbies keep the grass green--their presence is a good "remember-when." They're like me, they sit in the back of the meeting or in a corner, scared to death that someone will ask them to speak, and when no one does ask, they feel insulted. At six months, they know most of the answers to life's problems; at a year, they know all of the answers. At two years, or five, or twenty, they realize that, like the rest of us, they know only a little and that more--a lot more--will be revealed in time.