The Secret Meeting

In the middle of an anonymous eastern city, there is a rickety old clapboard house that belongs to the Parks Department. For thirty years it hosted a Tuesday night AA stag meeting. It was started back in the fifties by some crusty old-timers for habitual relapsers. They weren't Step Nazis. These legendary old guys were mostly Depression-era, WW II guys--solemn and all business. These coots were not in touch with their feelings, or anyone else's. They were in touch with "not drinkin' whiskey." This was old-time AA. Maybe, it wasn't quite AA, because the meeting was never listed. This meeting worked for both types of AA heads: hard and harder. It worked for me. One notorious old plumber told me, "That park meeting'll straighten you right out, like getting reamed out with a wire brush and turpentine."