A Beautiful Day for a Ride

I had been sober a couple of years when a guy named Mike S. moved to my hometown of Victoria, Texas. He came from Corpus Christi. When he introduced himself, he said, "My name is Mike. I'm an alcoholic and it's a beautiful day." I thought it was kind of corny, but if it helped him, it was fine with me. Then I learned that he had just been divorced, lost custody of his two boys, 4 and 6, filed for bankruptcy for his business, lost his house and was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. At the time, he was living with his mom and stepdad. Every time he spoke at a meeting he said, "It's a beautiful day." I was intrigued.