I am grateful for the smoke clearing. I’m grateful for things popping into focus again. I’m grateful for not-so-subtle reminders. I’m grateful for notebooks and libraries. I’m grateful for the way things are. I’m grateful to be sober today.
Well, Friday arrived right on schedule and it was accompanied here in NYC with a literal clearing of the smoke. At some point, several weeks ago, I thought I was going to make a regular practice of putting a song up on Fridays—one that captured the vibe-of-the-week—or something like that.1 Anyway, I was trying to decide on a song for today and was sifting through Spotify and came up with this:
I love this song and always have. Here are some problems with the song: (1) It’s not really a “Happy Friday,” song: and (2) I’d like to point out this is being performed by a band formed for the express purpose of a children’s television show. Aimed at nine year olds like me.2 You beam this music at me on Saturday mornings, yeah, I’m going to look at the girls in the fourth grade with a pretty wary eye. Seriously, between that and H.R. Puf’N’Stuff—what were they trying to do to us?3
Sorry, back to the song of the day. After sifting through all of the possibilities, well, I settled on this, a bullet from 1978 straight to your heart:
Last night was yet another installment of the Tour de AA. What is that you ask? Well, me & the sponsees try to explore AA meetings all over the great city of New York. We’ve been to some great meetings and last night was a really good one, too. We visited the “Powerless” meeting in Hell’s Kitchen. I think we all enjoyed it and, speaking for the band, this has turned into kind of a fun way of “deepening and broadening” our spiritual connections. Or experience, whatever word you’d like to use.
Long-term attendance at a meeting is a really cool thing and can foster amazing connections that last and promote long-term sobriety. Long-term attendance at meetings can create kind of a safe haven. For me, going to one of my regular meetings often felt like I was sliding into home and being called “safe,” without the huge friction-rash on the hip.
Short-term? Well, I think it’s kind of groovy thing, too. I really like having a portfolio of meetings to choose from and Zoom makes that super easy. One of the most critical aspects of my sobriety was finding the right meetings. Meetings, like alcoholics, occupy a pretty wide spectrum and, I’m sorry to say, there are meetings that aren’t great.
When people first arrive on the doorstep, most don’t really have a sense for what AA is, much less how it’s organized. You can scroll through Twitter and Instagram and find people railing about how AA “says all of these things,” “has all of these rules,” “thinks there is only way to recover.” I don’t doubt those folks had a bad experience, and we all know that’s very possible. But what those criticisms don’t understand is there is no one at AA-Central making rules, pronouncements, supervising meetings, enforcing loyalty to the one true path, keeping track of the number of the secret converts. AA meetings are self-organized and self-run. Go to the Intergroup website of your choice and see how easy it is to start a meeting. They let literally anyone start a meeting:
That’s a great thing, actually, and it reflects the amazing diversity of AA meetings and of AA itself. We may all have the same disease, but there are different versions and variants and varying levels of intensity, just like every other disease. All of those different meetings serve as potential collection and recovery points for the wide array of alcoholics and addicts. I think we all know that the problems and bad experiences people describe, don’t actually stem from AA or the Program of Alcoholics Anonymous, they come from random alcoholics speaking at meetings. Often from a position of assumed and unjustified moral authority.
Look, I know how hard it is to come in. I know that years of pouring alcohol into the fear and shame machine we carry on our backs, just makes the load that much heavier, that much more unbearable. It made me super defensive, super sensitive, a little like the dogs in the elevator that don’t like to be petted on the head. That guy at the 7:00am meeting at the Dupont Circle Club who was giving me the eye every morning, well, he obviously could see right through me. He knew what a liar I was, how many times I tried this and failed. He already knew that, given the probabilities, I had probably relapsed within the last 30 days. Ah, probably the last seven. When he looked in my direction and then turned away, that was out of disgust. Those kinds of thoughts, products of my still-insane alcoholic brain were exactly enough to trigger the alcoholic bear-trap in my brain and let it clang-shut:
F*** me? No, F*** you. I’m going to go drink now.
One thing that AA is pretty clear on is that every “AA group” has but one primary purpose, and that is carrying the message to the still-suffering alcoholics. Here’s my point: We of AA don’t honor that tradition by simply calling for a three-heartbeat moment of silence for the sick and suffering at the end of the meeting. I think honoring that tradition means running what I want to say through the filter of “what would a newcomer think about this?” Those newcomers are in the desperate early days of sobriety where nothing seems firm or real and they’re looking for guidance and support, but super ready to run at the first sign of judgment or shame. I think honoring the AA traditions also means accurately stating what the Program actually is and recognizing that it comes not from the oral traditions of AA members, but from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.
Bill W’s recipe for sobriety was finding ways to place himself in a position of “maximum service.” For me, attending meetings all over for years and years helps do that and has given me a real appreciation for the breadth and diversity of AA. I’ve heard absolutely breathtaking stories from an incredible array of people. I’ve seen how the Steps and the Big Book transform lives in so many different ways. I know I like to say this thing about how recovery is discovering the path back to yourself. I think I’d like to amend it slightly, because I’m not sure the word “path” is exactly right. I think it necessarily involves some bushwhacking. Maybe the commands of “maximum service” and deepening and broadening the spiritual perspective mean taking the path of more resistance. Here’s a cool looking meeting coming up:
The old me was all about finding the path of maximum resistance, but it was in service of this weird narrative I was trying to live that involved demonstrating how much I could tolerate. This formed a neat, very deliberate predicate for drinking, so we’re not going there. But the Big Book reminds us that our oft-expressed preference for the “easier, softer” way is also part of the problem. So, I think that has us heading towards the mama bear bed, the “just right” bed. All I’m saying is that building a little bit of challenge and novelty in my routine helps keep it fresh and frankly, I notice a lot more when stuff is new and different to me.
Our little Tour de’AA is a way of doing that and our observations and conversations after these new meetings almost always yields some interesting insights. Plus, it’s fun. Also, here in NYC, I think there is a Shake Shack near every single AA meeting. After the meeting last night, one of the alcoholics in attendance described me & the Sponsees as an “Alcoholic Wolfpack:”4
Well, maybe not exactly. The Big Book says “we are not a glum lot,” and I personally think that making things fun, to the extent that’s possible, is always a good idea. One thing in the Big Book I don’t agree with is the whole “trudging the road of happy destiny” or whatever. I don’t know about you, but this alcoholic didn’t go through all of that so that I could “trudge” some more. We’re a wolfpack, baby, running free in the desert.5 Well, maybe just three alcoholics who show up at random meetings on Thursday nights and wake up sober on Friday mornings.
I could have gone with Sanford & Townsend here, but didn’t. Too obvious.
First actual record: ‘Last Train to Clarksville,” cut from the back of a Honeycombs box.
Note: According to Wikipedia, Peter Tork might have been one of us.
Technically, I was that “anonymous alcoholic.”
Well, again, not exactly and the last part of the video is definitely not on the menu.