So for a year a half, somewhere in between and in both high school and college, I stopped drinking through Alcoholics Anonymous. I did ninety meetings in ninety days and went to lots of meetings when the ninety days were over. I told my story, I gave people rides, I sponsored people and I was sponsored. I followed the strict guidelines my first sponsor, Elli, laid down for me. I got an additional sponsor, Ann, who I wrote about earlier. I celebrated my first anniversary and the anniversaries of others.
An oldtimer at my home group ran an alateen meeting that went on while the AA meetings were going on. Through that, he came to supply speakers for high schools and for the classes that were mandated when someone got a DUI. I spoke in both of those places when he asked me to.
In the high school health classes, I spoke with another young person from my home group. Simon was a few years older than me, so also very young. I remember him as a very nice young man. He was funny and gentle and just nice. He had a hair-raising story, during which he did things like wipe out while skiing drunk and on drugs and being pronounced dead, if what he said was true. I, next to him, stole alcohol from those I babysat for and drank in my room till I passed out. I always felt a bit self conscious, and all the questions the kids asked would be for Simon.
I made real friends in AA. Everyone was older than me, at least in their 20s and 30s. Oldtimers, at that time in my world, had five or six years of sobriety when I began. There are different people I could name and tell stories about, but I think the important detail is that these people protected me, helped me, and tried to “give it” to me to begin me on my sober journey. Every time I saw them then and every time after – during the years I drank and since I’ve been sober – they have always been welcoming and kind.
One oldtimer with about about six years was Finn Ramsey (not his real name). He was always referred to by both names. He was in his 60s, I think, and his story was harrowing. He had been abandoned as a child, homeless, in an orphanage, in the service, had his throat cut in a fight, and just all manner of awfulness had befallen him in his drinking. One time I asked him how he lived to be so old, given that scary drinking history. He said to me, “I didn’t drink the way you did.” That is still with me now. Although I was a sheltered teenager, my drinking was the kind that wasn’t going to let me live long. Here this scary old man who had done so many dangerous things was explaining to me that he had periods of sobriety, or moderate drinking, through those years, while I did not. He had lived to tell about, whereas I would not.
