Baa Baa Black Sheep
Page 40
Just how nutty can you get? This was it! As soon as I could get some coffee down, I was back to my sober drunk friends, willing to do business their way. I asked: “How can I stay sober and happy?”
“You have to progress spiritually, otherwise you will drink again.”
“How on earth is a guy like me ever going to progress spiritually, I’d like to know?”
“By meeting with us several times each week, and helping others to stay sober.”
This happened pretty close to three years ago and I haven’t had a drink since, simply because I like their way of life a lot better than I ever thought I liked to drink. Otherwise there would be absolutely no reason for living the way I am.
In my lengthy career of violence and fighting this was the first time I ever won by being counted out—by admitting to myself that I was powerless—for a change.
As I live my life from day to day as best I can, past character defects rise to the surface, and I am now able to understand and cope with them. And I find myself gradually joining up with society—something to which I never belonged in my past life.
People never even suggest that I have a drink like I imagined they would at one time; others seem to turn them down for me. Most of the places I go, without a word being spoken, my drink is the first served. Even the waiters and waitresses, though I am not conscious of it, seem to bring me a large pot of coffee before they serve my nonalcoholic friends their drinks.
With the weight of the obsession to drink removed I find that I have time now to appreciate some wonderful things I never thought about before. For an example, birds have always held my interest, but now, when I watch them fly, I think of the Infinite Wisdom telling the birds to fly south before the first snow appears. They know exactly the course to the best feeding, even if they have never been there. And they don’t choose their leader; they take turns leading. One bird leads for a spell, then another takes his place; anybody who wants to can lead for a while.
Birds don’t get caught in an early winter, because they aren’t alcoholic, for one thing. One bird doesn’t say to another: “I ain’t gonna fly south with Joe this year, because I think he’s a drunken bum.”
I have learned that it is good for me to be criticized, right though I think I may be. Others have a right to their opinions. This is the only way any of us can progress.
Some are going to doubt the author’s sanity. They shall be partially correct, for, God knows, I have practiced insanity on numerous occasions for twenty years. But the most beautiful part of it all—I am the guy who knows it.
But my past is not one of regret, for I can look back and chuckle at many things I wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t been a drunk. These memories come in mighty handy because it has been said: “Time doth make monks of us all.”
If this story were to have a moral, then I would say: “Just name a hero and I’ll prove he’s a bum.”
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DEDICATION
* * *
To the Black Sheep
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
* * *
In 1946, Max Miller helped me to get started on the manuscript of this book. During the ten years that followed I was in no shape to do much work on it, and it seemed unlikely there would ever be a happy ending of any sort until I met my wife, Frances, whose loyalty and confidence have made all the difference.
I also want to express my appreciation to Eloise O’Brien, who suggested the title.