From Battlefield to Sobriety: Thomas's Journey

The invitation, Oscar, and the diligence you displayed in making sure that I would be present.

I have been here before.

It's always a pleasure for the opportunity to participate in my own sobriety.

This is sort of a special time of the year for me, 4th of July having just recently passed.

And I do talk about active duty veterans, military, and combat as part of my talk, part

of my share with you because it's part of my story.

I am a combat veteran.

And so, if there are some in the room tonight, I will be at times speaking directly to you

because I have a very definite affinity for you.

This is a very difficult time of the year for me.

And so, I welcome the opportunity to get out and about and not sitting at home listening

to the firecrackers and the rockets and so forth.

It's still befuddling to my mind how this happens to be enjoyment for so many because

it is a duplication of actual battlefield activity.

And if you've never been on the battlefield.

Perhaps it does not bother you, but I have spent many days and nights on the battlefield.

I was in combat actually 53 years ago, and I am still uneasy when a car backfires,

just the fact of it.

But at any rate, and I thank Bill for coming out here with me this evening.

We've been traveling this journey together for a number of years and if anything were

to happen to me, he could tell my story.

I assure you.

He's heard it often enough, but you know, I never really wanted to get sober.

When I walked into these rooms 32 plus years ago, it was not to get sober.

I needed relief.

I needed shelter.

I knew you had doughnuts.

And when I finally stayed.

It was not to get sober.

But early in my sobriety, I heard a story that resonated with me.

And which is generally how what catches most of our attention when we hear something that

we resonate with and we begin to identify and it seems that the speaker that night was

talking about drinking and driving, which was one of my favorite activities.

There's nothing in the world I loved better than having a cold can of beer in between

my legs while I was trying to shift gears and stay out of an accident.

But it seems one night, a speaker pulled up to a stop sign.

And instead of stopping, it just slowed down and rolled on through the intersection and

about halfway through the intersection.

He heard that old familiar anthem.

So.

Wow.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

So he pulled to the side, and the policeman walked up to him, and he said, young man, did you see the stop sign?

He said, yeah, I saw it.

He said, well, why didn't you stop?

He said, well, I slowed down.

What's the difference?

So the policeman backed up a little bit, and he said, if you'll just step out of the car, I'll try and demonstrate for you what the difference is.

And as the young man backed, or as the policeman backed up, and the young man stepped out of the car, the policeman started hitting him in the head in rapid succession with that billy club.

He said, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop, bop.

Now, do you want me to slow down, or do you want me to stop?

And as it turns out, there is a difference.

And that is exactly how I came into Alcoholics Anonymous.

Beaten into submission.

With nowhere else to go.

And as it turns out, desperation and destitution actually become assets and help you to stay in the room long enough for your life to begin to change.

Now, as a child, I would have never imagined that Alcoholics Anonymous was in my future.

I am the youngest of many.

My mom actually bore 12.

My father was a Methodist minister all of my life.

He did have another career.

Prior to the ministry, but that was before my birth.

So all I knew was the ministry.

And growing up at home, I never opened the refrigerator and saw alcohol of any type.

My mom and dad are past now, but I never in my lifetime saw my father take a drink.

I never saw my mother take a drink.

I actually never heard my father or mother use profanity.

I've never.

Heard or seen my father raise his voice to my mother and nor did I ever consider raising my voice to my mother either because my father was a big man and he believed in capital punishment and he loved that woman and he would not tolerate any shenanigans from any of the kids.

I grew up in Newark, New Jersey, junior high, high school.

If you're familiar with homes on the East Coast, particularly in Jersey, most of the.

Single family homes are three stories and some even four because most homes and buildings there have basements.

So the younger set because the older ones, when I was born, they were already out of the house in college away from home.

So there was a younger four boys and we were all housed on the third floor and mom and dad rarely venture to the third floor.

So my brother.

Found a way to deal with me because it was very difficult to deal with me.

My mom always said the most beautiful words I'd ever heard in my life when my brothers were angry at me, she would say to them, don't you touch the baby and I provoke them often.

You see, I will tell on you and I will bribe you and I do accept gifts.

Now, my older brothers found a way to keep baby Thomas quiet.

Because they.

Found a way to get alcohol to the third floor where mom and dad never came.

And in order to get baby Thomas quiet, all you needed to do was give him a little sip of bourbon or something.

Now, I did not know at the time that I was entering a world that would change my perspective on life completely.

I did not understand that, nor do I think they did, but it nevertheless was the case.

And under the influence of alcohol, I began to notice, especially when I was in junior high and high school, because my brothers were big guys.

And when they went out, they sort of, they were boisterous and they would fight.

And I wanted to be like them, but only under the influence of alcohol, because without alcohol, I've never been in a fight.

And you can't count that altercation I had with the young.

Girl in the second grade, because in order for it to be a fight, most both parties have to throw a punch.

And I was going to throw a punch, but I never got to it.

But under the influence of alcohol, I felt as big, sometimes bigger than they did.

And when they were rowdy and boisterous and taking advantage of people in the bars, felt right at home and joining in with them.

And even though the drinking.

Age in New Jersey was 21, all of the bartenders and such knew my brothers.

And so I was sort of protected and it changed the nature, the trajectory of my life.

And so I came to California in 19, in the winter of 1963 to go to college and play basketball and grow up to be a man.

And as it turned out, I had developed an alcohol habit and I went to basketball practice, but I neglected to go to any class.

And after the first year, even as laxed as things were in the early 60s, you still had to turn in your grades in order to renew your scholarship for the next year.

And I had no grades.

I had been there the whole year and I had nonstop.

I had not received a grade from any class.

So I had no idea how I was going to handle this with coach, with my parents, family, friends.

I was staying with two other fellows, roommates.

We were living in a bachelor apartment, cost $100 a month.

And that was $33.33 for two.

And then it revolved.

The other third person had to pay the extra penny to make it $100.

So it was around.

The end of the month.

And I didn't have my $33 that month.

And so I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard in my roommate's car.

I didn't have a car.

And I saw the sign, Uncle Sam, we want you.

And I said, well, there is a way out.

So I went in to join and recruiter told me, he said, if you join, you sign up for three years.

It's OK.

I had no idea what I was going to do for the next three years.

But then he told me, if you want to go to the South Pacific, you have to take four years.

But when he said South Pacific, all I could see was Hawaii and hula skirts.

And I said, give me the four.

Honestly, I had no idea the country was at war because my life did not revolve around current events.

My life revolved around basketball and parties.

So I went into the service.

And sure enough, they sent me to Hawaii, just like they said they would.

But in October of 1965, the entire division was put on alert to go to Vietnam.

So I said, oh, somebody has made a mistake.

I went straight to the battalion commander.

And I said, sir, there's been a mistake, at least ways in my case.

I signed up for four years for the South Pacific.

And the colonel looked at me.

And he said, private sales?

Where exactly do you think Vietnam is?

So he showed me on the map, South Pacific.

So there you go.

Now, the point of that is, I had already developed a habit of drinking every night.

But it was still at a point to where it seemed to be my choice.

But when we got to Vietnam, and I was a frontline infantry soldier,

I fought the war.

I did not watch it.

Alcohol became far beyond a choice.

It became a necessity.

It seemed virtually impossible in order to go through the barbed wire out to the field

on a daily basis without being completely inebriated.

I needed courage.

And bravado provided for me on a constant basis.

And when I suited up to go out.

And when I suited up to go out.

And when I was on mission to go out on patrol,

I was not interested in carrying food and water.

My load consisted of alcohol and ammunition.

Things that I was going to need.

And not one time when we cleared that barbed wire on patrol

did I ever have a discussion with anyone about the Geneva Convention and the rules of war.

I was not aware war had rules.

My intention on a daily basis.

Was to come home.

And in that regard, I became willing to do virtually anything that was necessary to do.

And some things that were not necessary.

Some things that essentially I understand today would be classified even as war crimes.

But this is where we were.

It seemed to me each individual had been questioned about their willingness to go into a free fight.

And the reason the brass, top brass, questioned the people about free fire zones is because

when you went into a free fire zone, you were expected to not leave anything living.

And that included men, women, children, plants, animals, anything that would sustain the enemy.

Because a free fire zone essentially was where the enemy resided.

And theoretically, as we were told, the military had canvassed free fire zones before we went into them

with leaflets and megaphones and so on and so that if you are not with the enemy, please leave this area.

And so theoretically, when we got there on mission, the only people remaining in that area were enemy.

And so you had to...

You had to either voice a strong objection to being in a free fire zone or you had to comply.

Because everyone's life around you depended upon your actions.

And I realized that others' actions influenced my own particular survival.

And so there were many things done.

When I came back to the States, I was a very, very angry man.

All of my friends had graduated from college.

They all had BMWs and Mercedes-Benz in their driveways, 2.4 kids.

They were all working for corporate America, Shell and Exxon and IBM and I wanted everything they had.

And I did not want to do what they did to get it.

Needless to say, I felt very...

Entitled.

Now I managed, even with a severe drinking habit, I managed to matriculate at the University of Southern California on an academic fellowship the second time around.

I had taken a grenade in the bottom part of my body, so basketball was not really an option any longer.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

And so I always had the option of an academic fellowship.

allowed me to take the certified public accountants exam, which I passed.

And I hung my license up after a couple of years with one of the international CPA firms

and became certified.

I hung my license up in Beverly Hills, and it was a license to steal.

I guarantee you, if you came into my shop with some square business proposal because

you needed your books kept, I would tell you where to go.

That was not my interest.

While I was a student at USC, I served my junior year as the president of the business

fraternity.

And in that capacity, I had the privilege of meeting Noah Dietrich.

Noah Dietrich was the financial advisor and CPA for Howard Hughes, who at the time was

the richest man in the world.

And I said,

I want to be the black Noah Dietrich, and I need to find me a black Howard Hughes.

Now, the closest I got to that was a local drug dealer.

He was making about $100,000 a month cash flow.

And I said to him with all earnestness, if you follow my business advice, you will never

have to work again.

Now, what I didn't understand was he wasn't working then.

And he never paid me.

He never paid my invoice in cash or check.

He paid it in product.

Exactly.

And it hastened my entry to you.

So, as I said in the beginning, I crawled into Alcoholics Anonymous, beaten into submission.

I was like a cat trying to have sex with a skunk.

In other words, I didn't get all I wanted, but I got all I could stand.

And I still was not willing.

To commit to staying sober.

So, it turns out I had a bench warrant out for my arrest.

I had been arrested in that last year seven times.

The last time I got arrested, I was going two miles an hour in a parking lot.

I couldn't figure out.

But I can't stay on the street.

But I consistently brought my war record up.

I'm a highly decorated combat soldier.

I consistently brought up my war record to the judges.

And they consistently, until the last one, yielded to it.

But the last time I did that, the judge said, yeah, but I want you off the street.

And I want you off the street for a year.

Now, I will allow you to go to the VA Medical Center and find a program that lasts a year.

Because if you don't, you're going to spend a year in state prison.

And, of course, when I went to the VA, I brought the war record up again, which was easily verified.

And so they didn't have a program for a year.

But they told me I could stay in this three-month program for at least a year in deference to a person who came to them with the kind of decorations and accolades that I had received on the battlefield.

And so initially, so I was sober.

I was in a program, but I was sober.

Not sure I was going to stay sober, but I was sober that day.

And the most I could do, really, was to stay physically sober.

Now, as it turns out, the program works a lot better if you are sober.

And so you get it when you get it, but you don't always get it right up front.

I remember my sponsor told me he wanted me to respect pedestrians.

And when I came to a red light, he said, I want you to stop.

And when the light is yellow, that does not mean speed up to get through the intersection before the light turns.

The yellow light means slow down, so when you get to the intersection, you can then come safely to a complete stop.

Novel idea, but I tried it, and he told me he wanted me to not litter.

I had a two-pack-a-day smoking habit when I got sober, and it was not unusual for me to flick a cigarette out of the window onto the ground.

And I didn't understand exactly what that had to do.

I didn't have anything to do with staying sober, but what my sponsor was trying to teach me was how to be a good citizen.

Because I hadn't been a good citizen in a long time.

I used to tell my sponsor, I said, yes, I was involved in white-collar crime.

My sponsor said, no, you weren't.

You weren't involved in white-collar crime.

You were an embezzler.

That didn't sound quite as glamorous as white-collar crime.

But he was right.

And so he said, I want you to work.

And I said, well.

You know, I have a passive income.

I don't really need a job.

He said, well, I want you to work because I want you to have something to do in between meetings.

And I don't care how much you make.

Okay.

I understood that, but I was sort of hedging my bet.

I remember once I found this temporary work.

This company needed some financial records reviewed and such.

And it was just going to be.

And so I was there for a few weeks and they told me to come show up the next morning at 9 a.m.

I got there at 11.

So the CEO and chief financial officer, I suppose they chalked it up to maybe he got lost.

But I knew exactly where I was.

And so they put me in this office and they said, here's the papers we want you to study.

And I had a briefcase with me, but nothing was in it.

I mean, I hadn't worked in years.

And so.

And they explained everything to me.

And then they walked out.

And when they walked out, I looked at my clock.

It's about 1130.

It's lunchtime.

When they walked out, I walked out.

I came back about two normal executive lunch.

And when I got back to the office, they had put me in.

I noticed my briefcase was gone.

So I went to the CFO and I said, you know, I think somebody has taken my briefcase.

He said, no, here it is.

He said, we can't use your services.

My whole thinking.

Was off.

I was physically sober, but I was not acting sober.

Now, here's what happens when you're sitting in these rooms long enough.

When you're sitting in these rooms long enough and you're listening to others share.

And I was making some changes in my life, but I was keeping many, many secrets.

And I heard you guys at the podium.

I got sober.

I owed the IRS $13,000 and I paid it off.

I'm sitting now.

There where you are now.

And I'm listening to this and I'm thinking, no, no, no.

Every dime I make is money.

But here's what happens when you're keeping secrets.

At first, I thought it was indigestion.

And then at worst, maybe heartburn.

But what happens is when you are watching your peers, watching their lives change, watching their lives get better.

And then you realize you're in pain because you're lying and you're not changing.

And here's what happens.

Here's what I learned.

If anyone out there tonight is in any kind of pain, pain is not the time to leave the program.

Pain actually, as it turns out, is the harbinger to growth.

I have not made any leaps and bounds in the growth area without experiencing pain first.

Because pain tells me it is now time to make changes to eliminate the pain.

And so I went to my sponsor.

I said, there's time for me to get honest.

And I told him, you know, I did a whole lot of things and I owe a whole lot of money.

And I heard my sponsor say, which gave me a ray of hope.

He said, we're going to need to take care of that.

And I'm thinking, we?

Oh, he's going to help me?

I can do this.

So he sent me home.

He told me, take all the time you need.

Write down as much as you can remember and let me know when you're ready.

So to the best of my ability.

And I will say now, most of the scams that I ran were in South Bay.

So I didn't do a lot of damage out here in the Valley.

So I'm hoping there are no amends to make in the room tonight.

But I sat with him.

I showed him my list and we came.

And I was about five years sober.

And the first count, because more is always revealed.

But the first count was 469,000.

Yeah, it seemed insurmountable.

It was insurmountable to me as well.

But I had the ability to earn.

And so in 1988 at the Southern California Convention, I was sitting across the table from a fellow and his wife.

And he wasn't sharing with me, but I was eavesdropping.

And he was telling these two ladies, he said, yeah, when I got sober, I owed $250,000.

And he was sober in the 20s at that time.

So you go back 32 for me and then 20 for him.

So $250,000 seemed to equate pretty much to the number I had come up with.

And he said, and his wife, the Al-Anon sitting next to him, he said, the first 10 years of my sobriety, we didn't spend any money unnecessarily.

And she said, mm-hmm.

And he said, we did not take vacations for 10 years.

And she said, mm-hmm.

And he said.

And in 10 years, we had paid off all of that money.

And now we are free.

And she said, mm-hmm.

I'm listening, but I'm thinking to myself, hell, I'm already free.

I ain't getting ready to do any of that.

But the pain set in and the time came.

And I set about the opportunity of ameliorating this debt.

And as my sponsor said, Thomas, they don't want your money.

They just want their money back.

And I got that.

And then the state of California helped me out.

And I did not expect that.

Because you remember the scratch-off game that associated with the TV show, Spin, Spin, Spin?

I hit the scratch-off, Spin, Spin, Spin.

And I went up to Sacramento to take the TV show, spun the wheel, won $100,000.

And that took care of 20%, 25% of the money I owed.

Because the state of California wasn't about.

They weren't about to send me a check until they paid themselves.

And then, as it turns out, they paid the IRS also.

But they were on my list.

So I was going to have to do it anyway.

So my sponsor didn't help out, but the state of California did.

And I appreciated it.

But in 10 years, I was free and have been so ever since.

Then the one thing I had to realize as I read the conference-approved literature,

the big book and many other pieces of literature.

And if you've only read the big book, you're not going to be able to read the big book.

You're still at the beginning of the program.

Remember, Bill wrote the big book three years old.

But he wrote prolifically for another 32 years and completed the program.

And so I understood.

Our movement was founded on spiritual principles.

And though I told you my father was a Methodist minister,

I did not bring the God of my father into this program.

In fact, in my world, I was God.

But that was not going to.

I was going to be able to live happy, joyous, and free.

And so I had to develop a higher power of my own understanding.

One that I would be willing to pay homage to.

And one that would allow my life to change.

To be humble and to be useful and to be willing to my fellows.

And so I adopted all of the principles of the serenity prayer.

I asked for the serenity to accept the things.

I cannot change.

That's you.

I have no power over you.

Nor do I wish any.

But for the courage to change the things I can.

Which is me.

I can change me.

And I have.

And I am still changing.

Mostly for the better.

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Which essentially is tending to my business.

Leaving yours alone.

Thank you.