From Bars to Sobriety: Robert's Journey Through Alcoholism

Now, I would like to introduce our main speaker, Robert M.

Thank you.

Hi, my name is Robert McQuinn, I'm an alcoholic, grateful to God and Alcoholics Anonymous for

my life, and I can't believe I'm sober today, you know, it's just, God, I want to thank

or welcome the two newcomers here that raised their hands, and those who don't, but, and

thank you, Joyce, for your share.

That was just such a great share, I identify with a lot of that stuff, and Tom, thank you

for your share, and Alex, thank you for asking me to speak.

You know, it's an honor to speak in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, and where's Nancy?

Nancy, thank you for showing me around and being such a good greeter.

You know, one of my home groups is Pacific Group, and that's what we do, you know, we

welcome the newcomers, and we have those speaker people that we actually show the speakers

and make them comfortable in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, and anyway, goodness,

where do I start?

From the beginning, right?

You know, when I came in, I loved to drink, first of all, you know, Chuck C., and so does

the book, say, you know, let's talk about the problem, and I didn't see it as a problem,

I loved to drink, I loved the bars, I loved the women, I loved the music, I loved Long

Island iced teas, God, I just love alcohol, man, I just do.

God, back in the days, man, when, I'm a native Californian, one of those rare breeds, you

know, born and raised.

I had a really fun time drinking, you know, back when we had big daddies down there in

Marina Del Rey and all these wonderful places, and, you know, it just, until it cut me to

ribbons, just like the big book talked about, you know.

I'm the type of drinker they talk about on page 21, and I'm the Jekyll and Hyde type,

you know, and, you know, I do horrible, tragic things when I'm drinking, and things that

I would, you know, they're unforgivable.

And when I came to Alcoholics Anonymous, I came in here on a court card, and let me

tell you something, is that I couldn't identify with you guys.

You guys went to school, had homes, and wives, and husbands, and all these things, you know.

I'm an old two-strike felon, and been to prison, jail countless times.

My first DUI was in 1974.

My last one was right over here.

It was off over here at the Copper Bucket.

I just loved that place.

It was just that place where you felt comfortable, you know.

And that was in 2004, October 26, 2004.

I was caught going down the freeway, 148 miles an hour in a Corvette.

You know, I found a hostage.

You know, don't ever get involved with me while I'm drinking, you know.

I found this lady, and I went home.

We're there that night, and she had an open bar at her house, and she said,

I'm tired of all the boys having all the nice toys, and she opened the garage door,

and she had a white Corvette that she just bought.

And she says, let's go for a ride down the coast.

And this is October 26, 2004.

And so, you know, I always need a sponsor.

You know, I need someone to sponsor me when I'm drinking, because usually I don't have

any money or resources, you know what I mean?

So I'll saddle up to you, you know.

So, you know, off we went in this damn Corvette, and we're going down the 134, and I didn't

realize how fast I was going.

It had this little computer screen.

I'm not used to driving anything that nice.

And the next thing you know, I watched the speedometer, and I was driving with one eye

open, one eye closed.

I don't know if any of you guys do that stuff.

Otherwise, if I have both eyes open, I'm like cross-eyed.

And I mean, I'm drunk.

I'm drunk.

And I'm on parole.

And they pulled me out.

They pulled me out.

They pulled me out.

They pulled me over.

And CHP comes up.

They're, how much have you had a drink?

And I said, oh, maybe one, you know, or two.

I said, why?

And they said, you know how fast you were going?

And I says, you know, geez.

Anyway, it was just crazy, crazy stuff, man.

And I'll never forget the look on that lady's face when he came back to the car, and he

ran me.

And he says, you're on parole.

And then that lady looked over at him, and he's, he is.

Like, oh, God.

What did I pick?

Anyway.

You know, I had this wonderful family, man.

And my folks are originally from Tennessee.

My dad was, anyway.

My mom went to Hollywood High over here.

She was born and raised over here in Los Feliz.

Beautiful home.

Beautiful people.

My dad, on the other hand, came from a family out there where they, my grandma used to talk

to me, you know, when I was just a little boy.

And she'd be out there on the back porch snapping peas.

And she'd tell me.

And she'd tell me about Tennessee back in those days, and that they had these, that

they had dirt floors.

I said, Grandma, how'd they keep those clean?

And she says, oh, they were hard-packed, honey.

You know.

And, you know, and her husband died from alcohol, you know.

And I watched her walk through that.

She was a woman of faith.

And I watched, she also lost a couple children.

She had 11 children.

And she lost a couple of them to this disease, including my father.

But she always would have a song in her heart, you know.

One of those kind of women that.

But just had this great faith, you know.

And she'd always be singing hymns.

Anyway, one day I was maybe seven or six years old.

And I went out to her and I says, Grandma, I said, do you think I'll go to heaven?

And she says, oh, honey.

She says, Jesus loves you, you know.

She says, of course you will.

And I'll never want to forget that.

Because she always had a joy in her heart, no matter what happened in life, you know.

I couldn't understand it until I got sober.

You know, she had a power greater than herself that she believed in.

And that she was, she was at peace.

She was at peace with a lot of things.

And she was happy.

In any event, she used to do these little kind things like send me and my three sisters to Bible school, Bible camp, and all that kind of stuff.

I was the only kid in the whole thing that we were sent up there to Idlewild.

And it would be for a whole week.

There'd be horseback riding and swimming and all this kind of stuff.

And where's Bobby?

He's out there smoking, you know, somewhere and missing all the events.

You know, I know today I was bodily indifferent from my fellows, you know.

I was just strangely odd, you know.

Even when I got sober, people would come up to me and say, how are you doing?

And I'd say, that's none of your business.

That's a personal question, you know.

And they'd say, have a nice day.

And I'd tell them, hey, listen, I'll have any kind of day I want.

I was like cactus when I came in here.

You know, I had a good upbringing.

I was out there in Glendora.

And at one point in time, my dad came home drunk from Tennessee.

And I was out there.

And I was out there.

And I was out there.

And I was out there.

And I was out there.

And I found out later on that he was abusive to my mom.

And so he, my mom had, one of his sisters actually put up the money to move me and my

three sisters away from my father before he came home.

And he was on a drunk out there in Tennessee.

And he was coming back home.

And he came home to an empty house.

And I know that he was a drunk.

He probably just drank himself into, you know, into oblivion over that kind of stuff.

He loved his kids.

And I know that for a fact.

And I miss my dad.

And I miss my dad.

And, you know, I was awarded a Bible in 1965 for knowing the Ten Commandments by heart.

And later on, I went and broke all those commandments.

And I know that today.

You know, a couple years ago, you know, I was going up and visiting somebody in county jail

and with another member of Alcoholics Anonymous.

And I thought I left my car door unlocked.

And this person in Alcoholics Anonymous says, oh, well,

you don't have anything to worry about.

You've made all your amends, haven't you?

And I says, oh, wait a minute.

See, I stole the PA system out of that church.

We were going to start a little band, you know.

And I says, oh, God, you know what?

I said, I've approached them several times.

They wouldn't take my money, you know.

And I, you know, I've been trying to make amends to this church, man, for a long time.

And finally, you know, it just bugged me enough, man, where I had several hundred dollars put in a drawer

just to, you know, have it there.

And I said, you know what?

I'm just going to go over there and give them.

Give them some money and make them take it, you know.

And so I went over there a few years ago and I approached them one more time.

This is the third time I went to that church.

And you know what?

The lady that was the pastor of the church says, you know what?

She says, our PA system was just stolen.

So I like it.

I watch how God's timing is with that stuff, you know.

Anyway, you know, once my dad was out of the picture

and my mom was working two jobs on welfare.

We were living in South San Gabriel.

And I go from this little white town in Glendora and get moved in the middle of San Gabriel.

And when I went and they threw me into, I was in junior high in there,

but they threw me back in elementary.

Now, I walked onto the school campus and they had just had a talk.

This is mid-year.

And my dad always made me have crew cuts, you know.

I hated crew cuts.

Anyway, he always had.

I had one too, you know.

Anyway, so I walk in the middle of the year and they just had a talk about

they were going to have student police walking the campus.

And so I fit that bill.

As soon as I arrived there, all my crap went up on the school roof.

And I said, man, I'm never going to that damn school again.

And I didn't.

I didn't.

I ditched school and found some lower companions,

people that were doing home invasions and stuff like that, you know.

Joyce was talking about reds, second all, two and all.

You know, all that good stuff.

Black beauties, mini crosses, all that kind of stuff.

Boy, we were doing all that stuff when we were kids.

And I remember we would, this way before they had cameras and Motorola was the only thing

that you needed to outrun, which was the radio between the cops, you know what I mean?

That kind of stuff.

And we were so young that we would just walk into a liquor store, a whole little gang of us,

man, and we'd just take as much liquor as we can carry and walk out the door.

This was at the Circle K over there in San Gabriel.

We'd throw it over the wall and we'd drink all night.

And, you know, because we were too young to buy it, right?

So anyway, after a while, I'm ditching school all the time.

And I started a little hangout in my garage and carpeted the garage.

Mom's working two jobs and we're on welfare.

Christmas presents are coming from the fire department, the police department, that type of stuff, you know.

And it's always missing that one missing part that was important for the whole toy to work.

Anyway.

No, I'm grateful for that stuff, you know, mac and cheese and hamburger helper and all those kind of things.

Mom worked real hard, you know.

She sacrificed a lot for us kids.

I had three perfect sisters, all of them always telling on me, Bobby's doing this, Bobby's doing that.

And we were hanging out in the garage and all your kids were there, you know.

And whenever we get a phone call at the house and they say, is little Johnny there?

Yes, he's here.

You know, send him home, you know, that kind of stuff.

And we're partying.

We're partying in this little garage and we're playing loud music all night and day.

And anyway, in that kind of element, you know, usually there's girls and boys.

And so, you know, what usually happens in that equation and you're getting drunk and loaded is that somebody comes up pregnant.

And so, yeah, Cheryl came up pregnant and she was 15.

I was 16.

The parents sit us down and say, you know, how are you going to take care of that child?

And I think you should, you know, put it up for adoption and all that kind of stuff.

Well, I'm 16 years old, you know, and I puff up my little chest and I says, I'm going to take care of that kid.

Huh?

You know, how?

How are you going to do that?

I'm going to quit school.

Well, I wasn't going to school anyway.

So anyway, it just doesn't matter.

So, you know, after a while, we set up house and I did the best I could, you know, at that time.

But eventually, you know, alcohol just started to call me, you know.

And, you know, I'll.

You know, your friends back then.

I'm only 16 years old and I'm working full time and trying to take care of these kids, this kid.

And one day, my daughter and she's holding my daughter in her arms up there at Burbank.

We rent this little place out there.

And she waves to me at the top of the stairs and Cheryl's holding her and she's three years old.

And she says, bye, daddy.

I'll see you when you get home.

I don't come home for 28 years.

And this is the kind of stuff that eats a hole in the fabric of your soul that no amount of alcohol could actually actually fill that hole.

And I never want to forget that, you know, even my own flesh and blood.

And, you know, they talk about alcohol being the king, you know, it's more important than anything in my life.

And yet looking back after when you have that guilt, shame and remorse, you say, God, how could I left them like that?

Later on, I got married down there in Culver City and to a wonderful lady that she was a nurse.

And they came to the door and they said, how could you leave us like that?

I said, look, I don't even know if that kid's mine.

You know, talk about selfish and self-centered.

You know, and I look at that daughter of mine today and I do have a relationship with her.

And she looks just like me, unfortunately.

No, she's beautiful.

And she has two grandchildren that's never seen me drunk, you know.

And that took a lot of restoration.

You know, when I was here in Alcoholics Anonymous, you know, I longed to make those things right.

And I started writing her when I was in Alcoholics Anonymous, telling her about just what I was doing here.

And Alcoholics Anonymous.

And the mother would say, don't have anything to do with him.

He'll only hurt you.

But I kept sending these letters and a little bit of money because I was a deadbeat for so many years.

Finally, I got a letter back from her for after a period of time.

And it says, dear Bob, it didn't say dear dad.

She says, I have a father.

His name's Daryl.

And he put me through school and he took me to school.

He held me and took care of me when I was sick.

You know, I love my father.

Thanks for the money.

And that was it.

And I kept.

I kept writing her anyway.

And after a while, she eventually had some questions for me.

So she said, here's my number.

And then she invited me over to her home.

And I got to meet a husband that she married.

This was before they had the kids.

So miracles happen here in Alcoholics Anonymous, despite me.

And I also always questioned, you know, if my motives weren't just to save my own ass rather than really be concerned about her.

Because I was thinking, you know, to injure them or others.

You know, she has a father that she loves and takes care of her.

But anyway, God's in charge of that stuff.

You know, it wouldn't have happened.

You know, Dr. Paul writes, there are no mistakes in God's world in whatever happens.

So anyway, I was married, like I said, to Roberta.

And when they came up to that house and I got bored once again.

And I started riding motorcycles.

And so I'd hang out to this bar.

It's called the Tennessee Bar and Grill in the meat market.

Down there in Culver City on Venice Boulevard.

And I started hanging out with some real men.

Now, these guys were some violent gangs and bike clubs, all those kind of things.

And before long, I met another her.

And she was a made woman through another.

She's like Gemma.

You guys ever see Sons of Anarchy?

She was an untouchable woman.

And all the clubs respected her.

Anyway, I got in a relationship with her.

It was fabulous.

And we set up house down there in Venice.

And they were making money, a lot of money.

And they showed me a way to make that money.

And so I became a doctor of sorts.

And I learned to write Latin and fill out prescriptions.

And before long, I was pumping 5,000 pills down there on Crenshaw and Adams.

And 109th and Main and 59th and Halldale.

I was this guy riding.

It's red and white Harley-Davidson.

And when I'd go down the street, I'd be playing that song by Peter Gabriel.

Big time.

So much larger than life.

And I had it made, you know.

In seven years, I generated $3.5 million.

We had this beautiful home in Culver City, the pool and everything else in the backyard.

She also had a—Denise had a daughter that was through this guy that was in this really violent motorcycle club.

And they were both protected, both of them.

Very, very protected.

So we were the cool parents.

And so if you're going to, you know, get drunk or get wasted, you know what I mean?

We'd rather have her doing it in front of us.

And so, you know, we had this house and she had her little friends.

And they were all doing meth, in which I was not a big fan of that stuff.

But she also drank Cisco to come down.

And one day, one day, her little body couldn't process that Cisco.

And she was beautiful, strawberry blonde little girl, Phyllis.

And then she started to get a distended stomach and she started swelling up.

And, I mean, she was gorgeous.

Greatest little heart you ever did know with anybody.

And I love Phyllis, man.

I really, really do.

And when she wound up down there in Long Beach General and her eyes were solid yellow

and her body could no longer process any of those things, all of her organs were starting to shut down.

And I knew that she was sick and addicted to some of this.

And I knew that she was sick and addicted to some of this stuff that I was singing and slinging out there on the streets.

And I came down there to visit her.

Nobody was visiting her.

She used to have a whole wealth of friends, you know, so-called friends.

Anyway, she's laying in the hospital bed.

And I come up alongside of the hospital bed and she says, she said, Bob, I knew of all the people that would come, it would be you.

And she's in tears.

She says, I knew you would come.

And she says to me, tell me about God.

And she's laying in the hospital bed.

And I felt like Satan himself.

I'm sitting here in all this leather and cuts and all this stuff and dirt.

I'm a dirty, filthy biker.

And I'm walking there and I reach in my pocket and I pull out a syringe.

I said, here, honey, I brought you something to get well.

She went in that bathroom and she came back out and I sat with her for some time and left.

She was happy that I visited, went home.

And then the following day, we get the phone call that her little body couldn't, all those organs did eventually shut down.

And that stuff ripped a hole in the fabric of my soul.

You know, I knew the 23rd Psalm.

I did.

I could have told her those kind of things.

I was raised with that stuff.

You know, I could have told her about God.

Could have done just like my grandma did, you know.

Yes, God loves you.

No matter what you do, he'll forgive you.

But I didn't do that.

So every single day, I'm watching Denise.

This is her daughter, you know, my stepdaughter at the time.

We're together 19 years by this time.

We had each other's back for the whole time.

And we had a good run out there.

And eventually, all those drugs that we were putting out there, you know, started to deplete.

And.

One by one, every one of the assets, all that dirty money, that blood money, man, started to go.

We started to sell off everything.

The flat bottom boat, motorhome, and 53 MG, and the 59 Volvo, and the 57 Chevy.

Last thing to go out that driveway was that motorcycle.

But we still had each other.

We still had each other.

By this time, we checked into this little clinic up on Pico in Sepulveda.

And prior to that, I had managed to do a little dirty deal on the backside.

You know?

And I didn't want her to know.

And I had a little extra money in my pocket.

And we come out of there.

It's in the corner of Pico in Sepulveda.

And it's a bright, sunny day.

And I know that when I want to get away from you, I'm going to get in an argument.

You know, one of those kind.

And I get in this argument with her on that corner.

That same corner we've been crossing for seven years together.

And I get in an argument with her.

And I said, listen, just go wait for me across the street.

I'm going to go across the street and get a cup of coffee.

So I go get a cup of coffee.

And.

And a little boy comes running in and says, Mr., Mr.

And he's pointing.

And I look down the end of his finger.

And there's Denise laying about three-quarters of the block in the middle of the street.

And in a blind rage of anger that I put her in, she crossed that street.

That same street that we always cross together.

And she got hit by a cement truck.

I run over to her side.

It was like slow motion.

I remember the ambulance came.

And we both get in the ambulance.

And now I'm thinking, gosh.

You know.

So we go up there to UCLA.

And they save her.

They save her.

They get her completely.

Out of the woods.

Completely.

They remove a ruptured spleen.

And the only thing that remained that she needed to get fixed was a broken hip.

Okay.

They were going to set a pin in that hip the following day.

So happy that she was going to be all right.

I actually went in that recovery room.

And I saw her, you know, that day.

And she, when she sees me in that bed, first thing she says is, I love you.

So I went home to go spend that money that I was hiding.

And thinking about a potential lawsuit that she was a pedestrian and got hit in the crosswalk.

I was going like, hot dog.

We're going to have money again.

Well, later on that, the next day, I get a phone call.

And it's from UCLA.

And UCLA proceeds to tell me that, Mr. McElwain, we need you down here.

And I'm smart.

I'm street smart.

I know that if you're calling me, there's something wrong.

So I go up there to UCLA.

And they proceed to tell me that when they were setting the pin in that hip,

the anesthesiologist had the oxygen going down into her stomach cavity instead of into her esophagus.

And she was without oxygen for seven minutes.

She flatlined several times.

They brought her back to life.

She was responding to pain.

The way you know that is they take a needle and they prick your toe.

And if your toe reacts, you have some type of brain activity.

And now, this is where it gets to this point.

This is where the big book talks about you can't imagine life with or without alcohol.

Every single day, I'm going to that woman's bedside.

Every single day, she's in that coma.

She slipped into that coma.

For five years, she's in that coma.

Every single day, I can't get drunk enough to stop that.

Those last words that she said to me, I love you.

Every single day.

Every day, I can't be sober.

And I can't get drunk.

It's just, that stuff is just, every day I'm thinking about, you lost the love of your life.

Somebody you've been with for 19 years over your selfishness.

And so, I go on a mission to try and take my own life.

And I try several times.

They pump me full of charcoal.

They bring me back to life.

And I'd curse at God.

And I'd say, why am I still here?

You took that little girl.

You took Denise.

I said, you know I don't want her.

I don't want to be here.

And one of the biggest jokes that God ever had was having me have a primary purpose.

You know, I went to prison one last time.

I robbed a couple people on the streets, not caring.

I was wandering the streets, crying in the rain.

It was cold.

And a couple women stepped off a bus.

And they said, I went up to them and said, give me your money or else.

And one woman ran off and got her husband and followed me home.

The other woman trembled.

And she said, I don't want to be here.

And I took $10 out of her wallet and handed it back to him.

So the Superior Court gets me in front of them one more time.

And the district attorney says, listen, he should get six years and six years, two counts,

211, back-to-back 211.

And the judge, I love judges, they said, listen, I see something else going on with him.

He says, I'm not going to give him that amount of time.

And they put me into.

On a court card here in Alcoholics Anonymous.

So I get out and I come to you guys on a court card.

I can't relate with you.

I heard a guy, Johnny Harris, speaking about those things that he did.

And he'd talk about, I did those things.

It wasn't the alcohol that did those things.

I did those things.

I had to take responsibility for it.

So there my journey started in Alcoholics Anonymous.

Now, when I came in here, I also had no employment.

Remember where I came from.

You guys gave me a commitment.

It was a greeter at the door.

And by that time, I went into a center divider and all my teeth were missing.

And if you're new, don't worry.

They grow back eventually.

I went into a center divider on a motorcycle and all this stuff was knocked out.

This eye was on his cheek.

And this is one of those real tragic accidents, man, on La Cienega.

I passed out at the wheel on a motorcycle.

And I said, greeter?

He said, what am I going to greet with?

I can't even smile.

I hung my head down.

And I was just absolutely desperate.

When I was sitting in prison that time, a guy comes skipping in and he was happy.

He's happy to be in prison.

And he says, I had it good out there.

He says, I found Alcoholics Anonymous.

I was three years sober.

And I said, did you bring anything to read?

And he says, I got this big book.

And I said, I don't want to read that self-help crap.

And he said, there's some stories in the back, Robert.

And he went to sleep.

And he says, read some of the stories.

And so I read one of the stories.

And I read another one.

And then I identified with a line in there.

Because I remember staring out that little bulletproof glass in prison one more time.

And it says, we, the collective we, here in Alcoholics Anonymous.

We know loneliness like no other.

Remember?

Toward the end of your drinking?

Being completely alone.

And I come in here to you guys, Alcoholics Anonymous.

And eventually, I get a commitment.

And I eventually stayed on that court card.

And when I went and I fought the CDC, which is the California Department of Corrections,

I said, look, I've done my time.

I don't have to do meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.

They proceeded to tell me, you're right.

You don't ever have to drive with a valid license again.

And I said, look, you can take away my license.

But you'll never be able to take away my ability to drive.

I was just so cocky and arrogant.

Isn't that true?

And despite me, you know, after a while and sitting with you guys,

I found out that life runs a certain way.

Life on life's terms, you know, and all that kind of stuff.

And I've got to figure this thing out, you know.

You get in line and stay your wheel being, you know,

you know, out of line, you know, you get it straight

and it will pretty much roll straight.

And so anyway, the alcoholic life was the only one I knew.

And so eventually, you guys told me I needed to get a job, you know.

And I said, well, they asked me, what's your resume look like?

And I said, I don't have a resume.

And they said, well, what did you used to do?

And I said, I sold drugs.

And they said, great, you're a salesman, go apply.

And I was going to go and show you that's not, you know, going to happen.

You know, I'm a two-strike felon by this time and no history.

Do you have any kind of employment?

Well, my first job was life alert.

You know, they said, if you can read off this paper, we'll give you a job.

And it was like, you know, that thing, I've fallen and I can't get up.

Well, anyway, I'm working for life alert.

And then that little job, you know, turned into another job and another job.

And I had open enrollment for dental and all those kind of things.

And they told me that it was going to cost $60,000.

They were all this dental and implants and all that kind of stuff.

And they grew back.

And eventually that job led into another job.

And here's God, man, I'll tell you, I handle a lot of sensitive information.

My job today is I'm a federal task force specialist through the GSA department.

How the hell does that happen?

I got to go visit the Department of Finance and Securities with military clearance

and walk on a military base where there's all this sensitive information.

And I go like, how the heck does that happen?

If it wasn't for Alcoholics Anonymous.

Now, I had a lot of stuff that I had a lot of guilt, shame, and remorse when my dad died.

And he was calling for his only son on his deathbed.

And I couldn't let him see what I'd become.

And when he passed away, you know, I always had a little bit of guilt, a lot, a lot.

I missed my dad.

I missed him ever since he was taken away from me by my mother.

Well, all that stuff wasn't true, you know.

I found out the real truth, you know.

Listen, when my mom got remarried,

I got married to this man, and he says, I'll take those three girls, but I'm not taking him.

I had a lot of resentment towards my mom.

And you know what?

The truth was, through a little inventory work, is that I wouldn't have taken anyone like me either.

I wouldn't.

But anyway, the fact remained that I still had this awful ache, man, about my dad.

So a wonderful member of Alcoholics Anonymous, Clint Hodges, he's not with us anymore.

He told me one night, he says, you know, you can make amends to people that passed away in your life.

And I said, that's impossible.

And he said, no, you can't.

And he caught me at just that right moment of where I had this awful hole inside of me.

And he says, Robert, he says, tonight, when you go home, I want you to vision your father across from you

and write down everything that you wish you could have told him.

And I took his advice, and I wrote my father.

And when I was done, he says, I want you to take that letter and go read it at your father's gravesite.

Take someone with you.

And I did those.

I took those actions.

And I'm telling you, I couldn't get three lines out of that damn letter that I wrote without just sobbing.

And here's what I found out, that God knows a sincere heart, that when you're really sincere and really definitely need that, you know, that healing, that he'll come.

And they said, after that, I want you to burn that letter and watch the smoke rise up to your father in heaven, you know.

And I was able to walk a little bit more free.

And after a while, you know, most of us want to get in a relationship again.

So I was having some failed relationships.

And one day, you know, I probably had about five years sober.

And they kept just falling apart.

You know, I'd date somebody, and then the next thing you know.

So anyway, there's two types of people that come into Alcoholics Anonymous.

Types like that need rehabilitation, that had stuff out there.

And then there's types like me that need to be habilitated.

Now, I had no, you know, the alcoholic life was the only one I knew.

Man, I'm a felon.

I do things, you know, I get my way or the highway and all that kind of stuff.

So anyway, one time I'm hearing you guys read the 12 traditions.

And it says, the traditions are to the group.

What the steps are to the individual.

Now, with my keen alcoholic mind, I'm watching people that don't ordinarily mix

be able to put on a meeting with Alcoholics Anonymous.

And I'm thinking, the traditions.

That's what I'm missing in my life.

So with a little bit of help from you guys, they said,

Robert, I want you to read the 12 and 12 in the 12 traditions

and replace the word Alcoholics Anonymous with you and whoever you're with.

Instead of, like, for instance, the fifth line in the first tradition,

it says, without group unity, the heart of Alcoholics Anonymous,

would cease to beat.

Well, without group unity, I'll be heartbroken.

That's what that meant to me.

This is what I did in that fifth line.

Without group unity, and I don't learn this thing,

I'm going to be heartbroken over and over again.

Well, he writes on that same first tradition.

And I know that many of you have been heartbroken before, I'm sure.

But without group unity, our hearts would cease to beat.

On that same first tradition, it states this.

Bill writes, each individual here in Alcoholics Anonymous

has a right to think, act, and talk as they wish.

Bill puts another very important,

spiritual thing in it, without being punished or expelled.

What do we do when somebody comes up and they don't follow the format?

Keep coming back, right?

So I had to learn to take these traditions into my home.

She's got a right to think, act, and talk as she wishes, right?

And I can't give her the punishment, you know, when you're,

just turn on my side.

That is punishment, by the way.

Anyway, because she's got a right to think, act.

I mean, I saw how it worked in Alcoholics Anonymous

with these people that don't normally, total strangers,

getting along in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.

And then,

you know, about, my sponsor turned to me one day, and he says,

we have one ultimate authority, a loving God,

who's going to express himself in our group.

You know, and he says, we do not govern.

See, I don't get a chance to govern anything but my own life.

You know, I don't get to govern you.

You know, the fifth tradition talks about the language of the heart.

That's what we do up here.

And the only requirement, the third tradition about, you know,

the requirement that you want to be here, you know,

and that we're attraction, not promotion.

All these kinds of things started to come to life in Alcoholics Anonymous,

through your traditions, because I had no guidelines with those kind of things.

Tradition seven, about being fully self-supporting through my own contributions.

When you would disappoint me or reject me, do I have a life big enough?

Listen, I have to be fully self-supporting through my own contributions.

Declining anything outside of me, am I okay without that?

Anything that gives me happiness, pleasure, this, this.

If that's taken away, am I fully self-supporting emotionally?

To be able to continue and be happy and whole.

One time, Tradition Nine, I love Tradition Nine.

It's about rotational leadership here in Alcoholics Anonymous, right?

Well, every good idea doesn't have to be mine and it doesn't get to be mine.

One day, Monique comes up to me and this is my ex.

She says, Robert, I want to go to San Francisco and watch the Nutcracker play

and get dressed to the nines on Christmas and watch the Nutcracker.

Now, of course, I have my own ideas and what I think, you know,

but you guys,

you taught me about rotational leadership.

Okay, Robert.

Oh, time's up.

Gosh, dang it.

Anyway, I better stop.

But I cannot tell you enough about the traditions.

I'll just end with this really quickly about Tradition 12.

This to the end, our great gifts will never spoil us.

To practice a genuine humility.

Does that mean there's going to be times where I'm going to be asked to do things I don't want to do?

Wouldn't that be practicing a genuine humility?

This to the end, our great blessings will never spoil us.

That will live in forever.

And thankful contemplation of him who presides over us all.

Thank you for my life.

Amen.

Amen.