From First Sip to 19 Years Sober: David's Journey

Good evening, my name is David and I'm an alcoholic.

First off, I'd like to thank Nathan for inviting me out tonight doing it like no one said,

doing anything in Alcoholics Anonymous is an honor and a privilege.

And thank you, Nolan, for your ten minutes, you got me a little meeting there.

If you're new, I want to welcome you to Alcoholics Anonymous, and I hope you found what I have

found here, and that is a way to live without the use of anything that affects you from

the neck up.

And I did not know how to do that for a very, very, very long time.

If I could manage to stay sober for the next 11 days, I will be turning 19 years sober,

which is nothing short of a miracle for me.

I took my first drink at 12 years old, I took my last one at 49 and a half years old.

You know, in that 37 year period, my disease took me to places that I would not wish on

my worst enemy.

You know, and my drinking didn't start out that way, my drinking started out fairly innocent.

I have an older sister, or have an older sister that's 13 months older than me.

My mother divorced my dad when we were two years old, because she grew up in an alcoholic

home, and after three years of marriage to him, she realized she was married to a drunk,

and she wasn't going to raise her kids in that environment, so she did the best she

could.

But what happened was, when I was nine years old, she met a, my mom was a cocktail waitress,

so she met a gentleman at the bar she was working at, and they got married, and we bought

a house at Wild Plenty, and everything on the outside seemed real nice.

I saw the effects produced by alcohol very early on, you know, they would drink on the

weekends and have parties, and things would go good, I'd watch my stepdad, he'd get sloppily

drunk, my mom would get pissed, there'd be an argument, he'd pass out, and she, she was

always the last one up.

And you know, the arguments, they really affected my sister, not me so much, I wouldn't mind

doing my own business, but when I was around 12 years old, my stepfather was from Tennessee,

and he made like, I don't know, I think it was like 20 cases of malt liquor, and he had

it all bottled in the garage, and I woke up one morning, there was broken glasses in the

sink, my stepdad was passed out on the couch, and my mom was locked in a room, and I got

this thought, I'm gonna go get my best friend who lives across the street, and grab two

six patches of this beer, and we're gonna go up in the hills behind the house and drink

this stuff.

And that's what it's all about, you know, and we did that, Kevin and I went back there,

we climbed up into this old carpentry overlooking the valley, and we, you know, we started drinking

that beer, and after about the second beer, you know, we started getting the effects of

it.

It was a little goofy, and we was joking around, and we basically, one of us lost our balance,

pulled both of us out, and we landed in a patch of cactus.

That was, that was the result of the first time I drank alcohol.

You know, it makes me an alcoholic, I believe, is what happened the next day, because we

crawled, we went down the hill, his sister pulled a stick down her butt, and we left

six packs sitting up there, and I'll, you know, go through the only consequences, I

didn't get caught, my mom didn't know nothing about it, but the first thing that happened

in the next morning when I woke up was, first thing on my mind is, there's still a six pack

of beer up there, and somebody needs to drink that.

So I went across the street to Kevin's house and knocked down his window, and I said, "Hey,

come on, let's go up and finish that beer."

And he gave me that look, the first of very many throughout my life, was, "Are you crazy?"

You know, like, my head hurts, my stomach feels like hell, and I'm still pulling stickers

out of my butt, and I'm like, "No, no, no, I got a solution to that, we won't get up

in the tree, we'll sit on the ground and drink it."

And he refused to go, so I went up there and drank that six pack of beer all by myself.

And I loved it because it took away, what alcohol did for me is it took away my fears,

it took away my inhibitions, it made everything okay.

You know, I didn't care if my mom and my stepdad beat themselves to death anymore, I had no

concern about that, all I was concerned about was me, you know, and around that time I started

working for my stepdad's tire store, so I learned how to earn money, and by the time

I was 16, I didn't drink every day, but I drank as often as I could, and we also started

smoking pot, sniffing glue, anything to get me out of my own head.

So by the time I was 16, I had money in the bank, I had a car, and I decided I didn't

want to live at my mom's house no more because she had rules, and rules didn't apply to me,

you know.

So I moved out.

You know, I did really good in school, I still went to school on my own, so I got an apartment

out in Convenience, and was going to school until my truck broke down, and work was closer

to school, so I quit school halfway through my senior year, which I was only supposed

to go like half-term, because I only had plenty of credits to graduate.

But when I left home at 16, I had two tools, I had a good work ethic, and I knew how to

drink and not fall down.

For me, drinking was a skill, something that you worked on, you know, and like I said,

I used to watch my mom at the parties, and she'd always be the last one up when everybody

else was passing out.

Well, I found out why, she had these little white pills with crosstown solvents that she

used to take, which, you know, helped her completely great.

So that was my second tool to add to my drinking.

I could drink all night with those little white pills, I loved it.

You know, and my drinking, you know, when I moved out, I basically burned my life to

the ground by the time I was 18.

The tire store closed up, my stepdad's drinking, and when he lost that, they started losing

the house.

So at 18, I wound up, I lost my own apartment, got kicked out, because I couldn't pay the

rent anymore, and I was drinking around the clock.

So my next good idea was, I'm going to join the military.

And I love the military, I love the structure, it did a lot for me, but also when it also

showed me that, you know, the military didn't care how much I drank as long as I showed

up to do my job, you know, which was great.

I was a helicopter mechanic, I was very good at my job, and, you know, when it came time

to re-enlist, after two years, they were going to let me go to flight school.

I passed all the tests, I was going to become a helicopter fighter between one of my dreams,

you know, but they said, "David, you need to quit drinking," you know, because at the

time I was getting in a few fights and couldn't see up close, because people would have a

chance to piss me off sometimes.

And that's what we did in the military, we drank and we fought, that's, you know, we

did that for, you know, for entertainment, not that we were mad at each other, because

we'd get in a fight one day and be best friends and that stuff.

And that's another thing I loved about alcohol, is that it would make me forget things that

happened the night before, you know, and so they told me, so I decided, I told the military,

"No, thank you," you know, "Nobody's going to tell me I haven't lived my life."

I got European out and I spent the next nine months traveling through Europe to a wine

festival, a beer festival, wherever there was a party, I went to it, and I loved it.

When I come back from the military, I got into construction very early on and started

making a lot of money, you know, and now when I was 22 years old, I wanted to get six drunk

drive-ins in one year in three different counties.

Back then, you can't, you can get away with back then, but not now.

I got three first defenses, one in L.A., one in San Bernardino, and one in Orange County.

And then about two months later, I got one in each one of those counties again.

And what my solution to that was just a little white powder called cocaine, you know, so

I got a problem, I never got another drunk drive-in again.

But what I did do was I got a cocaine habit that took probably every dime I earned for

the next 15 years, because I was doing cocaine alcoholically because I wanted to drink like

I wanted to drink, so I had to enhance that with that substance, and I couldn't snort

it no more because I burned a hole in my nose, so this guy got me out of free vacation.

You know, I was working, I was a heavy equipment operator and a bike layer for a big underground

company, and I was making a lot of money, I was making $3,000 to $4,000 a week, you

know, and nobody told me what to do with that money, so basically I'd buy case, Scott's

Buy the Case, he's gonna buy cocaine by the pound because God knows I don't want to run

out.

And you know, my 20s was a lot of fun, making a lot of money and living irresponsibly is

a lot of fun, went to a lot of music festivals, went to Vegas a lot, a lot of concerts, a

lot of parties, went out six nights a week, I mean, it was kind of a blur.

Honestly, I don't know how I survived it, but things started getting pretty shaky towards

the end of the 80s, I mean, between '86 and '89.

By this time, I'm smoking a quarter ounce of cocaine and I'm drinking around the clock,

and I'm still working 12 to 15 hour days, you know, on my job.

My solution to being on the job is, you know, we were working in San Diego, I was living

in Cucamonga, so I had this bright idea, why am I paying rent here, I bought a trigger

and I moved my trigger on the job, so when we were working, that's where I lived, and

we always had our compound right next to a bar, which is always convenient.

And like I said, I started having seizures from smoking coke, because of the amount I

was doing, and not sleeping, I was probably sleeping eight hours a week if I was lucky,

and that was more or less laying down and vibrating.

I would not do cocaine at work, I did crystal meth at work, but I still drank around the

clock because I always had a nice dress with me, full of beer and a bottle of Eggemeister,

because that was my go-to by that time.

You know, I was going to say, I don't know how I survived it.

In '89, I got a little scared, because I had a couple seizures in one night, of course

my girlfriend left, because I destroyed every relationship I ever got into, because they

would ask those hard questions, like, why do you drink so much, why are you doing so

much drugs, and if you start asking me those questions, you gotta go, you know, including

my family.

I basically abandoned my family, because they kept asking me the same questions.

And the honest truth is, I didn't have an answer for me, which is why I, you know, which

is why I didn't answer them, and I got to get them out of my life, because I can't answer

that question.

Why do I drink so much?

Because of what it does for me, you know, again, gave me that ease of comfort, it made

my perception of life seem manageable, so to speak, I guess, I don't know, it was insane.

So anyway, in '89, I got a little scared, so I talked up my stuff, threw it in my truck,

and of course I drove to Mama's house and said, "Mama, I need to get some help."

We went over to the West Side VA to a 28-day program there, you know, and I've got to be

honest with you, I never intended on quick drinking, but I had to get rid of that cocaine

head, because I knew it was killing me, and what happened was, it was a 28-day program,

I was in there on the second day talking to a conditioner who worked over in UCLA, and

for the first time I was honest about my drug use and my drinking to somebody, and she told

me that they had this research thing going on over at UCLA for chronic cocaine users,

and that would I like to join the research, and I'm like, "Well sure, I'm thinking she's

going to give me this magic answer to solve my drug addiction."

What happened was, for the next seven days, they paid me $300 a day to smoke crack while

they observed me, and had me answer questions, I mean, it was great, you know, and I'd go

back to the rehab, I'd go back to the rehab that night, and of course at an interview,

they had no idea what I was doing over there, you know, and somebody would bring an H9 to

an ambulance, so I'm sitting in the back there, blah blah blah blah, thinking about, you know,

what time is it, are we going back to UCLA yet?

So after that seven days, I asked if they had any other research things going on, and

they said, "Well we got this one for chronic marijuana smoking, well I haven't spoken pot

for 30 years, so I joined on that one for, that one was 12 days, and that one only paid

me $100 a day, unfortunately."

So basically what I got out of that rehab was about $3200 in my pocket because I collected

some disability, and I had this brand new plan, you know, this clinician told me, "David,

you're not going to quit until you're tired of living the way you're living."

And you know, I heard her, but I didn't hear her, so my new plan was, my problem is construction,

I make too much money for my own good, you know, I had no bank account because I closed

my bank account a long time ago, because I always had warrants after my arrest, you know,

people were always looking for me, at least in my mind.

And so my new plan was, I'm going to go to school, get a license to carry a gun, I'm

going to move to Vegas and become an armed spirit, I love Vegas, you can create for free

in Vegas, you know, that's a plan, you know, and I'll get away from the cocaine, you know,

this plan sounded really good to me.

So I did exactly that, I went out to Vegas, I still had like $3500, you know, in my pocket,

I got a hotel room, I go to the room, I grab the six pack of beer, I'm sitting there sipping

on the beer, smoking cigarette, watching the sun come down, the guy next door to me comes

out of the room blowing out these big puffle whites, well, it's no great familiar.

Long story short, three days later, I'm living underneath the bridge behind the Plaza Hotel

with my duffel bag, wondering what the hell happened again.

You know, I spent the next 10 years underneath that bridge, believe it or not, you know,

I still worked every day, I would, you know, I'd go out and I'd get day labored, I hooked

up with some guys, because I'm a hell of a worker, I could not work with two or three

people and I'm very talented with what I do, you know, but the minute that money would

hit my hand, it was like, it was a long day, I deserve a couple beers, I could have a couple

beers.

Yeah, and I'd go in and I'd have a couple beers and then I'd have a couple of shots

a day, and actually I know I'm stepping out the door and talking to the next few behind

the bar, picking up another quarter of your crap, and actually I know it's four o'clock

in the morning, and this went on for 10 years, day in, day out, and I gotta tell you, you

know, living on the streets and being around people that are on the streets, you see human

beings do some horrible things to each other, I mean, I don't know, alcohol helped me survive

that, because I don't think if I was drinking, I could have, I would have did what a friend

of mine did one night, I was sitting up underneath the bridge and I used to drink with this guy

by the railroad tracks, and I seen him walking down the tracks one night about one o'clock

in the morning, drunk as a scoundrel, and I saw him laying down on the tracks and throwing

his blanket over him, 10 minutes later, the Amtrak took him away, you know, and my thought

was like, okay, we're gonna put that back here, if it ever gets that bad, you know,

that'd look painless, but you know, what happened was how I got off the streets out there was

my mom got sick with her diabetes, and apparently I'd given my sister a number of a guide that

I worked for in Vegas, and he came downtown to downtown Las Vegas and found me sitting

in the clock on a del on Sunday, which is where I spent my Sundays, because I had champagne

brunch for free, and told me I had to get home to see my mom's student dying, he bought

me a plane ticket, because I didn't have anybody, and God bless his family, I had to go back

and do an event with him, I'll get to that in a minute, because that's kind of funny,

but I went back home, you know, I went to my, I went and saw my mom at the hospital,

she died the next day, you know, when she saw me, and you know, my brother and sister,

they basically, I have a little brother that's 11 years younger than me, and they helped

clean out the house, and then they left, and so I stayed there with my stepdad, and we

decided to buy a house over in Whittier, and at this time when I came back, I, you know,

I got rid of the cocaine habit, I just quit cocaine, I just couldn't do it no more, but

I went back, you know, I never stopped drinking, but I did get away from the anger, I just

went to, you know, maintaining, I guess you would call controlling my, controlling and

enjoying my drink, or I was controlling it, because I wasn't enjoying it, because when

you drink like that, it just makes it worse, as far as I'm concerned.

My problem when I don't drink the way I want to drink, is I'm left with every reason why

I did, and I'm left with all the things that I did in my past that I can't live with, because

I was a liar, a cheat, and a thief, and I hurt a lot of people along the way, a lot

of them, there were strangers, no, you would think hurting a stranger wouldn't bother you,

but when you wake up with that on your mind in the morning, I get a drink, I've got to

make that stuff go down, and I thought I'd drowned all that crap, but all of a sudden

this stuff starts floating through the top every morning, and that's how I'm waking up,

you know.

I used to call waking up pissed off, my sponsor called me restless, irritable, and discontent,

you know, I'm like, that's it, I've been waking up that way for years, you guys have words

for this, what happened here?

And so over the next six years, I was living there one year with my stepfather, my mom

had died, my stepfather worked 37 years for his school district, and when he retired,

basically, he was drunk, basically, he'd wake up in the morning, have a cup of coffee, and

then he'd drink beer all day long, scratch in the evening, and then pass out, and you

know, and I'm watching him, his health go to hell, and I'm watching him, you know, drink

himself to death, mind you, I'm in the garage doing my thing, and by this time, after about

the second year, in Whittier, like I said, my drink was somewhat controllable for about

six months, and then I thought, yeah, you might stream back into the picture, because

I love that stuff, it gets me there, I could time, I could take two shots, and I could

time it, it's like, after about two minutes, it's like, oh, here we are, the problem is

that you just gotta maintain that throughout the day, oh, and my sister moved to, moved

to Kansas, so basically, I felt like I was stuck with my stepdad, and I'm watching him

drink himself to death, basically, I'm looking at my future, and I got on December 1st of

2006, I woke up very irritable, very discontent, my stepfather just got out of the hospital

with pneumonia, he's smoking two packs a day, and he's still drinking throughout the day,

you know, throughout the day, and I went to the garage, I called my sister, cussed her

out, knocked my sister about nine o'clock at night, I found myself inside that house,

cussing my stepfather out, telling him how he ruined my life, how he caused my mother's

death, and if he didn't straighten his shit out, I was gonna dig a hole and throw his

ass in, which probably wasn't very smart, I was holding on to handheld crossbow, which

I modified to shoot 60 and couldn't get under the stucco wall, and I wasn't gonna shoot

him with it, you know, I think he took it all wrong, but long story short, an hour later

I was arrested for assault with a deadly weapon, a felony assault on an elder, and a felony

terrorist stretch, I woke up from one year in jail, asking the judge, what the hell,

it was just a drunken army, you know, in my mind, I mean, I could picture the whole thing,

I didn't see what the problem was, but now I'm looking at six years in prison, you know,

and they had me up at Wayside for, they gave me six months, six years of felony probation,

with a six year suspended sentence hanging over my head, and they let me out of jail

on January 1st of 2006, they should have released me earlier, but I had a restraining order

hearing on the 29th, so they wanted to make sure I was locked up, that I didn't make it

to the restraining order hearing, so when I got out of there, I basically had to close

on my back, because in that 30 day period, my stepfather got rid of all my tools, got

rid of my truck, all my clothes, and had a three year restraining order in Michigan,

the only other person that would actually talk to me was my natal father in San Bernardino,

I spent the next 26 days across the street, and this guy that I smoked crystal meth, he

was living in their garage, trying to come up with another plan, because this was not

the first time that I've burnt my life to the ground, I had done it several times over

the years, but something was different this time, I couldn't come up with another excuse,

you know, or drink myself up into, drink myself into another plan, and what happened was,

you know, on the 27th, I was tired and I was desperate, and this girl that was living in

the house, I saw her, she stashed a bunch of sleeping pills, and I got a hold of them,

drank those things down, I wrote in the back of this bible that I brought back from jail,

and, you know, God, I have no family to speak of, contact the VA, they'll get rid of the

bottom, but I washed those pills down with the cordia in my suit.

What happened with that was about three hours later, apparently after I tore that garage

apart, took the shelves down, I, yeah, Irene come into the garage and said, "David, you

gotta go," and I walked out of that garage cold stone, so we went up, I need to get to

San Bernardino, talk to my dad, and I need to get myself some help, because I knew there

was a VA out there in San Bernardino level, which is actually where I was born, and, you

know, I wanted to get some help.

When I got to my dad's, my step-mom, of course, I called my half-brother and half-sister,

and that Sunday morning, they had a little pow-wow at church about what are they going

to do with David because I showed up.

They knew my dad wouldn't ask me to leave, for a lot of reasons, a lot of it was his

own guilt for not being in my life for a lot of it, and I, you know, I played on that.

What happened was this friend of his family that I knew when we were kids, a guy named

Raymond P., showed up at church that day, and got into a conversation, and he asked

him, "Wait a minute, before you guys go attack him, let me talk to him."

You know, Raymond came to the help house, and as far as last time I saw Raymond, he

was living on the streets of San Bernardino, the help was harrowing that.

I honestly thought he'd be dead.

When he told me, "David, if you want some help, I went to this program called New Directions

at Westside VA, it's a year-long program.

They've got a lawyer that will help you out with your legal issues.

Do you want to go?"

Yeah, I mean, Raymond looked great, and so I said yes.

Now alcohol can play there, too, because they were going to get me right up to that Sunday

morning, and before we got in the car, I had to stop at the liquor store and get me a half-pinty

a divisor and get me a 24-ounce Budweiser, and I'd drive taffeta drinks to Aberdeen

and Brentwood to get me through that front door, because what you didn't see, a little

disclaimer, this is not what I looked like when I walked into that program.

I had hair all the way down my back, I had a mustache down to here, I had four teeth

up in my head, and what you couldn't see is I had a hole in my soul that you could drive

the truck through, and I was desperate, you know, desperate enough to ask for help, probably

for the first time in my life, you know, and out of that desperation, I found the ability

to hear somebody else.

I went up to detox that night, a six-foot-four black man sat across the table from me, and

he looked me straight in the eye and said, "David, your problem's not drugs and alcohol,

your problem's you."

And I slid back in my chair, and I'm like, "How the hell can you say that?

You don't even know me."

And for the next 10 minutes, this man went on to tell me about how he lived on the streets

of Compton, pushing a cart, drinking and smoking every day when he didn't want to.

You know, he had a big book, an old big book sitting in front of him, and he slid across

to me and said, "I found myself in that book, I think you're playing yourself."

And I tried to give it back to him, he said, "No, I want you to keep this."

And he said, "I want you to pass that on to me as you help other people."

You know, and I'm grateful for that program.

It was a year-long program, a lot of it's structured, to say the least.

We weren't allowed to go anywhere for 30 days, and anywhere we went for the next six months,

we had to have somebody else with us, nothing alone.

But what that program did for me is it gave me time to work this program like it's designed

in the big book.

After about 30 days, I went to a meeting over in Brentwood.

It was a three-person panel, and I see it as gratitude now, but at the time, this was

like my second AA meeting.

These people were emotional and crying in the beginning, the middle, and the end of

the story.

And I'm like, "Oh, God, shoot me now.

If I'm going to do this the rest of my life, I'm going to drink."

And then the next week, one of the guys in the house talked about going to this meeting

on the other end of campus, which was Sunday night, Ohio.

You know, and I walked into that room.

I got greeted at the front door with this long greeting line, you know, with smiles,

very welcoming.

I go out to the parking lot, people are laughing and joking.

I'm like, "I don't know what the hell they're doing here, but I could do this."

You know, and I've been part of that meeting for the last 19 years, and that became my

home group, Pacific Room became my home group.

I got a sponsor over on that wall, you know, and I didn't know it at the time, but he

only had like two months to ride.

But what he did have was 15 years in and out of AA, and so he walked me through the book

as his design.

But what he also did is he shared his mistakes with me, you know, and he helped me build

a solid foundation.

I stayed in that program for a year, not because I wanted to, because at six months, I was

well.

I was ready to go and start going to work, put my life back together, and he's like,

"David, why don't you finish what you started?

Have you ever finished what you started?"

You know, and that hit home.

He'd ask those questions again that I didn't have answers for.

I couldn't deny what he was saying.

And Mark and I walked this path.

He taught me how to be a service dentist, you know.

We had some old-timers in our group that got sick, and he had me, by the minute I got a

truck, he had me go picking them up, bringing them to meetings.

And those old-timers saved my life, because they not only shared the blessing to alcoholics

anonymous, but they also shared, you know, the mistakes that they made in hopes that

I wouldn't cause more damage.

Just my friend Gary used to tell me, "You're going to make the same mistakes."

But hopefully, if I can give you a heads up, you won't, you know, won't have to make

as many events as I did.

And being a service, it saved my butt, you know, in more ways than one.

I got involved with the SoCal convention.

I went to my first SoCal in 2007, and I made the mistake of telling my sponsor how much

I enjoyed it, and he's totally made this investment.

Well, in January, they have planning meetings the second Sunday of every month, why don't

you go there and see how they put a convention together.

And I've been doing that since then.

In 2023, they voted me as chairman, if you want to call it that.

Basically, I guess it was my turn.

They nominated me, and then they closed nominations.

It didn't sound like much of a, didn't sound like I had much of a choice, but I love that

because it really opened up my fellowship beyond my whole group.

I mean, I go on to the Pacific group, which is a huge group, but I can go anywhere and

feel the part of like, you know, I was looking for this place.

Just before I got to the driveway, I see one of the guys in the suit and another guy standing

there, so I said, "Okay, here's where I'm going."

You know, it's during COVID.

I couldn't stay in the Zoom meeting, so I, you know, I was, I go to the beach every morning

and watch the sun come up because I live in Santa Monica, number one.

Oh, but that's where I talk to God every morning.

You know, I share my plan with God, and I say, "Okay, what do you got?"

You know, but, you know, my life is, well, my point as far as the convention goes, in

2023, I was chairman of SoCal Convention.

If you don't think God has a sense of humor.

The real funny thing about that is on the property where we had the convention at, which

was city of industry, was, oh, probably a block, block and a half more I grew up on.

It was on that property when I was 12 years old when I picked my first drink, and 55 years

later, I'm leading a meeting with 2,000 people, and it was all synonymous.

Yeah, I mean, it's like going full circle, but it was, you know, for me, it was really

amazing to wake up in the morning, I'm looking out at the balcony on the 11th floor, and

I'm looking at my junior high school where I used to drink beer at lunchtime when I was

in seventh grade, you know, and now I'm sitting up there leading an AA convention.

And it's just by showing up, I'm nothing special, you know.

My first sponsor of mine died at four and a half years, he took another drink, you know,

and within a year, he was dead.

And when he got me, when I got him as a sponsor, he gave me his phone number.

He gave me this gentleman named David, David Alman, and so on, and he gave me this guy

named Tom B, his phone number.

I'm like, okay, I've got yours.

Well, who are these two guys?

He said, that's my sponsor, that's his sponsor.

Anything happens to me, you go to him.

Anything happens to him, you go to him.

Tom B is my sponsor now, because two years ago, my sponsor of 14 years, he gave it out

and he passed away from health complications.

But what that man did for me, not only, not from what he said, but through his actions,

Tom would have lived, you know, in gratitude every day, no matter what's going on.

My father got sick and I went to the hospital and go see him, you know, he's laying in this

bed and it didn't look like my father.

He was old, he was emancipated, and I got scared.

That was probably the closest I've ever had to taking a drink.

And I went outside and called my sponsor up now, and of course he answered the phone and

he went on to share with me almost the exact same thing that happened with his father.

And what he told me was, he said, David, there's nothing you can do for him.

He says, your job is to make your family feel better, but also the most important thing

is to let your father know that you're going to be okay if he leaves, you know, to give

him the peace of mind to be able to leave this earth without worrying about you.

Because what I didn't understand when I got, when I was out there drinking is the harm

I did to my family.

My family didn't know where I was at 99% of the damn time.

And when I did show up, I had a bunch, I was either in jail, going to jail, broke, you

know, I needed something.

And when my life was going good, there was nowhere, I was nowhere to be found, you know?

And that's, that's the selfish and self-segregation that I didn't think I had, you know, but I

did and Alcoholics Anonymous has helped me to make all that right.

You know, my little brother got married in Kansas, I think I was about six years sober.

My niece came up to me and she had a couple glasses of wine and she looked at me and she

gave me a hug.

She said, Uncle David, I used to hate you.

I'm like, what, what did I ever do to you?

She said, David, growing up, my mom used to cry herself to sleep every night not knowing

where you were at.

My sister and I were very close and I didn't, you know, I didn't know I affected her up

bringing to that extent, you know, this woman don't drink because of what she saw, you know,

myself and her mother.

You know, a couple of years ago, my sister got sick.

She had cancer, she beat it.

And, and then it came back.

And when I got the news, I jumped on a plane.

I actually bought two plane tickets, called my niece up and we flew to Kansas and she

was in hospice for a while.

Then she got better, you know, cancer had spread everywhere and she didn't want any

more treatment.

And so my niece, I asked my niece, I said, what do you want to do?

And she said, I want to bring her home.

But I said, okay, let's go.

Where are we going to put her?

I'm like in my apartment.

I said, I got a two bedroom apartment.

My sister spent her last two months in my house.

The first month was alright because we used to be able to go to the beach and be conscious

most of the time.

But the second month, you know, she basically figured the way.

But the day she died, I get up that morning just before I got to the beach, I go in the

bedroom and I brush her hair and ask her how she was doing.

And her last words to me was, David, thank you.

I'm at peace.

You know, and that's, that's, that's all synonymous.

I couldn't have done that without what I was taught this year.

So if you're new, please stay around.

You've got to get a life in front of you.

Thank you.