I think a lot about an friend from the Old City who never was able to get a handle on what we're trying to do in The Program. This guy was about my age and we came in at about the same time. He was a very successful man in the business world, drinking himself out of impressive job after impressive job, always landing on his feet again with another great opportunity. Eventually, he became unemployable in his field and ended up staying with friends. At the time I thought this was probably a good thing for him because once he had money and a nice office and a cool car he became 50 feet tall and bulletproof and nobody could tell him otherwise. I thought maybe he had taken the elevator down far enough and would concentrate on his recovery.
Then, in what turned out to be a cruel twist of fate he inherited a nice chunk of money, bought a house and another car, and was running and gunning again in no time. He was an unfortunate example of how dangerous it can be for me to put the seductive things of this world in front of my recovery. I saw how some pain and deprivation was a great motivator in getting me in the front door and keeping me in my seat. I began to understand the meaning of the short saying: "Be careful what you pray for, you might get it." When I was drinking I wasn't praying for peace of mind and a positive outlook -- I was praying for the new Porsche. I wouldn't have gotten 10 miles in that car before wrapping it around a telephone pole.
Today I see people enter The Rooms and stay sober after they have fallen just about as far as it's possible to fall. They see that there's nowhere else to go and they get to work. I also see some folks blessed with a lot of privilege insulate themselves from the troubles that alcohol causes. This can be a bad thing; a very bad thing. Money can buy lawyers and good booze and nice house to drink it in, with the lights low and the blinds drawn.
SuperK and I always said that our friend would end up having a hell of great lead some day or the alcohol and drugs would kill him. Although we said this for years it still stopped me in my tracks to receive a text message this morning: "Your friend died today, apparently relapsed, holed up in a hotel in a faraway state. May he rest in peace." A few months back he had found a woman with some money and had tried another geographic cure. I did a few of those myself in my day but wherever I went there I was. If I could have left myself at home maybe the move would have helped a little more. I would look in the mirror and think: "You again?"
He was found in bathtub full of blood and water, having lain there for 24 hours, suffering from some kind of head wound. The local sheriff is not releasing his body pending an investigation. He's not sure if my friend fell on his own and was too drunk to do anything about it or whether a drug dealer came to collect on a debt and things got out of hand or maybe some other unfortunate that he was drinking with got angry and let him have it. It's not going to show up in any autopsy as "alcoholism." It's also not going to be an open casket funeral.
He has children and an ex-wife and a long, long string of sponsors. I believe that each of us can carry the message but not the drunk. I believe we can grieve for our friends but we can't get them sober. I quit chasing this guy long ago. It wasn't helping me and it sure wasn't helping him.
Ya gotta want it.
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