I had my last drink on Thanksgiving Day, 1973. I went to my first meeting that night, and picked up my white plastic poker chip with some dimes taped to it to make call from my new list of friends. There was a death in the family that night. A drunk of 17 years stumbled into the 2720 Club in Lakeland, Florida, and was never seen again. The compulsion to drink had been removed. With two small children in tow, who had been living in a flop apartment in a condemned dope house, I began my journey back to a life that I would never have dreamed possible.
After leaving a 10 year career in the US Navy, I got sober after coming home from Viet Nam. What happened in the last 43 years is nothing short of miraculous. My garbage can turned into a treasure chest. From the very first day in recovery, I have found so many ways to be useful to others, and to make a difference in the lives of my family and community, the thought of having another drink of alcohol hasn’t entered my mind. I never throw anyone away, as I had been, and the result is that I get to live this amazing life surrounded by miracles every day.