In 1978 I got sober. I was a 21 year old female. AA had few women, and fewer members under 40. My AA group had a room where on most nights and afternoons all the old men played poker. It was a nickle and dime game. No one got hurt. Sometimes they would let the new guys win.
I was a Friday night player. It started out one night when I was restless and wanted to drink. Jack O. shoved $2.00 in my hand and said, "Why don't you play, it'll keep you out of trouble." So I became a Friday night regular.
There was easy conversation and lots of laughter. But mainly I was learning about life and redemption. My teachers came from all walks of lives. As we played they told me their stories. When the phone rang someone would fold his hand and take the call. When someone stumbled up the steps late at night, we were there.
Wade was one of the oldest (well into his 70's). He was painful to watch as he moved around the group straightening pictures and emptying ashtrays. He had been sober for 30 years. If he was around when I got a seat in the game he would push aside his cards and say, "If I want to play with a woman, I'll go home and play with my wife." As he started for the door the guys would laugh, and Norman would usually say something like " Don't ask us to choose" or "Call your wife she may not want to play." After about 6 months I joined the game one night. Wade raised his eyebrows, sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. The silence was broken when he growled "Deal the cards."
Jack O. was a prolific twelve stepper. He only had 2 years sober when I came in. He had been married and divorced from his wife Donna 4 times and married to 2 other women in between. Jack had a gift for reaching the new ones. After a while he took me with him. I can remember at least 5 times when we would bring someone back to Casa and sit with them all night. Jack would carefully measure out shots of whiskey. Medicinal whiskey timed to bring them off the booze without DT's. Jack ended up working for years at the Salvation Army and other jitter joints. He was magic. He could reach people that no one else could touch. He was tireless. He never gave up on anyone. Jack stayed sober and he stayed with Donna. I try to talk to Jack twice a week, and sometimes I help him with his computer.
Norman was in poor health, but he had a great attitude. He looked like Santa Claus without a beard. When he laughed his whole body shook. Norman had been in the Navy and he had a lot of tattoos. He and his much younger wife seemed like they were still on a honeymoon. She worked nights and would always call before she left work. He was always gentle and kind, but when he talked to Billie, even on the phone, he was transformed. He used to always say,"If I died tomorrow I'm still the luckiest man I know." or "Sometimes God smiles on the undeserving."
Smitty was a veteren of 2 wars. He had been shot down in Viet Nam and for the rest of his life his chest wound never healed. His wife had to apply fresh bandages twice a day. He had been sober for about 20 years when I came in. He and his wife, Rennie (who had about 19 years) were the spiritual center of the group. Rennie was tough talking, but Smitty had no sharp edges. He was smooth, and wise, and he told stories about early AA that made it come alive. He was a brilliant investor and they became millionaires in the stock market after he retired. Smitty told me that as you grew in sobriety you might not be as aware of the miracles. He said I shouldn't get discouraged because all it meant is that the miracles were happening closer together. "Fill up your bucket with AA," he would smile. "Sometimes if you feel guilty, you are," he would laugh. He had strong opinions about almost everything, but he was nonjudgemental about people.
Tommy was a wild man. He was short and wore thick glasses. When he came into the room he had to greet everyone individually. He and Jack were best friends and former drinking buddies. He didn't know how to be serious. Tommy insisted that he could never leave his wife because she shot her first husband. He never wanted to leave her anyway. She was a gracious woman, who often played straight man to Tommy's never ending practical jokes.He told about getting drunk and heading to Mexico, with a woman he'd picked up only to discover he/she was a transvestite. He left his new friend at the border and got sober the next day.
Dan B was an electrisian he had 8 years when I showed up. Dan stopped attending meetings early on. He still smoked dope from time to time (I discovered this later). He was an occasional player. He was a startling handsome man. He filled his life with women and toys (like boats and radio contolled cars and airplanes). He was energetic, almost kinetic. When I had a couple of years we dated for a few months. Dan was 42 and wanted to get married. He asked me to go to the Bahamas with him. I figured there would only be one bed there . As gently as possible I told Dan that I was only 23 and he was too old for me. He took a 19 year old on the trip and they were married within a month. They are still married. I saw Dan on his motorcyle last month, he pulled into the service station where I was filling up to say hello.
Harry B was a short guy. Rennie called him a "little bantam rooster." He was blonde and handsome and had gotten sober in Arizona. He had a great sense of humour, but he played poker to win. Harry was a personality. Harry made you feel like you were the only person in the room. He wore cowboy boots and drove a station wagon. One Saturday, Tall Paul called me and told me to come to the group. When I got there Harry was laying on the floor under the poker table. All the players were there trying to sober Harry up. When Harry got drunk after 6 years some of the guys he sponsered followed him out. None of them made it back. We all loved Harry, but we couldn't save him. He died in 1983.
Tall Paul was about 6'4" he was a complex and conflicted old man. Paul was in his mid 70's. He always brought me library books that were how to books on writing. He had written scripts for TV. He had several years sober. Tall Paul was a generous, but sad man. He was haunted by his own demons. Harry was his friend and sponser. Within 2 weeks after Harry got drunk Tall Paul relapsed. He started drinking on a Friday night. He died the following Tuesday.
Racecar Randy had white hair. Looking back I guess he was only about 52 or so. I know that Randy had 3 or 4 years more sobriety than I did. Anyway he was an Irishman. He was a member of another group, but he always stopped by to play poker We ended up in the same business. At least every 3 or 4 years he would track me down. We never lost touch. In 1996 I hired him for a project. He did an excellant job. I loved his warmth and his Irish Charm. He also had a temper. Three years ago, he was shot by his own son during a family dispute. The week before we had played together and he was troubled and talked to us about problems in his family.
I twelve stepped Artist Monty with Wayne P. in early 1982. Monty got sober and Wayne became his first sponser. Artist Monty is a bright and funny man. Like I did, he traveled with his work after sobriety. He lived for several years in Hawaii. Monty and I have shared memories. We both knew most of the oldtimers. Monty is retired now. He still does occasional design work. He rebuilt an old van and he takes roadtrips to Mexico, where he explores and paints. He lives in the suburbs and drives into town about once a month to play poker. I've noticed that he doesn't come as much since Racecar died.
In 2001, I moved back home. Full circle in my life, I returned to the poker game. The poker game has a few new faces. On a good night 6 chairs are filled. Sometimes no one plays. I try to go up on some Fridays. That's the only time they play now. I go when I think they need a 4th to make a game. No more waiting an hour for a seat. I played tonight. Jack is getting older and shaky. Harold gets frustrated because it takes Jack so long to bet. Geoff was there. Geoff has only been playing for 8 years(about the same amount of time he has sober) He remembers some of the oldtimers, and he played with Racecar. Links on a chain I suppose. Tonight the phone never rang.
There were others in the game. Names and faces and voices that I still hear. Most of them are gone now. In front of the new group there are a handful of birdhouses that Harold has mounted on a tree. There names are weathered, but readable. OD, Racecar, Earl, Donald Lee, each name carefully written in magic marker. The names of the old men who saved my life.
RETHREAD....
THE TRUE FACE OF COLO................
