“At the end of my drinking,” Don Gold begins, “the bottom I hit was both terrifying and dramatic. The accumulated wreckage of twenty-seven years of alcoholic drinking and all the “isms” that come with it looked insurmountable and hopeless. I had been hospitalized, detoxed, and placed in a treatment program that had brought me to our program. While AA made no demands on me, the treatment facility did, telling me I had to get a sponsor.
“Being an alcoholic,” Don Continues, “the first thing I did was complicate the situation. My sponsor would have to be perfect in every way. After a long period of frustrated searching, I related my dilemma to an AA acquaintance. He suggested a men’s ‘deer camp’ AA group that had been meeting continuously for over thirty years. They always started that meeting the same way. The chairman said, “At this meeting, we stress sponsorship. Is there anyone who doesn’t have a sponsor and would like to get one?’
“I jumped up out of my chair in front of this room full of men and said, “Yes, I’d like to interview several of you about being my sponsor after the meeting.” The room erupted in laughter as I stood there feeling foolish. But when the noise subsided, the chairman said to me in the most gentle way, “Well, we don’t have to make it that complicated. How about if I just appoint you a sponsor?
“Embarrassed and perplexed, I told him that would be okay. Looking around the room, the chairman settled on an old man sitting off to one side. ‘Charlie,’ he said, ‘will you sponsor this man?’”
“The look Charlie gave me spoke volumes. He started to shake his head and wave me off, but suddenly he said, “Oh alright. See me after the meeting.” (Later, I would learn that this is a traditional charade of these old-timers, and in time I would take to doing it myself.)
Willing to go to any lengths
“After the meeting, Charlie looked me in the eye and asked, ‘Are you willing to go to any lengths to get this program?’ Unsure of what he intended by this, I asked what he meant. ‘It means,’ he answered, ‘are you willing to do whatever I ask you, with the understanding that I did it myself?’
“Well, if he’d done it, I could too, so I agreed to do whatever he said.”
Don and I grew up together in AA, and I think we have about the same length of sobriety (over 35 years). AA, which was founded in Akron Ohio 80 years ago, rapidly spread to other communities and Little Rock was one of the older ones so we were blessed with sponsors of significant character and wisdom.
“Charlie was an old-timer,” Don continues, “seventeen years sober when we began working the program together. He sponsored me the way he’d been sponsored. Shortly after we began, he asked if I’d be willing to garden with him. I certainly wasn’t enthusiastic, but I had said I’d go to any lengths, so I agreed.
“And so, this sober old man and I began a vegetable garden. Charlie liked to tell his friends that we were ‘farming’ together. He showed me everything about how you plan, build, prepare, and plant a garden. We cleared and dug and tilled and raked. It was hard work, but we did it at Charlie’s pace, and it felt good. I got my hands dirty.
“As we began to put in rows of plants, Charlie got down on his knees in our newly tilled earth and indicated for me to follow him. There, on my knees in the dirt next to this gentle old man, he looked at me with a wry smile and said, ‘As long as we’re down here, let’s say the Serenity Prayer.’ We said it together, and that was the first time I’d ever prayed on my knees.
“Vegetable gardens need a lot of daily care. Charlie said it was necessary to pull weeds and water the plants early each morning, and at days end when they had stood up to the blistering sun, another watering for the night’s rest and recovery.
“So I showed up at our garden every morning just after sunup, and Charlie would already be there waiting for me. As we worked together in the cool morning air, I’d ramble on and on about my expectations for the coming day while he listened patiently.
Charlies marching orders
“When I finally wound down, Charlie would allow me to choose only one, or at most two actions for that day, and disregard the rest. These were my “marching orders,” and I would return to the garden at sundown to describe how all of it had gone. Occasionally, he’d make a comment, but mostly he let me come to my own realizations as he gently steered the course.
“For days and months we did this together, as I slowly came into the sunlight of the spirit and the AA design for living. From our vegetable garden, we launched into the Twelve Steps.
“Seven years passed this way, and one morning as I answered the phones at our Central Office the way Charlie had taught me; he called and asked me to come see him. It was two days before Thanksgiving when he looked at me and said, ‘Don, I’ve got cancer, and it’s terminal.’
“For six months as Charlie grew weaker, he faced each day as a gift with a grateful attitude. He never spoke of himself, only of the program and the newcomer. Finally one Saturday, he asked me to meet him in his garden. He wanted me to move a few plants around for him.
“The next day was Sunday, and they took him to the hospital in the afternoon. I got to see him Monday morning, and he was almost gone, but he said my name and he held my hand. Later that morning, my sponsor passed away.
“I’ll always know that Charlie called me back to the garden one last time to make sure I’d remember the lessons we learned there together and to pass them on to others. And to remind me that this sober life of ours is a miraculous gift, to be lived to the fullest one day at a time. And when it’s over, to go with quiet dignity, grateful to have trudged the road of happy destiny.
“From the very beginning, Charlie showed me many different ways to look at things. Included were new or long-forgotten old perspectives on how to live that I’d ignored, forgotten, or refused throughout the chaos that had been my life.
“One of the first, and ultimately one of the most important of these perspectives, was this…’YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO MAKE IT ALONE ANYMORE.’”
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