My neighbor, a former bad drunk, claimed that he had a much harder time kicking nicotine. My last cig was in early '07 but i can't claim I quit. I awoke from an unknown number of days of delirium and discovered my pack-and-a half daily habit had vanished. Had the draconian antismoking regs I hated not been in effect, I wouldn't have stood a chance of not starting again. I never did.
Congratulations, Leigh, on both huge achievements. I feel like a fraud saying I quit smoking since I was too out of it to suffer withdrawal symptoms. That gift is one I don't expect to receive twice, although as you probably know Johns Hopkins and others have had some success using psychedelic assists to break some addictions. I associate that and my unintentional withdrawal during delirium.
I love the stories we hear in meetings. Thanks for another great one!
Just passed the thirty-four year mark myself. At the risk of boring non-AA people, it always bothers me when we are instructed, either verbally or by a sign on the wall, to keep our discussions "limited to our problems with alcohol." Alcohol wasn't the problem, it was the solution! Until it wasn't.
Seriously, Dr. Bob mentioned his use of sedatives in his story in the Big Book. Would these self-appointed purists support editing that out of the book?
You, Knox? Glenn never joined, or listened to me that he would get diabetes if he kept drinking. But the day he thought he had symptoms of diabetes, called Kaiser, got diagnosed, he stopped drinking. That was all he needed. He did go to AA. when he felt he was having problems with oxycodone and went to see a Kaiser drug doctor, where he found out self referring was very, very rare. So he went to AA for two months and was done. But even now Kaiser complains because he's still on methadone, although he just went in for a test and,...nothing. But he's still in a lot of pain. He walked away from cigarettes and dope before we were married. He's just one of those people who says to himself, "gee, I don't feel like that anymore" and he's done. Who knew, in high school?
Novelist/Village Voice journo Joe Flaherty wrote a book on manag¿ng the Mailer-Breslin NYC mayoral run. On the cover of the hardcover first edition is a photo of the candidates. Between them, right at their shoulders are the reporters. Closest, Tannen's Reporter's Notebook at the ready, is Lucian, who hadn't noticed before I pointed it out to him. I think he still had a year left at West Point.
My late husband was a friend of Bill’s and worked at the jail to bring the AA program to the inmates. AA not only saved his life but our marriage as well. He worked his program up until 4 days before his death. It worked because he worked it.
For many years, I lived at Bleecker at Charles Street. Remember Corner Bistro and Lion’s Head and Stonewall and Marie’s Crisis and The Riviera, John’s Pizza
The printer for our high school newspaper, Cocci Press was on Barrow Street. They also printed the Socialist Worker.
On the night of the East Coast blackout in 1967, l nearly got stuck in the elevator were it not for kindly a printer who walked me down the pitch black, spiral staircase into the darkening street.
No train service, l spent the night at the NYU student union, and later, unharmed on a couch in an apartment. The kindness of strangers was on display, bright as daylight.
[After reflecting more on the Shortstop-Roadhouse transformation I edited this materially. —df ] As the Buffalo Roadhouse, it looked very different from its former incarnation, the cramped, uninviting Shortstop. Detroit Tigers slugger Hank Greenberg lived his early years in a rowhouse just east of the Shortstop but his position was at first base. Under all names the entrance, 87 Seventh Avenue South, was on the east side of the Holland Tunnel approach and it turned its back on Greenwich House's entrance at 27 Barrow Street. A barren plaza separated the Shortstop from a tiny unrerelated office at the apex of the triangular lot. It all might once have been the third gas station before the tunnel. To become the Buffalo Roadhouse, the space between the structures was finished and glass walls let you people-watch the Seventh Avenue South parade from navy canvas Sausalitoish captains' chairs. A delightful hangout, it was very local, just not a venerable Village boys' club where women *might* be tolerated. I did a leisurely interview there once with Irene Fornés, who lived a block east. Never knew what went wrong (turned down mob benefits?), but the space ended up further enlarged and a garish tourist trap under other names. BR was so cherished the Tex-Mex joint on the SE Bleecker corner named an annex the Buffalo Roadhouse in tribute, but it didn't last either. Totally lacked the Roadhouse's sprawling afternoon sunshine charm.
I'd rather have Beansie running the country, just saying.
My cousin was able to have 23+ years of sobriety because of AA.
He died from lung cancer and was still following the plan.
My neighbor, a former bad drunk, claimed that he had a much harder time kicking nicotine. My last cig was in early '07 but i can't claim I quit. I awoke from an unknown number of days of delirium and discovered my pack-and-a half daily habit had vanished. Had the draconian antismoking regs I hated not been in effect, I wouldn't have stood a chance of not starting again. I never did.
I quit smoking after 3 years sober...worked like a charm...
Congratulations, Leigh, on both huge achievements. I feel like a fraud saying I quit smoking since I was too out of it to suffer withdrawal symptoms. That gift is one I don't expect to receive twice, although as you probably know Johns Hopkins and others have had some success using psychedelic assists to break some addictions. I associate that and my unintentional withdrawal during delirium.
Lucian, that’s a screamer! Thanks for sharing. “the rest of the story!“
Happy New Year to you and Tracy. Let’s keep fighting to make sure the bastards don’t get us down!
I love the stories we hear in meetings. Thanks for another great one!
Just passed the thirty-four year mark myself. At the risk of boring non-AA people, it always bothers me when we are instructed, either verbally or by a sign on the wall, to keep our discussions "limited to our problems with alcohol." Alcohol wasn't the problem, it was the solution! Until it wasn't.
Seriously, Dr. Bob mentioned his use of sedatives in his story in the Big Book. Would these self-appointed purists support editing that out of the book?
You, Knox? Glenn never joined, or listened to me that he would get diabetes if he kept drinking. But the day he thought he had symptoms of diabetes, called Kaiser, got diagnosed, he stopped drinking. That was all he needed. He did go to AA. when he felt he was having problems with oxycodone and went to see a Kaiser drug doctor, where he found out self referring was very, very rare. So he went to AA for two months and was done. But even now Kaiser complains because he's still on methadone, although he just went in for a test and,...nothing. But he's still in a lot of pain. He walked away from cigarettes and dope before we were married. He's just one of those people who says to himself, "gee, I don't feel like that anymore" and he's done. Who knew, in high school?
Ellen, I'm happy Glenn is still with us! You too. :)
That’s an excellent story, and a tribute to a fellowship that truly changes lives!
Great storytelling, Lucian!
Forty years sober this coming Feburary 9th. Didn't go to AA, just knew if I didn't quit I probaly wouldn't make it to now. Happy New Year!
40
YOU are a regular Jimmy Breslin!
Novelist/Village Voice journo Joe Flaherty wrote a book on manag¿ng the Mailer-Breslin NYC mayoral run. On the cover of the hardcover first edition is a photo of the candidates. Between them, right at their shoulders are the reporters. Closest, Tannen's Reporter's Notebook at the ready, is Lucian, who hadn't noticed before I pointed it out to him. I think he still had a year left at West Point.
WOW! Cool!
Mailer/Breslin L/R. The light suit immediately behind Breslin is LKT. I don't recognize anyone else—Lucian?
https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fpictures.abebooks.com%2Finventory%2F31252497447.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=ddaa8b4a4d7dbfbae4db70ed46d1844033fd7c3d6d29d6b28a8f220274b2cd98&ipo=images
i tell the people in my meetings that my surrender to sobriety was close to instantaneous. the cops had guns on me.
Romans 13:4-5
I love this writing. Is it a new novel in the works?
Ha this would work I'm many crime novels and even in Batman
My late husband was a friend of Bill’s and worked at the jail to bring the AA program to the inmates. AA not only saved his life but our marriage as well. He worked his program up until 4 days before his death. It worked because he worked it.
For many years, I lived at Bleecker at Charles Street. Remember Corner Bistro and Lion’s Head and Stonewall and Marie’s Crisis and The Riviera, John’s Pizza
Where was the Roadhouse?
7th and Barrow.
The printer for our high school newspaper, Cocci Press was on Barrow Street. They also printed the Socialist Worker.
On the night of the East Coast blackout in 1967, l nearly got stuck in the elevator were it not for kindly a printer who walked me down the pitch black, spiral staircase into the darkening street.
No train service, l spent the night at the NYU student union, and later, unharmed on a couch in an apartment. The kindness of strangers was on display, bright as daylight.
That's Manhattan in any emergency.
[After reflecting more on the Shortstop-Roadhouse transformation I edited this materially. —df ] As the Buffalo Roadhouse, it looked very different from its former incarnation, the cramped, uninviting Shortstop. Detroit Tigers slugger Hank Greenberg lived his early years in a rowhouse just east of the Shortstop but his position was at first base. Under all names the entrance, 87 Seventh Avenue South, was on the east side of the Holland Tunnel approach and it turned its back on Greenwich House's entrance at 27 Barrow Street. A barren plaza separated the Shortstop from a tiny unrerelated office at the apex of the triangular lot. It all might once have been the third gas station before the tunnel. To become the Buffalo Roadhouse, the space between the structures was finished and glass walls let you people-watch the Seventh Avenue South parade from navy canvas Sausalitoish captains' chairs. A delightful hangout, it was very local, just not a venerable Village boys' club where women *might* be tolerated. I did a leisurely interview there once with Irene Fornés, who lived a block east. Never knew what went wrong (turned down mob benefits?), but the space ended up further enlarged and a garish tourist trap under other names. BR was so cherished the Tex-Mex joint on the SE Bleecker corner named an annex the Buffalo Roadhouse in tribute, but it didn't last either. Totally lacked the Roadhouse's sprawling afternoon sunshine charm.
🤣 Thanks!
That is a terrific Christmas Story.
Sounds like a scene from "The Deuce" or "Boardwalk Empire."