I have read Charles's story three times now, this morning I realized that I was hearing my own story, In May my father grew suddenly ill and went into a conscious coma, it was the same scene but flipped around, I was the daughter standing there trying to comfort him all the while buzzing my head off, thinking they would numb my emotions to "keep it together" for my step mother, sister and him. I didn't think I was all that messed up; I thought I was functioning like a strong daughter and sister. I thought if I didn't take those pills that the emotions would come screaming out like a crazed baboon and everything would fall apart. I remember most of it but wish I had felt more. I remember helping plan the funeral, taking control of everything, my sister and step mom had no clue what to do, I had just helped my mother bury my grandmother in November of 2006 and then helped bury my best friend 7 months earlier, I knew what to do and I did it. I was so busy with all the arrangements and making sure everything was in its place and popping pain pills that I didn't even realize that my father lay in the casket just a few feet from me. I looked at him and it all seemed like an outer body experience, like I was watching someone who I thought was me standing there trying to force out the tears so the people at the funeral didn’t think I was a heartless POS. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t lose control, I HAD to keep it together, they needed me to be strong. It sounds so ridiculous now. I am going through the “what if’s” the “why’s”? I feel so much guilt.
Charles, your story has helped me find GOD again. I read your story Friday morning and felt this overwhelming urge to talk to him for the first time in MANY years. To really tell him I was sorry for leaving him behind, to ask him to forgive me and to let him take over, I had the wheel held so tight my knuckles were sore and I was falling asleep at the wheel. Here GOD it’s your turn to drive I seem to be all over the road and I think I need to rest.
I just want to say thank you. Thank You Wekiva Springs Center for Recovery in Jacksonville Florida and thank GOD that I woke up.
Once becoming physically sober, 7-27-1986, my journey has been about returning to a society I had once retreated from. To become resposible in helping other find a fruitful existance in Life, I became a writer, believing the written word is the most effective tool we have in recovery. I had just purchased a small house on Merritt Island, Florida - when terrorist struck our land on 9-11-01. Now it is our society that needs to recover, and for that, I am responsible too!
America’s Resolve, By George E. Buttner
Heartwood Creations
On September 11, 2001, Arab terrorist diabolically attacked America, all but one of these terrorist were from Saudi Arabia. Their leader, Osama Bin Laden, also from Saudi Arabia is after seven years, still at large.
As The World Trade Center Twin Towers fell to the ground on that fateful day, three thousand lives were vaporized in the dust of crumpled steel and broken glass. Not even a bone fragment can be found of these innocent souls, but their memory remains in the very air we breathe.
As we begin to honor the solemn ground they collapsed into, let us also remember our compatriots at the Pentagon and those who died courageously on that fateful day on the plane in Pennsylvania. “Let’s Roll” has become a battle cry to Summons Our Heroes !
It is obvious we cannot contain the flood of wrongdoing that befalls innocent people in our towns and cities around this grand nation, nor can we avoid the hard realities of living in America on such a day. However, we can now say this problem exists, if only for the simple reason we trained our attackers to fly airplanes where never lark nor eagle flew. In teaching other nations to be free, we must also consider other foreign countries that cannot or will not grasp our Democratic Society. We kid ourselves into thinking it is so.
Old Glory forever waves because our banner is tightly woven for the common good of the people. New Yorkers are cut from the same cloth of red, white and blue, and never has New York’s star in that banner shown brighter. Still fresh in our minds, America once more weeps for her lost children who are no more, their pictures still plastered in the halls of our memories, but we stay and rebuild because the rewards of living in such a beautiful place are far greater than the pain and chaotic nature that at times befalls our land and its people.
We all share in this great loss. What terrorist do not understand they try to destroy, yet when our flag was finally lifted from the many coffins, they now understand our history - for such attacks only brings us closer together and makes us stronger. “Give me liberty or give me Death” is written in our blood, and Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, is our common bond. New York belongs to America, it is the gateway to Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Adolescent Yearning To Breath Free, even the tempest taunt, such as myself, and now it belongs to the world. New York will rise up and become a greater city for its people are like no other people in the world.
Each year on 9-11 let the trumpet sound, let freedom ring once more, and let us fly as eagles once again. Let those who try to bring down our freedom from within or from without now understand our very first motto; that cowardly sneak attacks against our nation will not be tolerated. Let them know exactly what that title and first motto means. The house I live in, where my people live and died… The United States of America - Don’t tread on me!
George E. Buttner, --A Patriot…
Heartwood Creations
just for today , is one thing that keeps me freeded from stress related to my recovery. meaning living in the past or posting up in the futuer.this small saying keeps me centered and focused on the NOW. what about that.
Today I was asked to become a member of the Miami Beach Chamber of Commerence. Last week I was asked to be on the board of a South Florida Coalition for Drug Free Communities.
On the board.
I am already a member of the Miami Beach Coalition for a Drug Free Community,
And PAPDA (Parents Against Prescription Drug Abuse).
Though I was not sure if I qualified as a parent.
My daughter Joy died 23 years ago.
I actually paused when it was asked at my church last Father’s Day, ’How many fathers are there here today?’
Am I? I thought.
A father?
I know I was, but when you lose a child are you still a parent?
I didn’t know, until I visited Joy’s grave again.
There,
At that moment,
I knew I was with my little girl.
And I would always be her daddy.
I am a father.
I go off on tangents a lot, which is probably why my stories are so long.
I started writing this because at my ‘Sober at 6’ home group, a friend of mine named Jimmy G spoke;
About Thomas Edison, the Wright brothers and the space shuttle
Thomas Edison had tried over 7,500 times to make a light source with a newly discovered thing called electricity..
A reporter asked him one day, “Why don’t you give up? You’ve failed over 7,500 times to make it work. It doesn’t.”
Edison replied, “That’s how little you know about science, and obviously even less about life. I didn’t fail 7,500 times;
I documented 7,500 ways it doesn’t work. That just brings me closer to finding the way it will.”
Jimmy G. spoke about Gen. Langley, who failed hugely,
And publicly,
Trying to make a machine that could fly.
But two brothers in NC didn’t hear about that, or didn’t listen;
They invented a machine that flew.
Think about that.
Think bout trying to explain something to someone who has no reference to relate to what you are saying.
It’d be like trying to explain the color red to a person who was born blind.
I told you that I was asked to be a member of the Miami Beach Chamber of Commerce & on the board of a South Florida Coalition for a Drug Free Community and the other groups I am a member of, because some of you reading this;
CEO’s, counselors, CAP’s, PhD’s, etc..
Will think being a member of these groups is not a big deal,
Rather a pre requisite.
But for me,
For us;
Alcoholic or addicts still ‘In the pink cloud’
Still in wonder of the 4th dimension of recovery,
Of our growing conscious contact with a ‘Higher Power’;
With God.
Or those who are still on the outside,
Looking through the glass at people in recovery.
Wanting in, but not believing it is possible.
It is a big deal.
Incomprehensible.
If you told me two years ago that I would be asked to be on the board of a drug free community coalition,
And the editor of a recovery magazine,
If you told me I would interview the Deputy Director of the White House’s National Drug Control Policy 2 months ago for issue 4,
And a Congressman today for issue 6,
I would not have comprehended what you were talking about.
Would not believe something like that was possible.
Could not even imagine it as a fantasy.
After 10 ½ years in prison,
Then 10 ½ years running a strip club in active addiction.
Overactive addiction;
Hospitalized 3 times for complications from alcohol;
Starting my ‘career’ with Tequila, ending it with light beer;
(Easier on the stomach, but takes more to get the job done),
Being Baker Acted & locked up for observation in a mental ward for 72 hours;
After being arrested for standing in the rain with a knife,
Screaming at a God I didn’t believe in.
Running around the ghettos of Miami in the middle of the night trying to score,
Staring at myself in the mirror with lips blistered from not letting the crack pipe cool off.
Blood trickling down my arm where I didn’t bother wiping it after shooting up,
And vomit sprinkling the toilet from my last meal:
A six pack or two (depending on how many I could hold down)
Losing my wife, job, and eventually my house,
Selling it to go into treatment.
To tell me where I would be today -
Is why I tell you where I am today:
So that the new comer (Yeah, that’s you bro, & me too.) reading this who cannot comprehend the idea, may believe a bit.
I can’t understand how you get 100’s of channels on a TV by pushing a button,
I just see that it works if you do it.
Dude, it is so possible,
If you just do it.
I have a quote on my magazine’s website,
And I also put it in every magazine;
Until one is committed there is always hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation there is one elementary Truth, the ignorance of which, kills countless ideas and splendid plans. That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would otherwise not have occurred. A whole stream of events issue from the decision raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
Johann Wolfgang Goethe
Jimmy G also talked about the Space Shuttle, and how it takes 90% of it’s fuel to get 10% on it’s way.
Until it breaks the chains of gravity.
Then it takes just little spurts of fuel to rocket it along to the farthest reaches of space,
Because there is nothing holding it back.
Do the steps;
Thoroughly and honestly.
And you will break the chains of addiction and be rocketed into a whole new dimension;
Of belief.
In life.
In the future.
In yourself.
There will be nothing to hold you back.
Believe it.
It happened to me.
peace
I bet 12 steps
By Charlie G
I was sitting at home playing in a poker tournament on line.
I'm pretty good.
I supported myself playing tournaments at the Hard Rock when I was near the end of my final run.
I had a good poker face; You could never tell when I had something.
You could never tell if I was awake, to be honest with you.
I still play once a week or so for extra money.
Now though, I usually play single table tournaments, instead of multi table. Iess money, but a lot quicker.
The last multi table tournament I was in had 19 tables. It started at 6:30 pm. At 3:45 am there were still 3 of us left.
10 hours. We were close in chips, so we put 1st, 2nd, & 3rd place money together and split it.
In my last 6 single table tournaments I've finished in the money 4 times.
As I said, I'm pretty good.
The reason for writing about this is because of what happened to me.
A lesson in priorities, it was.
I was playing the free tournament on line, getting in a little practice till 11:00 am, when I was going to drive to the Hard Rock and get into a multi table starting at noon.
About 10 am I get a call from a friend in AA.
"Charlie, do you want to do some twelve stepping?" He asked.
Twelve stepping is helping a fellow alcoholic or addict in trouble.
I had never done one before.
A guy was kicking heroin and at Jackson Hospital's Crisis Center, trying to get into their detox.
The problem was he didn't have ID showing a Miami residence
"Can you take him to the driver's license bureau to get a state ID"? My friend asked.
I paused, then agreed. 'I can still make the 6 pm tournament.' I thought to myself
When I got there 'John' is not feeling good,
And not making friends.
"He can not come in without an ID showing miami residence." I was told.
I had talked with him outside before going in to try for myself to get him in.
"Go to Camillus House. The homeless center will give him a ID." A doctor told us.
Camillus House gives them out 2x a week.
Today was not one of those days.
He had ID from Boyton Beach, a city in West Palm Beach. He used to own a house there.
A Florida ID.
"Not good enough. It has to have a Miami address." the doctor smiled.
Nope, 'John' had not made any friends here.
The line starts before dawn at a driver license office in Miami.
I went outside and explained to 'John'.
And he didn't have any money.
I told him I didn't know if we'd get in this late, and I thought he had to have some form of proof he lived in Miami,
To get proof he lived in Miami.
Yeah, I scratched my head at that one, too.
He would need a cable or electric bill.
He didn't have one on him, being homeless and all.
"My brother is a doctor. He'll pay for me to get a place to sleep tonight. He just won't send it to me." He said.
"Have him Western Union it to me and we'll get you a place." I told him
"Well, he's in surgery, you'll have to front the money. But he'll send it right after he finishes."
"That ain't going to happen," I said, looking at him. "Nothing personal, I don't know you.
But I do KNOW you. I was you. Sorry."
I'd been with this guy over two hours now.
"I have to get into detox! If I tell them I'm going to kill myself, will they have to let me in then?" He asked.
I told him we could get a cop to bring him in.
In Miami, a cop can get you into a homeless shelter if it's after curfew, and into detox, if he feels like it.
They will Baker Act you or Myers (?) Act you.
One is your crazy, a threat to yourself or others, and need to be hospitalized.
The other is your intoxicated, and need to be hospitalized.
"O.K." He said. "Lets find a cop."
I was agreeable to this. It would get him inside the doors.
Wasn't even in my mind that this way we wouldn't have to stand in the DMV line for hours,
On the chance they would give him an ID without proof of residency.
And I would miss my 6:00 pm tournament.
Never entered my mind.
So we get in my car in search of a police officer.
One block away is a Wendys. As we are driving by, we both see 4-5 police cars in the lot.
Passing the window, we see them all sitting together, two tables pulled together.
"Forget it" 'John' says. "They won't do anything when they're together like that."
I look at my watch. A little pass 3:00 pm.
If you want to buy a ticket to a tournament, you have to be there by 5:00 pm. They sell out early.
The thought never entered my mind.
"I got this bro," I said as I pulled into the lot.
We parked and went inside.
I sat 'John' down in a seat within sight of the police officers, glanced at my watch, and went over to them.
I approached the groups of cops and said;
"Officers! I need to tell you something, and then ask you something."
In AA/NA we talk a lot about "Masks."
How we need to shed ours.
How everybody wears one.
The group of cops turned , in perfect harmony, and stared at me.
They looked like they had all gotten the same mask at a post Halloween sale.
Hard eyes. Stern lips. With tufts of aggression poking out like bad hair under a baseball cap.
"Ooookay." I thought to myself, then quickly formulated a plan.
I told them a blonde joke.
"Listen guys," I said. "This blonde lady was speeding in her car by the hospital and was pulled over by a blonde female cop."
Their hard eyes are looking a little... confused.
I keep smiling.
The blonde cop asks the blonde driver for her driver's license.
The blonde driver rummages through her purse, finally looking up at the blonde cop and crying, "I don't know what it looks like!"
"It's got your picture on it." The blonde cop replies sternly.
The blonde driver goes searching through her purse some more, finally finding her compact.
She opens it up, looks at herself in the mirror's reflection, the hands it to the blonde female cop. "Is this it?" She asks.
The blonde cops takes it, looks at it, and says,
"Now if you had just told me you were a police officer in the first place, I'd have let you go a lot sooner!"
I stand there and count, 1..2..3.., wondering if I run, how far could I get?
The cops start laughing.
Then one of the sgts., there were two there, asked what I needed.
I brought 'John' over , and explained the problem.
"He's done everything they asked. Jumped through every hoop." I told them.
"They won't let him in because he doesn't have ID, and he can't get ID because he has no address."
"Can one of you take him in under a Baker Act or Myers Act?" I asked.
:Sure." The Sgt. said, "Why not? Wait outside for a couple of minutes till I finish."
I thanked him.
'John' thanked him.
Then we went outside.
I wished 'John' luck and said good bye.
I drove away and was soon on I-95, heading north towards the casino.
I felt pretty good. I had helped my fellow addict, and look at that! I had time to go to the tournament.
Hadn't even thought about that.
Yep, I was feeling pretty good about myself.
Then the radio went off.
The airbag light came on.
The battery light came on.
The 'check engine' light came on.
I had changed the battery two months before and immediately thought I'd gotten a bad one.
But if it was that, the car just wouldn't start the next time I tried. Not this light show.
The car started bucking, just a little.
I pulled the owner's manual out of the glove box and call the place where I'd bought the car.
It was on the way, and I was near.
I got the service department and told the guy on the other end what was happening.
"Oh Boy!" He laughed, "That's your alternator." "Better get in here."
I got off I-95, and onto SR441. A lesser traveled road that runs parallel to I-95.
The Hyundai dealership was on 441 and 204th street, about 30 blocks away.
My car that never gave me trouble, was hiccupping and slowing.
"You can make it." I told her, "You can do it!"
She didn't.
As I approached a red light, I let her coast, hoping the light would change. Scared to stop.
Just as I rolled up, the cars in front of me drove off.
I smiled as I stepped lightly on the accelerator, never having had to stop.
Nothing happened.
My car slowed to a crawl and stopped at 183rd street and 441.
21 blocks from the Hyundai dealership.
I turned the key.
Nothing. No clicking, nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I got out, lifted the hood, and called the dealer.
I was told I had to call the 800 Hyundai number and they would send a tow truck.
I called the number, spoke with a nice lady, giving her all the pertinent information.
Including the fact that I was only 21 blocks away from the dealership.
She told me a tow truck would be there for me in one hour.
I called the dealer. No tow trucks. "Just wait."
I got back in my car, lit a cigarette, leaned back in my seat and thought, 'So much for the 6:00 tournament.
When I finished my cigarette, I got out of the car and leaned on the roof, looking at the traffic, looking at me.
I was parked in a turn lane at a main intersection.
As I casually looked around, my gaze came upon the building in the strip mall directly across from me.
It was the Department of Motor Vehicles.
The driver's license building.
I am not making this up.
I looked around again. Now seeing familiar buildings. I knew this place.
This is where I had gotten my license, and had planned to bring 'John.'
I could not believe it.
My car broke down directly, not on the same block, not just down the street, but directly across from the driver's license building.
I got back into my car and lit another cigarette.
For the next 45 minutes, until the tow truck came, I thought about priorities.
Looking at, then away from, that driver's license building.
Like a line judge in a tennis tournament.
Tournament.
Had I short changed this guy who needed my help because I didn't want to miss a tournament?
I spoke in length to God about that during those 45 minutes.
And about priorities.
The tow truck finally came. It was a flat bed.
The driver came over as I got out of my car.
He asked me for my keys as he lowered the bed of the truck.
"It won't start." I told him. "Your going to have to winch it up."
"Sometimes the battery has enough juice in it and will slowly charge the alternater," he said, as he got into my car.
It started.
He drove it up the bed of the tow truck and chained it down.
I got in the cab and didn't say anything the 21 blocks to the dealer.
When we got there he lowered the bed, drove my car off, shook my hand, and left.
I walked over to the service manager, signed the papers, and was told I could pick it up in the morning.
I stood there. How was I going to get home?
I called Judi, a friend of mine in AA.
I what happened and could she please come and give me a ride home?
She had an appointment, but of course she would help me. "We had to look out for each other, didn't we?"
SHE was twelve stepping ME!
I can now say that I was twelve stepped, while twelve stepping!
Unbelievable.
She wouldn't be able to bring me back in the morning, so I called another friend in AA.
Chris said he would have to get up a little earlier, but he would take me in the morning, before going to work.
Priorities.
I'm sure the car would have broke down anyway.
I'm sure the line would have been too long for us to get into the license department before closing.
And I'm sure they wouldn't give 'John' an ID without proof of residence.
I'm as sure as I am of pocket aces in a poker tournament.
But I wouldn't bet on it.
peace