Bill
Wilson Dinner
I hadn't had this new
job long, maybe five months, and to ask for a night off, especially
a Saturday night, was a no-no in the restaurant business. It was
November, 1969, and I was sober a year. I was still much on drinking
time which means dry but high. They called it the Bill Wilson
Dinner held in New York City every year around Veteran's Day.
I wanted to meet the man that I had heard so much about. Who was
he? What was he like? And the fact that the dinner was in New
York City started my juices flowing. I did get the night off and
my reservations were made to fly into New York. I remember telling
my daughter that this was to be the most exciting day of my life.
As usual, I packed way too much for a two-day trip, even hats
and boxes and fur pieces. Tom must have given me a ride to the
airport, dropping the Queen off. Remember I'm on drinking time
which means I'm filled with a lot of self-importance and urgency
of my mission, not to mention grandiosity. At the airport, I could
not see that it had started to snow, and they were cancelling
flights. "That can't be, it's too early for snow." My anxiety
and disappointment was too much for the person who broke the news
to me, so he immediately said, "Oh wait, we have a limo leaving
for Boston, you will be able to connect to New York from there."
Me, my hats and furs, and bags, rushed for a seat in the limo.
Already seated was a young man about 32 and an older couple in
their sixties. As we pulled away I felt less panicked. You see
the dinner was at 6:30 and that was not the problem. But I was
told that he, Bill Wilson, would be reading the twelve steps at
a 2:00 pm meeting. There he would give and explain, in his own
words, what these steps meant. I didn't know much then, only up
to the second step. First was that I was powerless over my disease.
And second, a power greater than myself, if he were asked, would
restore me to sanity. There was no time for good-byes after arrival
at Logan. I ran and tried to find the plane. Made it. All I can
remember now is getting to the hotel and dropping off my stuff.
I found myself hungry and wanted a cup of coffee. I thought they
would have coffee at the meeting, but this was to be no ordinary
meeting. The King! The man! What did I know? One year sober, you
think that's a lot of time, and it is, but my knowledge of what
the program was about, the depth of it, no, it's not a lot of
time. I was still on drinking time, which meant I knew enough
to keep me sober, but my growth was to be like a tree, not overnight.
When I arrived at the function room of the hotel, there were many
chairs set up. I looked for the coffee and only saw only ice water.
It was very close to the time of the meeting. There were very
few people. In the large, quiet room, I found myself off drinker's
time. Stripped of self-centeredness and grandiosity, fur hat and
other luggage, I took a seat. I felt spiritual and calm. It was
serenity. I had heard about this and it was happening to me. He
walked up to the mike. He had white hair and was tall and slim.
All I remember was that he did not preach or yell, nor did he
use words I could not understand. Simple. I had heard a few guest
speakers at anniversaries that had way more volume. He said: ''
Don't drink and help another alcoholic. Try to be honest in all
your affairs. Promptly admit when wrong. Pray that resentments
may be removed. Forgive those who have hurt you. And sobriety
was a gift to be given away freely''. It was over in about a half
hour. The chairs never did get filled. The coffee never arrived.
In fact, it was very quiet. I don't remember if anybody went up
to him or not. I didn't. I heard many times at meetings, don't
put anyone on a pedestal because they are only human, they could
let you down. Maybe when the meeting was over, I went back to
drinking time and uncertainty. I heard what I came to hear, but
I didn't want to put him on a pedestal. I wish now that I had
followed my heart and went up and at least shook his hand and
said, "Hello, I'm Ruth, an alcoholic from Rhode Island." That
was the last time he was to give a speech in New York He died
a few years later in 1971.
Copyright; Ruth Mahoney
September, 1989
