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We hope that you enjoy today's speaker. Hi everybody. My name is Larry Thomas and I'm an alcoholic >> and I'm guilty with an explanation.

So, uh, I, uh, I'm glad to be here and I want to thank, uh, Bob and who's ever responsible for asking me to come out and be here. Last year, I talked on step six and seven, and, uh, the response was so good that I had about uh, 100 guys call me afterwards and four of them send me dirty pictures. So, I uh, kind of glad I'm that's on bill this year.

So, uh, I want to make sure that I get done in time because I it's uh I don't want Bob Daryl to get up and tell me when to stop which I think is ironic in its own you know uh which is Bob could give a 2-hour talk on you know rarely so I uh it's okay I got my check no I I uh I'm glad to be here. If you're new, I want to I want to I want to talk to the new people because the old-timers don't like me. Uh so I uh I uh I'm a loser.

We've heard some uh we've heard some excellent talks. Excellent. Excellent talks about Alcoholics Anonymous and these steps.

And uh for a couple days now, we've been talking about these steps. And up to this moment, every one of these steps, the alcoholic of my type has been facing this way. All the steps, the self-examination, coming to believe, the inventory, everything's turned this way.

It's turned inside. Now comes the thing that makes alcoholics anonymous. Alcoholics anonymous in my mind is when that alcoholic turns that way and starts going out into the world.

I don't so much think about forgiveness when I think about these steps as much as I think about responsibility. Now we become responsible. Now we become willing to go out and make right of the wrong that we've done and take blame right out of the vocabulary.

No longer is there any more fingerpointing. No longer is there any excuses. We've got the facts and we're that guy.

And this is the thing where most of our membership starts hauling ass. They start taking off, baby. You know what I mean?

And if there's ever a spot where your defects of character start popping up, it's right about now. Procrastination, greed, sloth, all these things that keep you from going out there. You know, I uh my sponsor tells me that I'm living proof that a man can stay sober for close to 29 years.

And uh he says I you know um I'm not much, but I'm all I think about. That's for sure. You know, and uh I believe uh I don't ever want to forget from whence I came.

I don't ever want to forget what happened to me uh uh about 34 years ago when I was in a holding tank at the South Bay courthouse and the holding tank was empty and everybody was getting ready to go and all the buses are gone and all the other guys are gone and I'm sitting around um a holding tank on a concrete floor with some bologn sandwiches wondering where they're going to send me now. And a little Scottish man with a patch opened up a jail door and said, "Are you Larry Thomas?" And I said, "Yes, sir, I am." And he said, "Come with me, son. We're going to AA." And I said, "Oh my god, what's AA?

I've heard of O and P O, but what's AA?" You know, and uh who's this little Scottish pirate all of a sudden? You know, and where's this parrot, you know? And looking back, that man took me to my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous in 1975.

And looking back, he was uh first time I'd laid eyes on a trusted servant here because he had no business being there. Now, I come from a great home. I come from some great people.

I was born in Detroit and I come out to California when I was about four years old. I was brought up in a little Jesus. Do you think this will be enough?

No, I don't think it will be. I uh I was born in a little place outside Detroit and uh my mom's a little Scandinavian lady and uh my mom loved diet pills. My mom loved eating that speed and running around the house cleaning, you know, and uh and everything in the house uh was was spotless, you know, and she used to run around and uh and uh and make afghans.

Everything in the house had fresh afghans on it, you know. Couches had Afghans, the chairs had Afghans. My dad's golf clubs had a little poodle head she knit, you know, and uh and if there was any animals, they had a tight vest on, you know, and everything was tight and pink just like her, you know, and uh and no matter what time you got up, she was up doing something, you know, cleaning it with your toothbrush, you know, and and I love that lady and I love her today, you know, love her today.

But what would start at that early age is something that would follow me into Alcoholics Anonymous. And that is and it came out in an inventory and and it is what I would do with people that love me and showed me affection. And it followed me.

It started then and it followed me into Alcoholics Anonymous. And I would play that lady like a fiddle. That there would never be a time too inconvenient for me not to put the touch on that lady.

And make no mistake about that, there was never a time too inconvenient. And that would be a pattern of living for me that would follow me into Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm a taker.

I'm a user. I'm a user of people. And if I ever want to find out on my list who should be on there, I just got to write down the people that I took from.

And I've been taken from people my entire life. You see, I'm a loser. I'm a quitter and I'm always on the take and I got my hand out.

And I never want to forget what it's like to be 16 years old and be put away for a little short period of time for being a punk. And I'm supposed to get out of this little place and I'm supposed to show up at home on a Monday and I don't show up on a Monday. I show up on a Thursday and I don't show up at the house.

I show up at my mom's place of business. My mom's working at a dry cleaners. She's cleaning people's houses, but she's working at this dry cleaners.

And I show up at this dry cleaners on an April morning about 9:00 in the morning and that rain's hitting me. And I got my drunken mud on. And my mom's about from here to those back doors.

And I'm staring at her through that cold April rain. And the only thought that I have is she better have a buck. And I walk through that rain, enter that lady's place of business, and one more time I startle her with my presence, which would be an ongoing thing with me.

And without batting an eye, I ask that lady for some money. And she opens up her little wallet from she got from Walwarts. And a picture of me falls out when I'm about 8 years old on a little league team, the only decent picture she'd ever have of me.

And she breaks out that $1 and then $2. And I take the money and I run off to Wilmington where I'm going to die. Now, the thing that brings it home to me, if you're new in Alcoholics Anonymous, is you take the same man and you bring him to a room like this or a home group where every action that I take is for my life.

My life depends on everything that I do here in AA. And I need to ask you this if you're new. And that is how come when my life depends on it, I can't walk that same distance.

If you were to put a secretary of a meeting that same distance as me and my mom, how come when my life depends, I can't walk that distance and ask a man for a job at a meeting that's going to save my life? But I can walk that distance and use my mom time and time and time and time again. And I'm here to share with you, if you're new, that if my alcoholism doesn't kill me, my selfishness and my self-centerness will make no mistake about that.

which is why it's necessary for a man with close to 29 years to be close to and active in a program called Alcoholics Anonymous and even more so a home group. You see, I'll never get so sober that I can't get drunk again. There is no place.

But I can get so drunk that I can't make it back. And I never want to forget what it's like. I never want to forget what it's like to be out there.

To be living that life with no answer, to be restless, irritable, and discontented when you're sober. And the only thing you have to live for is maybe this time it'll be different. If I can just get that ease and comfort again.

Now, my dad was a happy drunk. My dad was a happy singing the blues, Nat King Cole, Bobby Darren drunk. My dad loved to drink and sneak into his own damn house.

It was amazing thing, you know. And uh and you can tell cuz he had these big refinery boots as he's sneaking in that damn window. And and he's always stepping on my little chest as he's coming in there, you know.

And I grabbed his boot one night and I said, you know, why don't you have mom make you a set of keys, you know? She's up anyway. I mean, uh I can hear the Hoover going now for God's sakes, you know.

And uh Oh, man. And I wanted to be I you know I I love my dad. I thought until I come to Alcoholics Anonymous.

I had no idea what love was. I had no idea what love was until I met you. I spent my entire life seeking my dad's approval.

I've spent my entire life feeling guilty and full of shame. And no matter what room I would ever sit in, the only thing that I would bring in would be guilt and shame. That's all I would ever bring in.

I was so afraid of my dad that I sought his approval so he wouldn't do to me what he was doing to my mom. Both of these people were on my amends list. I got my amends list from doing an inventory with a sponsor.

I didn't go up out in Malibu and burn it. I had some people's names on there. And they weren't hard to find because all that was on that piece of paper was the wallpaper of my mind.

You see, I'm an alcoholic. I can't get away of the memories and the faces of people. They're all around me.

And I try to drink to get rid of those faces and those things that I've done. And these faces are all around me when I'm sober. These people that I continually to run through because of my selfishness and my self-centeredness and to use them time and time and time again.

I felt so guilty about not being able to keep my dad from beating up my mom that I thought it was my job at a at a young age of four and five. And I hated that guy. And yet I was so ashamed of myself for not being able to stop him from doing that.

And I grew up in this environment of not trusting. I didn't trust my mom because she put up with it. And I didn't trust my dad for the things that he was doing.

And God, I didn't know what to do with that. I didn't know where to go with that. And I had these two sisters that love me to death today.

And I had no idea. But I avoided them like the plague. You see, because I needed to have that 100% approval in my family.

Bill Wilson always talked about that being on the top of the heap. And I never got close to these little girls. And they loved me and they looked up to me and I would have no part of that.

and I would run through their lives and I would use these people and they would be on my list and their names and my actions would blind me. And at the age of 11 years old, I went into a garage and me and my buddies poured a bottle of four rose whiskey. And for the first time in my life, I felt that sense of ease and comfort, that sense of well-being, that place that I couldn't find when I was not drinking.

That place that no matter what was going on my life and and how close I was to people and how well I was trying to do in school, that place that seemed to avoid me no matter how I tried to get there. But what I found when I took a shot of alcohol is I could step into this room. I could step into this place that was the safest place that I know and it would become the shest thing that I ever believed in was that every time I took a shot of four rows whiskey I stepped and I walked into the most peaceful place that I ever knew.

And the longer I drank, the more I stepped into that little room. Now, I didn't head out to Skidro that next day, lose my paper out, and come to AA, you know, but what I did do is remember that spot because the older I got, the more I would rely on that spot because I wouldn't have the ability to mature and develop and just grow along and just grasp and develop a manner of living like everybody else. Everybody around me seemed to just stepped into maturity and I just didn't have that.

And I felt so weird because I felt so crazy and out of place, but yet there was nothing around me that I could pin it on. And that made it feel even worse. And I lived this life of irresponsibility of being a taker.

And I've been taken my entire life. And I started hanging around some guys. And I started around 12 or 13 years old.

I walked past a garage and these guys were working on a on a dragster and I fell in love with these guys and uh and and working on these cars and became a part of something and there were some beer drinking and there was some camaraderie and I loved it and I I wasn't interested in school. I was interested in meeting in that garage on every weekend, you know, and chasing tools for these guys and going away for the weekend to drag strips and feeling a part of something. And I know that disappointed the old man, but you see, I've got that wall of hate going with him already.

You see, I've got to feel guilty about the people that I resent. I've got to keep that going because I'm not going to apologize for any action that I ever do. I've got to have that chip on my shoulder at all times, you know.

And I get into high school and I start dating these this little Mexican girl. And I start hanging around these little Mexicans and I start dating this little girl and this little this little gal had some brothers and her brothers like lowered cars and I love lowered cars and we used to take our 62 Chevys and lower them right down to the ground. Get our hair up real big like a Bakersfield tumble weed, right?

Drive around. I listen to the four tops and the Temptations and the OJ's and Marvin Gay and God I love it, man. I was in my plumbing truck the other day and the four tops came on.

and I just start sinking in my damn car. You know, I loved it. I had my white t-shirt and black khaki pants that came up to here, right?

Women were telling me that men who are wellendowed had big feet. I had a pair of 15-in shoes I was driving around in, you know, got my big hair and my big feet, you know, and I got a big frown on my face cuz my ass hurts from bouncing around all night, you know. I had a little Mexican girlfriend named Loopy.

She curled up her hair real big and I curled up my hair real big and we'd bounce around wondering what the hell you're staring at. You know, drinking that 151 rum, driving up and down Lennox and Hawthorne Boulevard and you know, I'm 120 lbs. I can't lick a stamp.

My eyes are about this, my arms are about this big. I drink that whiskey and I lean that little arm and press it around that big car door to make it look big so you don't mess with me, man. you know, and I became somebody in my own mind, you know, nobody else knew it, but in my own mind, I was Lawrence of Torrrent for God's sakes, you know, and that's all that matters is that you're something, you know what I mean?

And I bounced around these guys for a long time. And every time I took a shot of that little Thunderbird wine, I stepped into that little place, man. I stepped into that little place.

And when I stepped into that little place, I wasn't that little goofy kid who was afraid of the dark. I wasn't that little that I wasn't that little kid that uh when his uh baby brother died. I'm about 6 years old and my dad came into my room.

My dad came into my room and said, "You're going to have a baby brother." And I started saving up my my baseball clubs and started cards and started oiling up my glove. And I start thinking about that little kid brother, how me and him are going to go to the drags and we're going to go to the the beaches, man, and I'm going to have a little buddy. Nine months later, my dad comes into that same room, tells me that my little baby brother died.

I didn't have any ounce of compassion. I didn't think about how's mom, how are you? I went after him with all 60 lbs.

Now I'm only six years old and I'm banging on this guy telling him that you promised me and I blamed that guy for something that he had no power over. And when I took an inventory in Alcoholics Anonymous, lo and behold, that little guy was going to be on the top of that list, my dad. And already I'm building this little wall between me and my old man.

And I wanted nothing to do with him. But God, I wanted to be with him. God, how I would miss him.

And what happened to me is the older that I got and the more I leaned on that wine, I began to introduce my mom and dad to a level of living that they never knew existed. They were just little uh little folks from uh Detroit and Ohio. They were naive to some of the things that I would bring to their porch and I would rub their nose into a level of living and ruin any dream they ever had of living a decent life.

They were both on my list. I bounced around with these guys for a long time because there comes a point in the alcoholic's life that the longer I drank, the smaller that window got and the smaller that window got. And there comes a time in an alcoholic's life where that little that little window of ease and comfort no longer is there and you can't find it.

But you got to find it because when you're sober, the nightmares are right there. And yet I can't find that little place. And I'm desperately trying to find that place.

And I've got the shakes and I've got the physical things going on with me. And yet the nightmares are still there. And I can't get them out of my mind.

You see, I'm an alcoholic. What I've come to believe in and learn here in rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous that I'm an alcoholic and that the memory of my last drunk haven't sufficient force to keep me sober. And I had no idea about that.

I had no idea that that no matter how bad that last drunk is, no matter how disgusting and what happens to it for long-term sobriety, it has no sufficient force. that the memory of my last drunk, no matter how bad it is when I am not drinking, is pushed away by the way and the pain that I feel when I'm sober and that I'm going to drink again, not because of choice, but because of the pain that I feel when I'm not drinking. So drives me to drink time and time and time again.

I can't stand the way that I feel when I'm sober. And the longer I stay sober, the worse I feel. and coming to AA and watching these guys with these ties on say things like 30 days ago I was on the streets of Los Angeles.

Now I'm the president of the Bank of America. Thank you. You know, and I'm going my god, I came in with that guy.

You know, and isn't it amazing what happens to people like me and you? I persisted in trying to recapture a moment that wasn't even really happening. The persistence of that illusion was astonishing.

I pursued it into the gates of insanity and death. And I come to Alcoholics Anonymous to find out that that little window wasn't even really there. That there's just one out of 12 people that that thing opens up to.

And it was an illusion, but it was the realest thing I ever knew. It was the only peace I'd ever had. It was the only good life I ever knew.

And whether it be real or not, I needed it. And every time I would get physically sober, I would see the things happening to this young body. And I would see the swelling and the sores and the things that go on with us physically.

I would see the the mental things that go along with this. I would see the threats of institutions. I would have people that love me to death telling me to stop and begging me, yet I'm an alcoholic.

All of that stuff I know perfectly well and it seems to be all pushed aside for the silly notion when I'm 3 months sober or 3 weeks that man, maybe this time it'll be different. It's got to work this time. I'm out of my mind now and I can't imagine life without it.

And I had no idea that I had this thing called alcoholism. I had no idea. And in 1972, I'm over there in Phoenix, Arizona.

I'm over there at the at the Apache Hotel. I was on my way to Detroit, and I wound up in Phoenix at the Apache Hotel. And the Apache Hotel is about five floor high.

Everybody's got a TV and it's in the lobby. Everybody's got a bathroom and it's down the hall. It's about 35 bucks a month.

And I can't get the dough to pay my rent. I'm in this little room with a hot plate and a hot TV. I got a little window that I peek out every now and then because I'm afraid to go outside.

And then as soon as the sun goes down, I'm afraid to be inside. And I walk the streets and I duck into the wagon wheel bar thinking that maybe this time I can find a little bit of peace. After a while, I hook up with these guys.

And uh I got this best friend of mine. I got this righteous partner that went with me from Los Angeles to to Phoenix. And me and him are out at Sarawa Lake.

And we're drinking our Thunderbird wine and we're floating around on there in a raft and my best friend flips over and he starts sinking and I take a dive after him and it's pretty brown and I can't see anything. And that's the last dive I took because the only thought that I have is maybe now I can go get his dope. And the only thing that I hear when I'm underneath that water is a man screaming underneath water.

And it's a loud scream, but it ain't loud enough to turn me back because I know what's in his room and it's all mine now. And I get up and I swim to shore as the sheriffs and everybody try to find this guy. That man was on my list.

That man was on my list. And that scream haunts me every now and then today. They say, "No, you can do anything you want to in Alcoholics Anonymous if you're willing to pay the price." There are some things that we have done that no matter how hard we try to make amends just doesn't erase the memory of the action and that's the price.

But yet there's a way to live that maybe we can make it as right as we can regardless of the situation. In 1974, I came out of a county jail in uh southern Arizona for writing prescriptions. And I'm not a doctor.

And I'm no big- time convict. I'm just a loser, believe me. And they sent me back to to Los Angeles and I went to the LA city hall and I registered there and they gave me a little room at the Greyhound Hotel.

and my uh probation officer put me on antabuse for the first time in my life. And for the first time in my life, I'm not drinking and I don't have any drugs in me. And I'm stone cold sober.

I don't have a driver's license because that's been taken away till I'm 30. And I get a little job offer over there in uh in Elsagundo, California. You see, my dad worked for a refinery.

My dad was strapped with character. My dad was the type of guy who started things and finished them. I'm a quitter.

And I wanted to be a refinery worker like my dad. My dad worked for as a as a janitor for Union Carbide and then after about 30 years become plant manager part of OSHAW. I wanted to be like my dad in the in my most drunken moments.

I thought it was possible. And I get this little job offer for a for a uh a laborer over at this refinery. And I take the bus over there and I'm about 3 hours early and I don't know what to do with myself.

So I go over to a little league dugout and wait and I'm stone cold sober and I'm slip into this in between hysterical and maniacal. my paranoia gets so intense that I start hallucinating and I don't know what's going on with me. Somebody said they called the paramedics and they came over and they took me to the Harbor General Hospital and they looked at some of my paperwork and they said by the looks of what's been going on with you maybe you need to be go to a state hospital for about 30 or 60 days and they sent me to a state hospital out by Oxnard.

And a year later, I came out and I was totally observed by that point and they gave me some medication to take for certain disorders. But I tell you, there's one thing you can't medicate away in the alcoholic. This time it's going to be different.

And after about two months, I ran out of thorazine and they found me over there over Vero Street behind a Chevron gas station, curled up a public nuisance. That's what I am. I'm a public nuisance and they rolled me up on a violation and sent me up the wayside.

And I'm up there at Wayside for a couple months and they put about 40 of us in a black and white bus and they send me down to the South Bay courthouse where I'm going to be tried and put away. The loser's finally going someplace. And like I said at the beginning of this thing, I'm sitting in this little concrete floor of this holding tank and this Scottish man with a patch opens up that little door and he says, "Hi lad, my name is Alex.

Come with me. We're going to AA now." I'm ready for a long ride and maybe some lunch, maybe a long drive up north and stuff like that. And he takes me to a 15-minute car ride to my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.

and he drives me to this stinky, pukey, smelly little Alano Club over there in Torrance called the TLC Alano Club. And I said, "My god, what is what is an Alano anyway?" You know, is that like an elk or a moose or, you know, some kind of Samoan bar, maybe? What is an Alano?

You know, and he pulled up to this Alano club and there they were. All the Alanos were walking around, you know, and everybody had a nickname and a tattoo. He started introducing me to all these Alanos, Indian Genie and Captain Bob and Tennessee Bill and Singing Sam and Serenity Sam and Bicycle Ray and Santa Claus Ray and Dancing Pete and Whistling Butt and all these other I go I said, "My God, I just left a group of people like this, you know.

Everybody had a nickname and a cup on a wall, you know, and little moose come running after me through that. Hi honey, my name is Moose and I'm expecting a miracle. I said, I bet you are, man.

I'm not it, you know. And uh some transvestite came out of the card room. He starts circling me like a helicopter in Norwok, you know, and uh it lands and he walks over to me in his new mumu and he says, "Hi, I can't wait to take you to our candlelight meeting." And I said, "I don't think so." You know, not till I get my year, you know.

And I told Alex, I said, "My god, that guy's got big feet for God's sakes, you know. And I looked around that room and I says, "My God," I said, 'You know, if that's the effect of that little blue book, I'm not going to crack that thing open either, you know. And and from 1975 to 1982, I came in and out of Alcoholics Anonymous, which was the biggest lie that I was telling myself was that I was coming in and out of Alcoholics Anonymous.

I hadn't touched aa hadn't touched it. What I did is what I've been doing my entire life, though. And why would it change?

I sat in these rooms waiting for people to do something for me. I've been sitting in rooms my entire life for the state and the county having them do things for me and give me checks and blocks of cheese and stuff. All my life I've had the handout and it became another room for me to sit in waiting to find out what you can do for me.

What will you do for me? What are you going to do to me? And isn't it amazing that what I was waiting to be done to me, God was waiting to do through me.

That my days of getting were over. That Alcoholics Anonymous isn't a place to get anything. You don't even get sober here.

You can do that around the toilet. But this is where people like me learn how to live where I don't have to return to the pursuit of that little blue window, that illusion. Alcoholics Anonymous is when these steps are taken relieve that obsession to drink.

And I had no idea what was going on. But every time I called Alcoholics Anonymous and I would call that central office, somebody would come and get me. And they were always clean and they were sharp.

And whether I called South Bay Central or the Harbor area in Long Beach or LA, somebody would come and get me. And most of the time, most of the time was a little ball-headed carpenter, a little Montana cowboy. He would come and get me.

And he never asked me, "Are you ready to come get sober? Are you done yet?" He'd come take me to you. That little ball-headed carpenter would take me to you.

I wear a coat and tie because of people like that. I wear a coat and tie because this is the only place that I've ever learned how to live and show respect for the thing that's saving my life. I wear a coat and tie because there's people in this room who taught me how to do certain things and take certain steps and make things right.

We're wearing a coat and tie for you isn't nothing. It is a privilege. Everything about my life is a privilege.

And isn't it amazing how these obligations turn into privileges? If you're new, the only thing that I can tell you is be prepared to be divinely inconvenience for the rest of your damn life because there's nothing about AA that's going to go to your liking. In fact, we have to do the uncomfortable to get comfortable, which is where we at in this step.

This is exactly where we're at now. And a May 2nd, 1982, I'm standing at a Woolworth window and I'm looking at myself and I'm 120 lbs and I'm yellow. My hair's down to my back and I got everything I owned on me.

And I'm looking at myself in this little reflection of this mirror. And I said to myself, "My God, what ever happened to my dreams? How come I'm always getting drunk and I'm always getting sober and there's nothing ever in between?

How come I'm how come I don't have any dreams? The only dream that I've ever had is I've got to get this stuff to work. No matter how hard it is, there's got to be a way for me to get this stuff to work." And that was my only goal in life was to try to find a way to get this stuff to work.

And I looked at myself in that Woolworth window and I said to myself, "My god, whatever happened to my dreams?" And I did what I always did when I got that way. I panhandled some money and I called Alcoholics Anonymous. And who do I get?

I get Don. I said, "Don, this is Larry. I'm ready to come back to AA.

Will you come and get me?" And he told me the most profound thing I never heard in my life. He said, "No." He says, "You know where we are. You know what we got.

Why don't you get your rusty rear down here yourself? I'm tired of chasing after you." And he hung up. And I said, "My god, whatever happened to that aa love, you know." And I I just heard it.

I just heard it. For the first time in my life, it was unnecessary for the good people of Alcoholics Anonymous to come get me. It was now up to me to go to you.

And that very day I curled up in that little alley over there off of Anaheim and Broad. I was over there by that little Beacon Light mission and I checked into that little Beacon night mission and I conceded to my innermost self that I was an alcoholic. This is the first step in recovery.

I was able to look at my life and see what this thing had done and that I was like a a tail on a kite that whenever it says we're flying that I would have to go with it. And now I didn't want to drink anymore. Now I didn't want to be that animal anymore.

Now everything in me wants to stop and I can't. And I'm so afraid of this thing whipping me again and whisking me away that I had a fear for this thing called alcohol that I never had before. It was a respectful fear cuz I knew that I was powerless that I'd been in this place before and that there wasn't a living situation that strong to keep me from drinking again.

And I knew it was going to happen. And I was so afraid that I called that guy down there at that Alano Club and I made the longest walk of my life, that 10 miles with that poopy pants and no hope. And I went down to that Alano Club and I walked that 10 miles.

And every mile of the way, my head was telling me, "You ain't going to make it. You're a loser. You've been here before, Larry.

It ain't going to do it, pal. You ain't going to cut it. You've been here.

You know what's going on here." and I didn't listen. My eyes were on the Montana Cowboy and I walked into that Alano club and I said, "Is Dawn here?" And they says, "Yeah, he's over there by the coffee bar." And I walked up to that guy and I asked that guy something I'd never asked a man in Alcoholics Anonymous. I says, "Don," I says, "I don't know what to do with my life.

Would you be my sponsor?" And that guy lit up like a chandelier for about 5 seconds and then he lit into me for about 20 minutes. And under no certain terms was he going to put up with my nonsense. And we checked into that mission and it was my job to leave that mission.

And I remember my first night at that mission. They didn't have a big book because they they saved you and you had to sing for your beans to eat and then they'd let you out. And I remember my first night there how they didn't have a big book so I grabbed a Bible and I'd never had a B I had a Bible one time and I used it as a leg on a couch.

I'd never opened it before in my life and I didn't open it that night but I held on to something because I knew AA had something to do about God and it was the closest thing that I had and I held on to that thing and I tied my shoes to my feet so no one could take them and there was only about 15 of us in that mission and I stayed there that night and I couldn't wait to see you guys the next day. I couldn't wait to see you. And Don got me on this road and he got me started into service and he got me to do that inventory.

And after several weeks, we had that list. We had that list. And I says, "I can't wait to go see mom and dad and tell him about this." And he says, "Oh, no you don't.

Oh, no you don't. You're at the point now where you've been coming in and out of these rooms so much that when you mention AA, they think you're going to get drunk again. He says, "Why don't you just give them a break?

Give them a rest, Larry. We've got some other ones that we can do, but why don't you just give them a rest? And if you need to call them and ask them, go ahead and call them and ask them how they're doing, but for God's sakes, don't tell them what's going on with you now.

You've done that and they're just gunshy now. but go ahead and call them and if you need to and stuff, but he says, "Don't start this on them again." And he got me out of that trap. And I eventually did make amends to those people, believe me.

But like I said, the other people that were on the list was my little sister. And I used to play with that little girl. And she had a big brother.

And at the age of about 10 or 11, I started drifting. But if there's one set of people that I always choose when I could, it was my family. And I remember coming out of that coming out of that asylum.

And I had a couple days interview interval and I wasn't drinking and I was on an abuse. and my little sister and her husband lived over there in Torrance and they had a little place and they had a dream and that dream was that they were going to become teachers and move up to Monterey. And I started hanging around my sister again.

And I remember I had a little room over there in Torrance and uh and I wasn't working. And Debbie says, she says, "You seem to be uh doing okay." She says, "Uh, I need you and I need you really bad now. I need your help." She says, "Uh, I need you to watch the house for us." and it's only from Friday to Sunday.

She says, "Me and Danny have an interview with some realators up in Monterey and I've got an interview with the city hall of Monterey." And she says, "I need you to watch my house, Larry. And there's nobody else can do it. And all I want you to do is to watch the dog and pick up the mail out front and just houseet.

Would you do that for me? I need that." And I tell you, I wanted to do that for my little sister. And I was in between and I and I and I thought, "Yeah, I'll do it, Debbie.

I'll do." And I'm figuring, you know, how bad could it be? I'll sit in there and I'll watch. And they take off on Friday.

And Friday goes along and it's okay. And, you know, not a problem. I watering, you know, and I'm walking the dog and I'm reading her mail and everything.

Everything's going okay. And then the next morning on Channel 7, they start advertising a Tyson fight. And I love watching the fights.

I loved watching the fights and drinking wine and having some jiffy pop and uh and I just blow that out. I don't think about it cuz I got to walk that dog and I got to, you know, read her mail and stuff. But the engine starts, the piston in the engine starts and it won't let up.

and I can't walk that dog fast enough and I can't look at that male enough. And then the thought dawn on me, what is the big deal? You're in a house.

You just get the bottle of wine and watch the fight and that's all there is. In fact, walk the dog a lot, you know, take that son of a gun around five times, man. you know, and I do that and I'm going to go get me my wine and I go down to Hans Market cuz the Tyson fight's going to start at 7:00.

And I go down to Hans and I get myself my little fifth of Santa Fe port, drink until that little cart starts moving, you know, and I get that little bottle of port and that's all I remember. That's all I remember until Sunday morning when my little sister and her husband come home early and they were to find the front door wide open and the picture window busted with a curtain flowing through it. They were going to see the gate wide open and the dog gone and me laying on the ground over there in the garage because what I'd done is I I found a sparklets w water bottle full of pennies and I busted it.

And that's what I was taking to continue my run. And my little sister comes in and she just starts crying and her husband grabs me and he yanks me out of the house. and he pulls me down and we're walking.

My little sister has her little hands in her face and all she could say was, "You promised me, Larry. You promised me." That little girl was to come on top of my list. I made amends to that little girl.

My big sister. My big sister had a One of the hardest amends that I had to make was to my big sister because it just happened not too long ago. My big sister had a son and her son grew up to be a a beautiful boy.

He was strong. He was handsome. He was smart.

And my dad loved him. And if there was any sense of strong love that you could ever sense, if it's between a grandpa and a grandson, and I'm about 20 years sober, and I see this relationship forming, and I've been watching it for 10 years, and I'm eaten up with jealousy and envy because why couldn't he do that to me? But yet, did I give him that opportunity?

And I seen my dad and that little grandkid and my nephew have a relationship that killed me. Killed me with envy and jealousy. And my dad got to watch him go to games and stuff like that.

And what I did is the older that kid got, the colder I was to him. And now if there's anything neat in the family, it's an uncle. He's supposed to be a cool guy.

My uncle was cool. introduced me to my first Latin woman, you know, and Yeah. Yeah.

I remember being about 12 years old, drunk, and kissing my first Latin woman with him right over there, you know? It was his wife. So, I just We're family, you know what I mean?

That'll make old Uncle Jack a little leery, you know? Well, I remember being sober and uh and I remember how I treated that kid and how I would just give him the cold shoulder. And this kid ain't doing nothing but loving me.

He loved to hang around me. He said I made him laugh and he loved me. He just loved being around me.

And I couldn't figure it out cuz I was too busy being cold, being right. And that kid went to Humbult College, going to graduate with honors. And two weeks before he graduates, he's playing basketball with his buddy and they die.

And he dies on the basketball court, has a heart attack. And I don't have to worry about him anymore. I don't got to worry about Ryan anymore.

He ain't going to bother me. I couldn't get him out of my head because I knew I owed his mother an amends. And how beautiful it is to have a program of recovery called Alcoholics Anonymous that allows you to do these things and make these amends and sit that sister down as a 28-year-old member of AA to know that you're not done yet.

to sit your sister down and tell her the truth. I was mean to your son. I was rude and I was cold and I was no good to your son.

And I can't tell you I can't tell you how wrong I was about that. And I wished I could do something about that to make it right. And if you could tell me whatever it is, please feel free to tell me because I know I was wrong, Linda.

And I'd never been that honest with her in my entire life. Alcoholics Anonymous talks about being responsible. And I've got to be real careful about how I use this AA name when I'm making amends.

I've got to be real careful why I'm breaking my anonymity. You see, I'm a taker. I'm not one of these guys that every amend I made, I threw out the named AA.

I was very careful about that. My sponsor told me about that. I remember this kid that that I was growing up with, the one of the guys that was on my amends list was my best buddy Jeff.

And when we were low riding together, we used to hang around together. and uh and Jeff's folks went on a vacation and Jeff went with him and while they were gone for that week, I broke into his house and I stole his dad's coin collection and I took it to a pawn shop and I got some money and I got some dope and I sold it to Jeff cuz I'm a good friend And that was on my amends list. And I remember being about 5 years sober.

And I'm working at as a janitor at night at Montgomery Wards. And I'm coming home about 10 in the morning going up the escalator to the parking structure. And down the escalator is Jeff.

Larry. Jeff. I'll meet you down there.

And we start talking. His dad comes to my mind and he's on my list. I after I get done saying hi, how you doing, Jeff?

And I says, Jeff, how's your dad? He says, "Oh, my dad's doing okay." I says, "Is he over there? Is he still over there on Red Beam Avenue?" "Oh, yeah, he's still over there.

He lives by himself, but he's still over there on Red Beam." I says, "That's great." And I went to my sponsor and I knew I had to make amends to that guy and his dad. And I remember my sponsor says, "Well, you better take some cash. You never, you know what I mean?" So, I remember writing myself out a little check, $20 check, and I was going to make amends for that guy.

And I drove up to Red Beam Avenue, and the garage is open. It was one of those long garages where you got to walk up and I hear this. And I, huh?

Haven't heard that sound in a while, you know, and don't see any ducks around here, you know, but this sitting duck maybe, you know, and and I go walking up this driveway and his old man's behind all these deer heads and elk heads and soon to be my head probably, you know, and I walk around this table and I said, uh, and he's loading shotgun shells. He's a hunter, which is a good sight, you know. And, uh, he goes, "Who's here?" And I go, "Uh, Mr.

Mafan." He goes, "Yes." I said, "Uh, my name is Larry Thomas. I'm a friend of Jeff's." And I says, "I need to talk to you." And I hear this, you know. I says, "Uh, I don't know if you remember me." And he says, "Yeah, I remember you.

I remember you real well." He says, 'Why don't you come over here and say what you need to say and get the hell out of here? He says, 'What brings you over here?' And I said, 'Well, Mr. Mafin, I said, uh, I need to make amends.

I says, uh, when I was in high school, you went on vacation one week and, uh, I broke into your house and I stole a coin collection. And he turned around and looked at me and he says, "A coin collection to you?" That was no coin collection to me. He says, "When my father died, the only thing he left me was a coin collection.

And you took that. You took that from me. And you took my son along with you to that gutter of living that you live at.

He says, "I don't care if you're walking hand in hand with the Lord." He says, "I don't want you anywhere near my property. Now, you take your $20 check and you get into that car of yours and you better make it quick. And if you're ever in this neighborhood again, I'm going to blow your brains out." Yes, sir.

They're not always pleased with your recovery. And I did not realize what I had stolen from that man until that day, until Alcoholics Anonymous brought me into my father's life. I had no idea.

One of the amends that I had to make was to my little girl, my little baby Lauren. I had a I had a first wife in Alcoholics Anonymous. And me and this lady were married for a year and a half.

And when I was 5 years sober, I got a divorce. And the hardest thing for me to do was to leave that little girl. I left her mom because I felt myself wanting to get violent with her and I had a history of violence like that.

And one afternoon me and her mom were arguing and I was going to raise my hand to this lady and I seen this little girl, this little Cuban little girl staring at me. And the thought came to me, "No, I'm not going to put that vision in her head. I'm not going to be that guy.

I don't want to put that little I don't want that little girl to see that that's what happens with her dad. And I had to make some serious moves. And I had to make an amends to that lady.

And I felt so guilty about leaving that little girl. But I knew I couldn't live with her mom any longer. That I'd been living a lie.

That I've been living a lie my entire life because I'm a taker. And the only reason that I invite women into my life is so that I can use them. And the only reason that I con them into loving me is because something's going to happen to me in about a month.

And that animal's going to come out and there's going to be certain things going on in this house. And this love that I have for you will make you overlook some of these things that you're going to need to do. And I needed to make amends to that lady.

And I needed to make amends to that little girl. And I didn't know how to do that. And my sponsor told me that it wasn't time yet.

It wasn't time yet. It wasn't time yet. And in about 12 years sober, me and Clancy are talking over in New Mexico.

And we're driving back to the airport. And we got about 5 hours with the old man. And I'm talking to him and uh I said, "Clance, I need to talk to you." I says, "Uh, I feel like I owe amends to my little girl." And he says, "Oh." He says, "How old is she now?" And I go, "Well, she's 10." He goes, "Really?

Where does she live?" I said, "Well, she's over in Phoenix with her mom." "Oh, okay. Well, how's she doing?" "Well, she's doing pretty good." "How's she doing in school?" "Well, she's getting A's and B's and she's going to be on a scholarship." "Well, that's great. How does she get along with her mom?

Oh, they're they're buddies. They're God, they're tight. They're inseparable.

Well, that's good. Does she have friends? Oh, yeah.

She's just a little sunlight, you know, and everybody likes her and she's got little friends and stuff like that. He says, "But what about her little personality? Is she basically happy or she depressive or what?

She's she's the happiest little thing that I've ever seen in my life." He says, 'Well, why do you want to go over there and ruin that? He says, "Why don't you wait uh a couple years and uh if she's interested, she'll ask you about what happened?" And thank God for sponsorship because lo and behold, that's what happened. You see, one of the things of part of the amends to that little girl that my my home group and my sponsor occurred.

This is why it's so important to have a home group because there's going to be times when we rest on our laurels. There's going to be times when we don't want to make those amends. There's going to be times when we don't feel like getting in the river of action.

And that's why it's so important to be in an enthusiastic home group. Because when you're not feeling up to par, I can drag you along. And when I'm not feeling up to snuff, you can drag me along, but at least we're dragging each other to meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous where we're doing these things and you don't let me forget about this actions that I'm supposed and and one of the actions my home group encouraged and my sponsor encouraged was to never let that little girl wonder where you're at.

Don't ever let her wonder where you're at, Larry. And the women in Alcoholics Anonymous and and my wife Rosie encouraged that I kept writing this little girl. And the women in Alcoholics Anonymous told me, "Don't write that little girl on yellow legal paper.

Write it on Pocahontas paper for God's sakes." you know, and see her as often as you can and write those letters and have these daddy daughter dates where it's just you and her going to the show and you take her to a little place where she can make her own coffee cup and paint it, you know, but make sure it's just your time. And he says, "Make sure you do that often." He says, "Because if if you can go to Virginia and talk, why can't you go to Phoenix and see your little girl? what's more spiritual?

And I made sure that little girl never wondered where I was at. And I called her every day. And this one's for you.

This one's for you. Because two months ago, I went and seen that little girl. And I'm doing this thing and I'm driving over there and I'm writing those little letters and I'm sending her postcards and I'm having the daughter's daddy date.

And and I'm thinking, man, this little girl doesn't love me. What kind of a dad have I been? I'm a Disneyland dad.

I'm a I'm a shopping mall dad. I'm missing all the good things in her life, man. I ought to just back out.

But I kept my dates and I kept driving over there and I kept showing up for Christmases and birthdays and stuff like that. And and I knew I knew that probably she she liked her new stepdad better. You know what I mean?

that kind of stuff. And isn't it amazing? Two months ago, I'm over there and I'm doing my daddy daughter date with my daughter Lauren and she's 23 years old and we go out to eat and we come back to the room and she's sitting in the room with me and she says, "Daddy, I need to talk to you." I says, "Well, sure, honey.

What's wrong?" She says, "Well," she says, "nothing's really wrong." She says, "But I got a man in my life." I said, ' Really? Uh-huh. You got the man in your life?

Yep. You know, and I says, "Really?" I says, "Uh, who is the guy?" You know, and I wanted to say, "Is he anything like that old jackass you just left?" You know, I says, "Who is the guy?" She says, "Well, it's a guy that I work with. He's not in the same building.

He's over a couple buildings and he's about seven years older than me." And I says, "Oh." She says, "Uh, but there's a glitch." I says, 'Really?' She says, 'Yeah, uh, he was married before and he's got he's going through a divorce right now and he's got a seven-year-old little girl. And I says, "Oh." And she goes, "Yeah, and he was over last night and he was he was crying." And I says, "Well, what's going on?" She says, "Well, he's afraid that she's going to lose him. He's afraid he's going to lose her and she's not going to love him anymore and he's afraid he's going to lose his little girl.

I said, "Really?" I said, "Well, what did you tell him?" Oh, she says, "Daddy, it wasn't hard." She said, "I told him to write that little girl every week and to write them on Pocahontas paper and take them to those places where you can make your own coffee cup. and see that little girl as much as you can. And she says she'll always love him.

I had no idea that that little girl had saved every little letter I wrote her. I didn't know. You knew.

You knew. You knew that if I took these actions, certain things would happen to me. I finally made amends to that mother and father.

Finally, if it was clear long enough to sit my mom down. And the last time that I'd seen my mom, I banged her up pretty good on a drunk 24-year-old hot shot low rider breaks in on his mom. She's sitting there watching Johnny Carson and I break in on her.

She hadn't seen me in months and I got my drunken mud on and I've got my head laying down in my mom's lap and she's rocking and she starts crying and I hear her I feel her tears hitting my cheeks as she's rotting Johnny Carson and she starts praying to this Detroit God. Please watch over my baby boy. And I wake up and I said, "Mom, it ain't that bad.

It ain't that bad, Mom. Don't you worry." She goes, "Okay, son. Okay." And my mom walks off to her room and I start thinking about this half pint.

I start thinking about this half pint that maybe in the underneath by the garbage disposal. Dad always had it there. And like the days of wine and roses, I go into that kitchen and I start tearing up the kitchen looking for the half pint.

And I go in through the cupboards and I go in through the medicine chest and my mom comes down the hallway and she says, "Honey, what's wrong?" I said, ' Don't you, honey? What's wrong with me? And I started moving my mom around till I got blood out of her nose.

The macho man. I said, "Don't you, honey? What's wrong with me?" And I drew blood out of the little lady's nose and I fell asleep on the couch to wake up that I found the bottle.

It was in the trash can. I'd already drank it. And I was to sit that lady down after a couple years and make amends to her.

You see, I had no idea how she felt. I had an idea how she felt about me. But I had no idea till I heard an Allenon tape that you opened my eyes.

I wasn't open to anything that Alanon had to do. And I heard someone on an Alanon tape tell me about the blame that they feel. And I had no idea that this little lady, no matter how remorseful and how how she understood what I went through, that she still blamed herself.

And I knew I had to talk to her. All through our book, Alcoholics Anonymous, Bill talks about, "We will enjoy peace. We will have peace of mind." By golly, it ain't about my peace of mind.

I want to make sure that my mom has peace of mind. I want to make sure that I can reinstall that that when she goes to bed at night and hears sirens that she's not worried about me. You see, I want her to have peace of mind.

I have no doubt that I may get it, but that ain't my concern. My concern is, can I install that peace of mind in the people that I've upset my entire life? And it took more than an afternoon and a nap and a note.

It took me continually to go over there and not be a service to my mom for God's sakes, but to be her son that she once wished she had and to take my place in that lady's life and to let her know that all is good with these people and alcohol synonyms. All is good, Mom. And year after year, she would let me in and let me in and let me in.

And it wasn't until about eight years ago that she started hugging me. And it wasn't until about seven years ago that I started hugging her back. And it wasn't until about 3 years ago we started kissing each other.

What a lovely thing this thing called Alcoholics Anonymous. What a lovely thing it is to enjoy peace of mind and to see her not be afraid. just for her not to be afraid.

And one of the amends that I enjoyed was to my father. I didn't know how to start loving my father until I started getting close to a sponsor. I believe for me that the most important relationship in my life has been with my sponsor because it was the one built on trust.

It wasn't built on emotion or love or anything like that. It was a one built on trust. And I trusted my sponsor.

And I trust my sponsor today. And you taught me how to treat my dad. And I too got to watch my dad suffer from cancer.

But I got to be his son. And I got to take care of him. And it wasn't out of being a service.

I got to be his son. And I didn't have to seek his approval. But every time I seen him, I got to kiss him on the cheek.

tell him that I love him and he let me take care of his bills. You see, I'm responsible today. I don't have to throw the AA name out when I'm making my financial amends, which hopefully thinking I can get my personal AA break if they hear I'm in AA, right?

Yeah, I'd like to pay that $2,000, but I'm in Alcoholics Anonymous and drugs are a big part of my story. Is there a discount for that? You know, that was the area that I didn't tell him about my finance, my my AA.

Just pay the debt. You don't need to announce. I mean, how many people call them up and say, "I got lupus.

I need to pay some stuff." You know what I mean? Yeah. And I got to make amends to dad.

and I got to be his son. And one day I sat him down and I told him, I said, "Pop," I said, "Uh, I hated you for a long time and I blamed you for something that wasn't your fault." And I started telling him about my kid, brother. And he grabbed my hand.

He said, 'You know, that was the hardest thing I've ever had to tell you to do was to tell you that you weren't going to have a baby brother. He said, "Son, I watched you save your cards and all your glove month after month, and I wanted you to have that kid brother, and it was the hardest thing I ever did. And we got to be tight.

We got to be good friends in Alcoholics Anonymous." One of the ladies that I was involved with early on I started in my drinking, I started getting physical with and I was about 23 years old and I started doing some harm to her and I had to make amends to her and my sponsor said just write her a letter for right now. just write her a letter. And I wrote her a letter and I never thought anything about it cuz I was about 5 years sober.

And about 12 years sober, come seven years later, I'm talking at a meeting in Hermosa Beach. And I'm talking at a speaker meeting and at the end of the meeting, everybody's gone. And this little old man is in the back of the room and he starts walking towards me.

And I'm thinking, okay, this is the guy that didn't like your talk, you know. and he comes walking up to me and it's that lady's father. He says,"I need to talk to you, Larry." And I says, "Oh my god, it's that lady's dad." And I says, "Mr.

Proctor, I'm so sorry. I need to talk to you, too." He says, "No, you don't understand, son. You don't understand." He says, "Uh, I'm here because of you." I says, "I don't know what you mean, sir." He says, "No, listen to me, son.

About seven years ago, my daughter was living with me up in Pasa Robels. And she says, "Anything that ever came with men's name on it, I always read it." And she says, "When I seen your name, I opened up that envelope and I read this amends letter that you wrote to her." And he says, "I couldn't believe those three pages." And he says, 'When my drinking got bad, I knew where to go because my first thought that if AA could make a jackass like you write a letter like that, I want to find out where this place is at. Well, he did and he's been sober ever since.

I don't know much about the path and I got to wrap this up real short. I've been whining up here long enough. I don't know about this path that they keep talking about.

Everybody talks about we're on a narrow road and we're on the path and a happy road to destiny. Sometimes I don't know that I'm on that road. Sometimes I don't know when I'm on that path.

But every time I make an amends, every time I work with a man in Alcoholics Anonymous and I've been able to share this experience and I encourage him to go to his mom and dad, I encourage him to go back to his employers and make these amends. I encourage him to start making things right. Every time I leave that car or I leave that meeting, I get a glimpse of a tree or I'll get a glimpse of some rose bushes alongside that path.

I may not see the whole path, but every now and then I'll see the little light that comes over the path. Every now and then, I get a glimpse of peace. Every now and then, I know that I'm right with you.

And it's been my blessing and my good fortune that with people like you, I don't get so concerned about the path that maybe I should be so concerned about the land that it's on that I start taking care of this thing called Alcoholics Anonymous. That my primary purpose is to carry this message and perpetuate this gift. It ain't about getting anything.

I want to give this thing away. I want to see that new little plumber come through there and grab this thing, grab a corner of this star. I want I want to see him start marching out there and taking his place in life as a proud member of Alcoholics Anonymous without telling anybody you are.

What you are when you're away from us has everything to do with what type of member you are. And when you start making these amends, you are a trusted servant. You are carrying that coat of Alcoholics Anonymous.

And I was so proud that every amend I made, I remember getting cleaned up and dressed up to make these amends because I could be the only picture of AA these folks ever see. And I wanted them to see you. I wanted them to see you because of every window on my life, I see people in Alcoholics Anonymous.

And without seeing you, I can't even see my God. You see, they're the same to me. I've got a good life because of the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.

And these two steps have got me into a way of living where I don't have to drink again. Now, I don't know if I ever going to see God or touch him. All I know is that on a Saturday in Prim, Nevada, I see row after row of people who should be locked up dead or insane.

And look at us tonight. We're happy. We're joyous.

And we're free. I don't got to look at them. I got to keep coming back and playing in the evidence.

Thank you. Thank you for listening to Sober Sunrise. If you enjoyed today's episode, please give it a thumbs up as it will help share the message.

Until next time, have a great day. >>