Can you remember when you were in your mother’s womb? How about memories when you were 1 year old; or perhaps even 2 years old? My earliest memories are of me craving alcohol and sugar. My Mum would say I was a hyperactive child, so no sweets for me. But she had no issues with giving me a sip of beer to calm me down. I remember little of my childhood, but sometimes I remember brief flashes of my early years. And my flashbacks don’t make for good bedtime stories. Indeed of the many things I’ve lost from my alcohol use, none more cherished has been my memories.

This next author may have lost many things to be sure. However their vivid images and portrayal of early life on a sheep ranch on the prairies of Wyoming is a strong indication that memory loss is not one of them. We loved this story so much that we begged the writer to share more of their remarkable life experiences. Join us as we continue to follow this bittersweet and uplifting narrative in a special section of our Creative Corner page each month. As you enjoy this tale of An Unknown Alcoholic, stay tuned for more as we delve into the unique history of people in recovery. 

TALE OF AN UNKNOWN ALCOHOLIC

EPISODE 1

I was never properly socialized as a child. I lived with my grandparents, and I was raised with a working border collie on a sheep ranch in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming. My grandma kept me clean and fed, and when it was blowing snow and freezing cold she would put me in a cardboard box with a blanket, on top of the coal burning stove. In that box I was at eye level with everyone in the house. All the ranch hands who came in the house to watch the fights smiled at me and messed up my hair.

My grandma cooked two big meals every day for all the ranch hands, doing dishes and taking care of me, as all day long she was on her feet. There was no running water, not even a pump at the sink. The men brought in buckets of water from the pump in the yard in front of the house.

My grandpa was the foreman of the sheep ranch. My uncle Jimmy was still in school, and he always had a smile and kisses for me. I loved him so much! I was surrounded by smiles and love, and my grandma gave me hugs and they were the best!

When I was a toddler, at breakfast for all hired hands, I would walk around the table to each man (usually six men) they would tease me to stir their coffee with my finger to make it sweet. Laughing and smiling at breakfast was a fun time.

The border collie, Roadie, stayed by my side whenever I was allowed outdoors. She tried to stay with me in the house, but she had to go work with the other dogs to herd sheep. When my grandpa took me with him in an old car to ride along the irrigation ditches, Roadie sat right next to me all the time.

I never saw my mother when I was there on the ranch living with my grandparents. The only time I wasn’t on the ranch was when grandpa would take me with him at night to the bar in town. He would set me up in a blanket in a box, in the loft where I could look down through the rails and see him drinking at the bar. He always stayed there drinking until they closed for the day.

But when I was four years old my mother and her husband, and my aunt with two of my cousins showed up in the middle of the day, and that was the first time I met my mother, and it was the first time I ever saw another child my age. The adults went into the house and my cousins, and I were left outside to play. Right off, a cousin hit me in the back of my head with an old metal lunch box and knocked me out. I don’t really remember the rest of that day.

A few days later, my grandparents loaded me up in the car and then we drove for a long time. I know now that it was a two-hour drive. I was in the backseat, but I could tell that my grandma cried for most of the time we drove.

We got off the highway and came to a small house on a street with other houses, I saw a lot of houses - more than I had ever seen before! My mother came out and took us all into the house where I met my two-year sister and my infant sister. Needless to say, I was scared and didn’t know why we were there. The next thing I knew, my grandparents were getting into the car without me! I started crying and fighting to get away from my mother, to get out the gate and go get in the car. I made a big fuss and finally my grandpa told me they would be back soon.

I cried at that gate, looking down the street for their car, for days and days. They didn’t come back, and I didn’t see them again for months! I was stuck in that small house with a woman who said she was my mother, a man who told me he was my father, and two babies I had never seen before. I still remember my heart break from that day.

My Continued Time On The Ranch...

EPISODE 2

As I write this, I am almost 69 years old. I have previously written some of these memories in bullet format as part of my recovery.

From the times I was an infant to four years old, I was doted on and everyone I saw on the ranch loved me! That was obvious as the hired hands sweet-talked me whenever they saw me. They didn’t live in the house, but saw me at mealtimes. At breakfast and dinner, when my grandma put breakfast or dinner on the table, the hands were always polite and thanked her. They laughed and told stories at breakfast, but ate quickly so they could get to work on the ranch. At night they were much quieter, but my grandpa would sometimes talk about what got done that day, what work was needed the next day or who would do what.

When I learned to walk (I don’t remember that process) but I became grandma’s shadow. Holding onto her dress hem for balance, I followed her everywhere. One time I remember clearly was when my grandpa came home really late, long after dark. He was loudly hooting and hollering, 

"Where’s my little girl?” I was standing behind grandma holding onto her leg. I was trying to hide, and my grandma was trying to quiet him over and over. “James, you’re scaring her. James, please don’t talk so loudly!” He did not stop yelling and hooting.

My grandpa stumbled around, leaning on the walls and doorway, and bending down to reach for me while he hooted loudly and so very noisy. I tried to get away from him by getting behind the arm of the sofa. I lost my balance and tried to crawl away behind the sofa. 

“Oh boo-hoo,” he mocked my cries and got on his hands and knees and pushed the sofa away from wall. I went as fast as I could and got to my grandma, where I could hide behind her dress. The rest of that debacle I do not remember.

I remember another time when I was older, probably three years old. This memory is strong, partly because I was so scared and partly because grandpa told the story of this experience at least once a year.

One day, grandpa took me and the dog, Roadie, with him while he checked irrigation ditches to be sure the dams were holding. He drove for a short time then stopped on the side of the road. 

He told me to stay put. "Do not get out of this car!” It was a sunny day without a breeze, and pretty soon I was getting bored. Then a bee flew into the car, right where I was sitting. It was really scary, and not knowing what to do so I wouldn’t be stung, I got out of the car.

The bee stayed in the car, buzzing around, so I started to walk down the road with Roadie. After a long time I couldn’t see the car anymore and I was sweating, and my feet hurt from walking on the dirt trail. I heard a noise behind me, and it was Grandpa! He drove right past me, and the dust rolled over me. I didn’t know why he didn’t stop, but I could see the ranch ahead, so I kept walking. 

When I got there, I could barely make it up the stairs, but I managed to stomp over in front of Grandpa, put my hands on my hips, and yelled “Go’ dammit Grandpa, why didn’t you stop and pick me up!” 

He drained his shot glass and yelled back, “Go’ dammit Celia, why didn’t you stay in the car like I told you to!” Apparently he had gone up and down the ditch, horrified that I’d fallen in the ditch and drowned. I don’t remember ever going with him again when he checked the irrigation ditches!

I have more memories of when I was growing up on the ranch. Some are sort of funny, some endearing, and I always knew I was loved. My Grandpa didn’t always use good judgement when he took me with him as he worked on the sheep ranch, but I know now that he just loved me so much he wanted me with him always. 

SNAKES AND SANTA CLAUS

EPISODE 3

There was a time when I could walk all over, go pretty fast, and I always wanted to go with my grandparents wherever they went. After dinner one night I followed Grandpa outside to get water from the pump in the yard. I was keeping up, walking almost on his heels. It was really dark.

Grandpa stopped short, suddenly stopping with both his arms frozen and held straight out from his sides. He told me to go back in the house, “Go there now.” 

When I came into the kitchen I told Grandma what happened and asked what was going on, what was happening? She was puzzled, too. When Grandpa came back in, he was holding and shaking the rattles from a snake's tail. As he shook them, I could hear a loud rattle. He told us he had stepped right on the top of the big snake, holding it down with his boot, while he cut it in two right behind the head with his pocket knife. He said it was a rattlesnake and very dangerous. He went back out and we heard a loud bang on the wall by the door.

The next morning, as all the hired hands came in for breakfast, I could hear them talking excitedly. They saw the snake nailed to the side of the house by the door. They all went on high alert. While working that day many of them carried a shovel to kill a snake if they came across one.

I saw many snakes in Wyoming when I was growing up in my teens, and on into my adulthood. They were not always rattlesnakes. Grandpa brought rattlesnake tails to me from different jobs he held on other Wyoming ranches throughout the years.

As the year passed it became winter. It got cold and there was wind and snow everyday. I started hearing about Christmas and about reindeer pulling Santa through the sky on Christmas Eve. I was enchanted by the possibilities. And Grandma read stories about Christmas, too. Grandpa brought a small pine tree into the living room and placed it in the corner. It smelled so good! Grandma and I put red ribbons and jingle bells on the tree. 

One night after dinner, grandpa announced that it was Christmas Eve. Santa and his reindeer might bring me presents. Oh my, the excitement! Grandma pulled me to her where she stood at the back door. She said she heard jingle bells and I might hear them too, if I listened hard. 

She bundled me up and said we were going to the outhouse to see if we could hear the bells or maybe even the reindeer when they landed on the roof. High drama! We did hear bells as we went into the outhouse to escape the wind. Then we heard clattering sounds on the roof of the house. Of course, all the hired hands were in on the fun. They were ringing bells and making loud noises on top of the roof of the house.

Grandpa came and hugged me tight as he carried  me into the house and pulled off my coat and boots. He said, “Look! It looks like Santa was here.”  We rushed to the tree and I was amazed! There was a barn and little cows, horses and sheep standing inside a fence. Even a tractor and truck stood by the fence. A whole farm, all for me, covering the corner where the tree stood.. I spent hours playing with all the pieces, arranging and rearranging them.

Too soon, the tree was taken outside. Then the toys were left by themselves. Eventually they were scooped up into a plastic bag to keep together instead of all over the floor. I found that bag of toys with my stuff, when I was taken to live with my Mom.

My Life after the Ranch

EPISODE 4

I haven’t yet told you what happened in my life after I was left at the gate, crying. Everything was turned upside down and backwards. In all my time on the ranch, I was only scolded once, after leaving the car by the ditch and walking home. Every day was an adventure, full of smiles and hugs from my Grandma. The dog, Roadie, was my best friend. She followed me everywhere and gave me lots of kisses. I petted her every chance I got and loved her with all my heart. Now all of that was gone.

That first night with my Mom, I was so tired I just stood in the dark by the couch until she said it was time for bed. The only bed I saw was in the bedroom by the baby's crib. But, Mom took the two cushions off the couch and put them on the floor in front of couch. She covered them with a small blanket and that was where my sister Vickie slept. She put a blanket on the couch where the cushions had been and put me there. I was so tired from the long drive, and crying at the gate. It had been such a long day, so I fell asleep right away.

The next day in my new life, I met my new sister, a tiny baby, and Mom told me to take care of Jannie (the baby), and don't let Daddy hurt her. Daddy will feed her and change her diaper. I was supposed to keep her quiet, not crying. Of course, I didn't know what to do, and right away she started making crying noises. I'll never forget how Daddy suddenly picked Jannie up and threw her onto the bed and she bounced up and hit the wall! Daddy told me not to tell Mom, that everything was OK. I told Mom the first chance I got. She didn't say anything. I was left confused. I had never seen a tiny baby before, let alone take care of one.

I remember I was so scared of Daddy. Beside him throwing Jannie onto the bed, he told me that if I made too much noise, he would put me out in the backyard and his big dog (that looked like a wolf) would tear me to pieces and eat me. He grabbed my arm and leaned right in my face when he said that. It was terrifying.

Daddy was always combing his black hair over and over and slicking it back, watching himself in the bathroom mirror. Remembering now, he was combing his hair to look like Elvis did his hair. He raised his eyebrows and made faces at me and Vickie. We both tried not to cry so he wouldn't grab us by our arms and shake us.

When Mom was gone to work all day, Daddy did nothing but sleep in late and watch TV all day. He started telling us we needed a bath before Mom came home from work. When we didn't want to get in the bathtub he told us there was a witch living in the neighbor's black roof vent, right outside the bathroom window.

He said the witch knew when we were bad, and we'd better get in the tub, or she would kill us! We got into the bathtub, and it had hardly any water. Daddy had a camera with a big flash and a picture would come out the front. We had to look up at him and he took so many pictures that the bathwater got cold.

I found out years later, after he died in Washington state, that he had kept boxes full of those Polaroid photos rubber banded together. His landlord sent them to me. The photos showed two little girls sitting naked in a bathtub with a couple inches of water, looking up with scared wide eyes from the bright camera flashbulb.

I was always scared of Daddy, but the house was so little there was nowhere to hide. My life had become full of fear of Daddy, fear of the big dog in the backyard, and fear of the witch living outside the bathroom window. I hardly ever saw Mom. She seemed to be afraid of Daddy, and kept telling me not to let him hurt my sisters. Mom had to work. She left in the dark mornings and walked to work at the hospital. Daddy did not work, he didn't even get up in the morning darkness. Sometimes he drove a big, black car to pick Mom up from work, but usually she had to walk home, too.

When school started a half block from our house, we could hear the bells in the morning, noon and in the afternoon, at the end of the school day. As the days got cool, Daddy watched the grade school kids walk past our yard. One afternoon Daddy took me and Vickie out to the sidewalk before school was out. He told us to go play and stay quiet. Vickie wore only a diaper and short socks; I was lucky – I had a top and pair of pants with shoes. I had no idea what to do out there on the sidewalk.

The school bell rang down the street and kids started walking past us on the sidewalk. I tried to pick up Vickie, to go into the house and warm up. I couldn't get her up. Her diaper was frozen to the sidewalk. One of the school kids stopped to help me and between us, we started through the gate with Vickie. Daddy was looking out the big window, but he didn't help us, he just went into the bedroom. I told Mom about this, and I found out later that the kid who helped me told her mother, too.

It turned out that the neighbor lady had seen Daddy masturbating behind the big window as he watched school children going past the house. I later learned that my Mom started planning how to escape from him when she realized what was going on.

Every day when Mom got home from work, she had to cook dinner for Daddy. He usually sat in the living room, drinking and watching TV while waiting for his dinner. On hot summer nights, his brother, Mike, came by and they sat in the front yard drinking and waiting for dinner to be ready. Sometimes they drank a lot and shot out the street lights with Mike's gun. He was a policeman.

One night Mom cooked a chicken with dumplings and when it was time to eat, my Uncle Mike sat next to me and gobbled his dinner down. He told my Mom how good dinner was, but Daddy only complained that dinner was late. I poked at the food and ate a dumpling. Mike leaned in to me and asked if could he have my chicken if I wasn't going to eat it. “Don't tell your Mom that I ate your chicken!” I felt special because Uncle Mike teased me, and we had a secret.

Summer passed and one day Mom said that I was going to Kindergarten in the afternoons at the school, even though I was only four years old. I was scared. What was kindergarten? How would I take care of my sisters? I was the only one going to school, and I was only going for part of the day. When I started school, I took a small, braided rug to use during nap time. Over the years I used that rug when I was taking care of a new puppy, and I still have it.

When it snowed and got really cold, my Mom made me wear a really big, dark blue, puffy snow suit. I was barely able to get my arms to stay down, and it was hard to balance and stay on my feet. When I got to school all the kids were taking off their boots and coats. A little Black boy started pointing and laughing at me. I was embarrassed to be all puffed up, and all I could think to do was push him down. When I did that I accidentally poked him in the eye and he made a big fuss, wailing and crying. The teacher came over and asked what was going on. The boy kept on crying and pointing at me. I just stood there in my snow suit.

The teacher said I had to leave, go home until tomorrow. It was early afternoon, and nobody was in the school yard. I didn't want to go home early and have to tell Daddy why. I decided to walk around until the bell rang at the end of school. I walked up the alley behind our house, and back to the street. I walked on the sidewalk in front of the houses on our block, and was scared when a big dog lunged at the fence where I was walking. I went around and around, avoiding the mean dog, and finally the bell rang, and I joined all the kids walking home on the sidewalk.

Even though months had passed, I still didn't get to see Grandma or Grandpa again. Daddy was always grabbing me by the arm and shaking me. He was always warning me that if I didn't do what he said, the backyard dog would eat me, or the witch outside the bathroom window would kill me. There was no safe place. So far my life in that small house was fearful and exhausting. Suffice it to say, my life was never the same again.

THE MAN WE CALLED DADDY

EPISODE 5

If you've read about my life after the ranch and the beginning of my new life, then you know how miserable my life had become. It was quite a shock to me. I was suddenly threatened with a witch that would kill me, a dog that would eat me, and I was being jerked around by the arm by a man who made me call him “Daddy.” I don't want to sound pitiful – I never want to be pitied. It was what it was. My reaction to the situation was to become quiet and not draw attention to myself.

After poking the boy in the eye, I can't remember much of kindergarten, nor do I know much of what happened to the first grade. I remember my home life in bits and pieces. My grandparents came to visit a few times, but I was not allowed to go home to the ranch when they left. The house was so little that when they came to visit there weren't enough chairs in the living room or in the kitchen for everyone to sit together,

Mom and Grandma sat with us kids in the kitchen, with Jannie still in the crib most of the time. Mom worked around the kitchen getting dinner ready. Daddy and Grandpa sat in the living room or in the front yard if the weather was nice. They would drink brown alcohol they called bourbon, or clear alcohol they called vodka. They argued almost constantly, over football games and the coaches and players, over politics and the President, and over anything. The later it got, the louder Grandpa and Daddy became. They sometimes hit each other, and one time Daddy threw a cement mixer across the backyard. They sometimes made so much noise that the police came and took them to jail, where they stayed until the next day.

Those days were not happy, but I remember being in the second grade, which was held in a small basement room with no windows. The teacher told us about Show-n-Tell, a time at the beginning of classes for students to stand in the front of the room and show things they had and tell the class about them. Some kids showed their new clothes or photos of their vacations, and I felt left out. I had no new clothes or photos of vacations, but I realized that I could tell the class about something that happened when I lived on the ranch.

I raised my hand the next day at Show-n-Tell and the teacher called me to the front. I told the class that I had lived on my Grandpa's ranch and helped him do chores. I said I had driven a big truck while Grandpa dropped hay off the back for the cattle to eat. The teacher stopped me as I was talking and proclaimed that I was lying, that my story wasn't true. She made me stand in the corner for telling lies. I was crushed and totally embarrassed, and I didn't understand what had just happened. After school I was still upset and when Mom got home, she asked me what was wrong. I told her, crying the whole time.

The next day Mom walked me to school. She went into the classroom with me and asked the teacher to go out to the hall with her. When they came back into the classroom, the teacher told the class that she had been wrong to make me stand in the corner, that my story was true, and she apologized to me in front of the whole class. Wow! I never thought my mother would stand up for me. She didn't hug me, in fact I can't remember her ever hugging me. But this made up for not getting hugs.

Later in the school year, in the same classroom, Mom showed up and talked to the teacher out in the hall again. Then Mom came to me and said it was time to go with her. She hurried me to the car where both my sisters waited. There were all our clothes, piled on the backseat and floor. Mom drove us to a house the neighbor lady, Anne, had moved to. We went in the house and down some stairs into a large room with a big sofa. Mom and Anne told us we would be sleeping in here. We would be eating with her kids in the kitchen. Again, Mom told me to take care of my sisters. I now know the word for how I felt then: I was flabbergasted!

The next day we met Anne’s four daughters. I recognized the girl who had helped me pick up Vickie and take her into the house one day. Now, in this kitchen, the same girl was feeding Jannie as she sat in a highchair. Her name was Julie. 

It was strange being in such a big house with stairs up to a hallway where there were bedrooms. The middle floor had the kitchen, a dining room, and a front room with couch and chairs and pictures on the walls. I later learned that the lower level where we slept was a “recreation” room. We settled in after a couple days, with Mom still going to work. She told us that Daddy might find us, and we were not to get in his car. She told us that we were now in hiding from Daddy and we wouldn't have to live with him ever again. That was a huge relief.

I finished the rest of second grade in a different school. Anne's daughters showed me how to get to the school and they walked with me for a couple days. The first day at that school I was really scared, The whole day was a blur, and I remember getting lost a lot going to and from that school. 

When I went to third grade, it was at a whole different school. This school had a courtyard, with doors that led into classrooms. I remember the day the President was killed. Teachers were walking on the sidewalks around the courtyard, many of them crying and hanging onto each other. I wasn't the only kid scared by the teachers’ behavior. There was an announcement that school was ending early, and we were sent home.

At some point while I was in the third grade we were required to have visits with Daddy. Mom explained that she had filed for divorce from Daddy, and he was trying to get us to live with him. The court had ordered that Daddy get visitations with me and my sisters. He would pick us up for church. I would sit up front with Daddy, and Vickie and Jannie sat squashed on one side of the backseat. At some point I noticed Daddy was moving a coat around in the backseat, and then he would ask us questions about our life with Mom. He would ask, 

“Do you love me? Wouldn't you girls like to live with me?” 

We only had to go with Daddy once a week, but after a while the court ordered that Daddy could have an overnight visit with us. Mom was really upset, and I could tell that she was scared. She kept telling me to watch out for my sisters, to make sure that Daddy didn't hurt them.

In the process of loading our overnight stuff into Daddy's car, I saw a reel to reel tape recorder under his coat in the back seat. I knew what it was because my Aunt Carol had a smaller version at her house. When we got to where Daddy was living, I saw a courtyard arrangement like the school had. He took us to one of the doors in the courtyard and it opened into his small apartment. 

I was in charge of getting Vickie and Jannie into their pajamas, and Daddy put them on the floor to sleep. I was to sleep on the couch, but I was scared to undress, so I went into the bathroom to change. I could barely sleep, as Daddy walked around looking at us more than once in the night. In the morning we went to church, then home from there. I told Mom about the tape recorder and the questions Daddy would ask us while it recorded our responses. Mom said he would probably try to use the recording in court.

There was so much going back then during our time in hiding, But I remember how nice Julie was to Jannie when she was feeding her. It was a happy feeling, and I held on to it. By the end of third grade, Mom told me I could call Daddy “Vic” because she finally got her divorce. We didn't have to see him anymore because of the judge's order. Finally we could relax and move on with our lives. He wasn't my dad in anyway. We moved out of Anne's house into a small house in the next town over.

We lived right across the alley from my Aunt Carol and Uncle Paul, where we met our four cousins. We were all close in ages. Aunt Carol took care of all of us all while Mom worked. We were poor, so much that a man my Mom knew brought us food that had been thrown out behind a grocery store; we got food from a government program for women and children as well. 

A government truck parked in the Post Office parking lot once a month. We would go get big cans of peanut butter, cartons of powdered milk, big chunks of cheese in foil, and flour and sugar in bags. Later that summer Mom got a dog she named Greta. Greta was a German Shepherd Dog, and she protected the house and us.

We were finally safe and with a dog that loved us. We were poor for the rest of our childhood, but we were clean and wore clean clothes when we went to school. The best part was that Vic was no longer in our lives.

EPILOUGE

Shortly after we moved to the house beside Aunt Carol’s and Uncle Paul's house, Paul discovered that Carol was drunk all the time and was messing around with the disc jockey at a local radio station. Paul took all the cousins away and moved with them to Centralia, Washington. Vic followed them to Washington after he realized he couldn't have any access to me and my sisters. Mom told us that she'd heard from Paul, and he told her that he had caught Vic spiking my 10 year old cousin's orange juice while they were out fishing. Paul beat Vic bloody.

Some 20 years later, while I was at work, I was called by a county Coroner of the State of Washington. They wanted me to sign some papers for the deceased. It was Vic. They got my number from Vic's brother Mike, who said he was in such poor health he couldn't cooperate with the coroner's office, but he did give them my contact details. Even though I was not a blood relation to Vic, I felt as if I was forced to cooperate in an effort to protect my sisters. 

I went quickly through all the hoops with great anger, albeit short lived. Then Vic's landlord called me to get me to sign permission for him to access Vic's safe deposit box at the local bank. He also disclosed that Vic had several hundred dollars in his trailer. The landlord needed back rent and money to have the trailer hauled off. I asked what was the costs and the amount was very reasonable. So we agreed he would keep a certain amount, and send me the rest, which he did. After I got the money, I sent half to both sisters.

After dealing with the coroner’s office and settling with Vic’s landlord, I got a phone call, at work again. A reporter wanted to interview me for a story about Vic. They wished to write a human interest story about “a poor old man and his dog dying together.” I declined to be interviewed for such a story, saying that Vic was not a good man. 

Then the landlord called me again, this time at home. He wanted to tell me what was in Vic’s safe deposit box. The landlord seemed amazed yet disappointed when he said the only thing in there were papers from an Arizona prison, releasing Vic after time-served for pedophilia.

There I was again, shielding my sisters from Vic. Mom had instilled in me that I had to take care of my sisters, and she had also managed to scare Vickie and Jannie into never having anything to do with Vic. Mom was scared of many things. After she remarried, I was the sister who had to go down the stairs into a root cellar because of Mom's fear that there would be spiders or snakes.

I did not live my life in fear, even when Mom and my stepfather kicked me out of the house on my 18th birthday. They said they couldn't afford to help pay for college. They couldn't afford to spend money on my food or on gas for my car. I made my way, working for $0.95 an hour at Kmart. And I promised myself I would never be like my mother. 

I'm not as fearful of the unknown and I've made some mistakes, but I retired on disability in 2007 after a career of 30 years. I'm not poor because I have made my way by meeting challenges head on. And I have been sober for 21 continuous years.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to especially thank Stacey, my friend and CEO of ONE BIG TENT. If not for her encouragement, these stories about my childhood may have never been written. The AA way of life also asks us to share our experiences—that others might be inclined to try our way and find recovery. 

I never dreamed I would write my story, let alone have it published on a website for all to see. Stacey motivated me to publish with her enthusiasm about my tales of life growing up in Wyoming. She created a special “Creative Corners” on the ONE BIG TENT website for people in recovery to express their artistic talents.

I remembered how wonderful it was to be spoiled with love and hugs by my grandparents on the ranch. I often smile when recollecting those times; and seeing Stacey smiling back gave me the courage to literally put pen to paper to write this account in 5 installments. 

As Stacey kept urging me to write down more stories, I sometimes felt the pressure of having to commit. Yet with every tale I completed, Stacey’s smile just kept getting bigger. I began to realize that the telling of my story was bringing joy and laughter into our world. And my sharing it could bring to others joy and laughter in their lives as well.  She helped me see how my experiences can be of benefit to others.

My deepest gratitude to Stacey for her unwavering support throughout this endeavor. I hope this Tale of an Unknown Alcoholic brings as much joy to you as it has been for me to create it. May we enjoy life through the caring for others.

Anonymous 

Artwork by Celia S.

the end