Page 30 - The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

BILL’S STORY 9
come over. He was sober. It was years since I could re-
member his coming to New York in that condition. I
was amazed. Rumor had it that he had been commit-
ted for alcoholic insanity. I wondered how he had es-
caped. Of course he would have dinner, and then I
could drink openly with him. Unmindful of his wel-
fare, I thought only of recapturing the spirit of other
days. There was that time we had chartered an air-
plane to complete a jag! His coming was an oasis in
this dreary desert of futility. The very thing—an oasis!
Drinkers are like that.
The door opened and he stood there, fresh-skinned
and glowing. There was something about his eyes. He
was inexplicably different. What had happened?
I pushed a drink across the table. He refused it.
Disappointed but curious, I wondered what had got
into the fellow. He wasn’t himself.
“Come, what’s all this about?’’ I queried.
He looked straight at me. Simply, but smilingly, he
said, “I’ve got religion.’’
I was aghast. So that was it—last summer an alco-
holic crackpot; now, I suspected, a little cracked about
religion. He had that starry-eyed look. Yes, the old
boy was on fire all right. But bless his heart, let him
rant! Besides, my gin would last longer than his
preaching.
But he did no ranting. In a matter of fact way he
told how two men had appeared in court, persuading
the judge to suspend his commitment. They had told
of a simple religious idea and a practical program of
action. That was two months ago and the result was
self-evident. It worked!
He had come to pass his experience along to me—if