Rum Radio

My name is Joseph G. and I am a person in long term recovery and a refugee from several twelve step programs. My clean and sober date is Jan. 10, 1997, which impresses me because I am the least likely of men to have achieved this. I was born in Brooklyn, New York, and reared on Long Island. I was a drafted Vietnam combat veteran. I am a father of five, but two of my daughters have died from this deadly disease of addiction. I am a member of the honors society. I am also a banker and entrepreneur as I have made and lost several fortunes.

I have turned my hand to the benefit of my fellow man in a memorial for my fallen daughters and a healing for me and so, too, that others might be spared this unimaginable tragedy.

I run a radio show and a website that is all about sponsorship in recovery. I believe that the one immunity we have from alcohol and drugs is intensive work with another (alcoholic, drug addict, or whatever your favorite flavor of addiction may be). Please use the tools laid at your feet, and open your mouth and pass it on, and on, and on.

We are also members of “On and On” anonymous. And if you are afraid, we also cater to Paranoids Anonymous– the only problem is nobody will tell you where they hold the meetings. If you are a member of Narcoleptics Anonymous and have slept through your well-intentioned recovery, then consider this a wakeup call.

I have no professional certificates, no degree of professional standing and no letters after my name, but I have spent a night at a Holiday Inn Express.

 “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.” ~Mark Twain

I came to the rooms of a 12-step group because my wife had become unmanageable. She had insisted that I was an alcoholic; I insisted I was not– no way, no how. After an ongoing barrage of accusations, insinuations, and ever uglier threats, I relented and agreed to go to a therapist. You see, I was willing to go to any length to prove that I was not an alcoholic. After several months of therapy, the therapist suggested that I quit drinking alcohol for a year. I told him that was an absurd idea; I could stop drinking at any time, just not right now.

I relented. The closest group was in Dallas, Texas. I do not remember much of my first meeting, as if they were speaking in some foreign and cryptic tongue. I would arrive late and leave early. My mission was to prove that I was not an alcoholic and I was willing to go to any length to prove that I was not lesser than my fellow peers.

The divorce came down hard, like most do. My fortune, my business, my sanity, my health, and my freedom were all taken away in less than two weeks (a fortnight). My last drunk was on port wine. The TV evangelists were talking to me over the airways. I was going out to get good and ripped and was going to call a fellow I knew for company. My moment of clarity: I didn’t even like that guy’s company and because I had nothing left, the last to go was pride. I was finally beaten into a state of reasonableness. I searched for a meeting; the first meeting I found was strangely closed. I doubled back to the first group I attended; it was 6 o’clock p.m.— a “sundown” group. The meeting was just starting. I had the overwhelming sense that I was right where I was supposed to be. I shared through the choking tears and stammered out, “my name is Joe and I am an a- a- alcoholic.” I could barely breathe in the moment, yet I was given hope.

My first order of business was to find a sponsor. I was told to find a sponsor that had something I wanted. Since my fortune was gone, I wanted someone with a 500 SEL Mercedes Benz. Once the pain subsided, pride was not far behind. I had met a fellow named Bob. He was friendly and kind toward me even when I was first determined to prove that the twelve steps had nothing to offer me. Bob was a dentist at one time and had lost his professional credentials because of drug and alcohol abuse (that was surely a hard hit.) When I met him, Bob had a window cleaning business.

Alas, there was no Benz, but when I thought of an ideal sponsor, I was drawn to ask, “Where’s Bob?” I was then told that he had applied to the dental profession to work back in his field as an assistant, in a much lower capacity– and was still turned down. Instead of putting another drink of alcohol in his body, he went to Bachman Lake and put a bullet to his brain instead. That was my first experience with death in the twelve steps; unfortunately, it was not the last.

My soon-to-be ex explained that Dallas was too small for the two of us and suggested in the strongest possible way for me to move to Austin, Texas. I was attempting to get accommodations in Dallas but it seemed that all doors were closed. I had a business connection in Austin and always seemed to do well there.

I packed my VW bus in an ice storm and headed to Austin, chanting the mantra all the way, that God loves me and wants to see me happy. I connected quickly and had a small room and a place to start my business over again. First things first; I asked where I could find the closest 12-step meeting house. I contacted Intergroup and received directions.

The directions I received sounded a little bit like this: “If you go down this particular road and at the end of the road there is a little yellow house, you can’t miss it, it looks like a place where alcoholics would go.” It looked like an old crack house. It was smoke-filled and had a yellow shag carpet that had seen better days and I felt right at home. It was like a metaphor for where I was in life, except by that time, I had hope.

Like most of us in recovery, life happens on life’s terms. I have suffered the loss of two of my daughters to this deadly disease. I lost Juliann (my oldest) in 2001 at age 29 to an accidental overdose. I lost my youngest child, Christina in 2008 at age 22, again, to an accidental overdose. To help stop this tragedy from occurring to others, I have dedicated my time, talents, and treasure to increasing the tools that I have found useful in becoming the most effective sponsor that I can be. As sponsors, we have other people’s lives in our hands, people who are often suffering from this disease of mind, body and spirit. I do not take credit for this work; this is God’s and the fellowship.

When we are in the service of our fellow beings, are we not in the service of our God.

This is how my radio show began.

I ransacked my third edition of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous to find a title that had some cache and would be recognized by the recovery community. Alas, anything that was recognizable as a catch phrase was either being used or if not used had been taken. I perused the index and came across the story Rum, Radio and Rebellion. Viola: “Rum Radio.” It rang a bell it was easy to remember and it tripped on the tongue and most importantly, it was free for the taking. The web address was taken by a zombie internet radio station, but the .org and the .net was available for rent. The name is only a way to introduce the information and the content is what drives the beast. A good name for a worthy endeavor and easily remembered.

As the work on the site continued, I wanted to share the insights that I had obtained from Hamilton B’s book Twelve Step Sponsorship: How It Works. I had started an ongoing sponsorship workshop and step study at my home group in Houston, Texas, using that book.

The ongoing sponsorship workshop and step study meeting has generated a greater understanding of the importance of the process of recovery and the critical role of the sponsor. I have gained much more insights into this important function by chairing this ongoing meeting and by continuing to be a sponsor.

I was in a meeting close to my home and announced the ongoing sponsorship workshop and step study. Jimmy K., an old timer, was intrigued with the idea and encouraged me to start a website as a legacy in order to give back in the critical, often misunderstood, and under-utilized area of recovery sponsorship.

As the website was taking shape, my excitement grew. I knew this was a good work and I wanted to share this information with everyone in recovery. I was visiting friends in Austin, Texas, where I had lived for nine years. I went to quite a few different 12-step meetings to announce the website and give out copies of Clancy’s seven questions for high-bottom intellectuals, chronic relapsers, and newcomers.

One such meeting was at the primary purpose group. I met a man we called Blind Dave. He has memorized the Big Book from cover to cover and takes newcomers through all twelve steps in eight days. (God took only seven with a day off for good behavior.) During that meeting, I shared information about my website. It was greeted with approval.

One fellow asked me to attend a men’s meeting the following afternoon at noon. I was initially reluctant and told him that my plan was to leave tomorrow morning. He was persistent and promised me a “free lunch” if I got there early. Since there is no such thing as a “free lunch”, I tentatively agreed.

I did show up the next day. I found that the meeting format among this particular group uses a random opening from the Big Book, with a focus on the first 164 pages. They also limit shares to three minutes, enforced with an egg timer and with the understanding that if you speak more than three minutes it’s all about you. During lunch, I spoke to others about my website. I was tapped on the shoulder by the fellow who did that meeting’s random opening of the Big Book and showed me where it had opened, and low and behold it opened to Rum, Radio, and Rebellion (as they just happen to have a third edition of the Big Book).

I was able to share early in the meeting when they did a round robin. I told them why I was there and what had just happened. One fellow took exception and said it was agreed only the first 164 pages count; his argument was quickly dismissed and we moved on with an apologetic oops.

This was God doing for me; it was a mini miracle, a confirmation to the work. I have come to know that there are no coincidences and no accidents. As for me, I am a nothing and a nobody, but when I am in the service of my fellows, I am in the service of my God and that’s when I am strong in the Lord and the power of his might and in His hand I become the sharper tool.

See you on the radio.

-Joseph G.

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