Beyond Addiction

They were two men with not much in common except for their being born in Vermont in the late 1800s and the fact that by the time they met in Akron, Ohio, in 1935, neither could stop drinking until they talked about their problem.

On June 10, 1935, Dr. Bob Smith had his last drink, after a series of face-to-face conversations with Bill Wilson, another alcoholic, who himself had repeatedly struggled yet failed to remain sober. That Wilson and Smith ever met is proof, at least to people like me, that coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous. Yet whether it was a chance encounter or orchestrated from a power greater than themselves, Smith's interaction with Wilson was without question the defining moment in the history of alcoholism. This is the 74th anniversary of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Millions of people owe their lives to the 12 steps that begin with admitting powerlessness over alcohol or other drugs and end with personal responsibility to live free from selfishness, dishonesty, resentment and fear. That's not easy; after all, AA members are human, too. But the steps are mileposts that allow alcoholics to make life's up-and-down journey without mood- and mind-altering substances. "Life on life's terms" is a popular topic in AA meetings.

I've known many people over the years who were propelled into AA or to treatment out of desperation to stop the consequences. An arrest for drunken driving, a bad accident, the unraveling of a marriage and the loss of a job are always pretty potent motivators. Unfortunately, many of them did not keep coming back to meetings and were soon drunk or stoned again. What was hideous about their returning to drinking was that they always got worse, never better. Many ended up in prison or mental institutions or died.

And then there are some like David.

We talked for 10 minutes. "I've known both sides of the equation," David said, slurring his words but hardly in denial. "My problem is that I put a zero to the right of that equation, so no matter how much I multiply it, I always end up with a zero, and I can't get a day of recovery, not one. I've given up trying, to be honest with you."

David said that his wife left him years ago and that he barely talks to his daughter, who is now a college junior. He's had a couple of other failed relationships and has lost his law license, though he still manages to work as a researcher for a law firm. He looks much older than 60, but he is only 49.

As a public advocate working for a treatment facility, I always am being asked for help and try to help people in crisis. David didn't ask me for any. And for once, I didn't offer it, either, just a handshake and a reminder that there is an answer beyond zero.

One alcoholic named Bill Wilson plus one alcoholic named Bob Smith equals two alcoholics whose common experiences have added up over the decades to a couple of million people who know this simple answer, too.

William C. Moyers is the vice president of external affairs for the Hazelden Foundation and the author of "Broken," his best-selling memoirs. Please send your questions to William Moyers at William@WilliamMoyers.com. To find out more about William Moyers and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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