Out of respect for the people in this story, I am deliberately vague with the intimate details of their family's public corporate accomplishments and equally circumspect with their private suffering wrought by alcohol's relentless ravages. For their sake, I will call their alcoholic family member by the unisex name "Dana."

But I don't shy away from pinpointing the irony of the event they will soon host on behalf of a program that opens the door for people who have run out of other options to overcome addiction. At this fancy "celebration of recovery," the invitation touts an "open bar."

Chronic alcoholism has nearly killed "Dana" — more than once. I'm told Dana hasn't had a drink in about two weeks. With the event later in August, this means Dana will have a thin buffer of abstinence while surrounded by the tempting toxins spewing from the open bar. Multiple treatments over many years and plenty of reasons not to drink have never compelled this alcoholic to stay sober. I know the allure and angst of temptation. Surely, Dana will sense the tug of war at this party hosted by the family on behalf of recovery, which has eluded Dana for too long.

It isn't my purpose to call out this family or the organization whose name is on the invitation. Theirs is a dilemma sometimes shared by other addiction treatment facilities and families when there is a social occasion meant to raise money from the community at large. How to throw a party with good food, fine music and fun if "ardent spirits" aren't available? Even my own organization struggled with this issue, until we adopted a policy to exclude alcohol at any fundraiser except those in two big cities that draw donors from the larger community. There, red or white wine is served, only on request at the table during dinner. "The 'normies' expect it so must have it," proclaims one of our board members. "Puts them at ease, loosens their wallets, too." And she ought to know; she's a fabulously famous New York socialite who was notably infamous at fundraisers before she stopped drinking 20-plus years ago. Fortunately, she loves to give away her money sober just as much as she did under the influence.

But the event involving Dana's family feels different to me. Maybe it's the paradox of the invitation, which proudly proclaims the organization's mission ("to improve the quality of life for individuals, families and communities affected by alcohol and drug dependency") while making sure invitees know there is an open bar. Or maybe I just know too much about Dana's alcohol-fueled spiral to a point barely short of the only bottom of this illness — death. I remember a time when Dana came to my lecture on addiction and spirituality at a seminary in our community. Dana was yellow. And neither a bad liver nor what I had to say got Dana to stop. That was two years ago.

Maybe, though, I'm just frustratingly disappointed by the lost opportunity here. Dana's family members are respected not just for their financial success. They reinvest some of their wealth to bolster meaningful causes that help people who suffer from life's harshest challenges, including alcoholics and addicts who don't have the resources at Dana's disposal to keep trying to get well. Imagine the point they could have driven home if their invitation had told guests there would be "No Open Bar." Not just to the broader community of means and prominence who will be there but to the one person who needs to know that it is OK not to drink.

William Moyers is the vice president of public affairs and community relations for the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation and the author of "Broken," his best-selling memoirs. His book "Now What? An Insider's Guide to Addiction and Recovery" was published last year. Please send your questions to William Moyers at [email protected]. To find out more about William Moyers and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.