2001-06-17 - 16:08 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Anonymity

In the overall I guess, names mean but little. Just a hook to hang your own mental coat on. But yet, but yet, names can mean the world. It all depends on definition and viewpoint as well as circumstances.

In the early days of my yet continuing recovery from alcoholism it seemed that I sat near or right beside a man frequently. He is the man who taught me how to pronunce anonymity his way ... anno nim ity .. it was at his side I learned the need for such a thing. Which was reinforced by what I read in the Big Book.

He had an English accent, was medium height, slender and as ugly as I. He had a handle, which might or might not been one of his given names. Bruce it was. We often had conversation over coffee before the meeting started, and sometimes after. And our friendship was formed.

He would sit in the meeting and crochet some of the nicest pieces of handwork I have ever seen, with hands that looked as if they had once been half through a hammermill, it was amazing that he could turn our such beautiful crocheted things.

It was his acceptance of his lot in life that led me into thinking, deep thinking. Between Bruce and Lucas I began the long trek to sobriety. Lucas, who agreed later to become my sponsor, he was the man who asked me if I was ready to give up all the bullshit excuse/stories and start working on the steps. Bruce was my companion.

Prior to becoming a member in AA after my release from the center I moved into an apartment my son was vacating. It was in a one time Capitol Hill mansion which had been remodeled into apartments. Sort of a rough and ready place, suitable for a bachelor. I still had a job, so was able to pay the rent there, and I still had the creaky old van to make it back and forth to work, meetings etc.

I heard Bruce talking to somebody about moving out from where he was living, because the man in that apartment was marrying. Bruce had very little income, if any. Didn't have a green card - or whatever color it took to work in America and was a kind of black sheep of his family and wasn't wanted back in England. He also had MS, he exhausted quickly in the sunlight's heat.

By that time it was beginning to warm up outside and I timidly offered to let him sleep in the van at night. I had burned myself badly by becoming an addict and feared getting burnt the second time by another source. He, after all was an unknown quantity.

As our friendship grew as well as trust, I invited him to live in my apartment until he found a place to live elswhere.

We were a weird looking pair, his clothing was cast off stuff, mismatched much of the time -- but neat and clean. He turned out to be a better cook than I, and would cook up dinner for us to eat when I got up from my third shifter's rest in the day time. Sometimes it was also bacon and eggs when I got home too. He would go with me grocery shopping, and with his advice, gained from a spartan existence, helped us eat well for a very small amount. Geeminy, he swept, mopped, washed the dishes as well as being an intelligent companion.

He wasn't a housewife or my Mother, but gave back what he received in the ways he could.

In that old van we did the mountains nearby, including Central City and Blackhawk while they were still ghost towns. From Apex over the Forest Service road to the east portal of the Moffat Tunnel. Maybe I should say Forest Disservice road. It was the rockiest, bumpiest stretch of road and never improved one whit from year to year. But there was a grand view of the Back Range and a feeling of being in the wilderness for a short time.

We went to various AA meetings around the Denver Area including one in Idaho Springs and I became acquainted with many people in the same boat we occupied.

Brothers out of the bottle ? Something like that, brothers in trying to find our way back into respectable mankind anyway. We had a decent lifestyle between us and liked each other in spite of our idiosyncracies, of which I had many.

Because of him, Lucas my sponsor and a power higher than any human's I was able to go into recovery, without bitterness or sadness, looking at life realistically. Not all alcoholics are as lucky as I and yet overcome their addiction and go into recovery.

When my family saw that I was in recovery and seemed to be able to stay dry, I was invited to come back home. There was no room at home to accomodate another person, even though Heather knew and liked Bruce. I stayed at the apartment as long as I could until Bruce found another place to stay, and then I moved back home.

I still don't know his real name, nor where he went. Someone told me they heard he had got his green card and went to work somewhere. I haven't found him at any meetings I have attended. He might be out of the area, in another state maybe. I doubt if I will ever know. Where ever you are English Bruce -- I miss your companionship, and you have my undying thanks for being my friend when few would risk the effort.

When one loses contact with an alcoholic there is always the fear that they went out (drinking again). Yet maybe not, maybe the situation had changed for them due to work or family that their anonymity had to be maintained. I have since met a couple of people who were in AA with me, out in the world, in a business way. By our manner we let each other know that we remembered but never did we ruin anybodies anonymity. There are not many people who know my name as the anonymity bit is a part of me. I am sure that some smart cookie could find out who I am, where I live etc. I doubt if it is worth anyone's trouble though. I know who I am, and am a real person who choses to live parts of his life, thoughts and history on the net in a diary - - - - yet I still have Anonymity . . . . .

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