LIFE SUCKS BETTER CLEAN

Senior Senility Prayer

2006-09-01T10:58:00.000-04:00

Grant me the senility to forget the people I

never liked, the good fortune to run into

the ones I do and the eyesight to know the

difference.

HOLIDAY BLUES: Your Option

2005-12-14T12:47:00.000-05:00

So, we did the world this big favor, stopped using alcohol and other drugs, holiday time is coming up, and twin dreads begin camping out in our guts. Holiday time is still using time for much of the human race, and those temptations will be all around us. In fact, that was how we used to spend holidays. Now there are more important priorities—at least, they seem more important right now: staying clean, recovery. The closer we move to that second dread, though, the priorities might change. The second dread is being alone, lonely.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
By the time we get a taste of recovery, many of us have used up friends, family, and even acquaintances. Most of our new friends in the program walked the same nightmare we did and never learned how to make real friends or become a real member of a family either. Smack in the middle of holiday joy and festivities and are we going to sit there alone, no drugs, no friends, no family, no fun, nothing to do but wallow in how much things suck and that things shouldn’t have turned out the way they did?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
No one had a choice in getting the disease, but everyone in recovery has a choice about what he or she will do with it. Here’s the choice: (a) Sit on the pity pot and risk using, or (b) Make plans.

What plans? In rebuilding your life, the first relationship you need to repair is between you and your HP. The next relationship is the one between you and yourself. Ask your HP about plans. Pick meetings to go to, and maybe bring a little something for everyone. Visit your sponsor, take yourself to a movie, pick some programs to watch on TV, take a hike in the snow if you have any, buy some dye and tie-dye a tee-shirt red and green, decorate your place—home, apartment, rehab room, jail cell, cardboard box, whatever. You’re not a Christian? No matter. It’s a time to be happy, to show others how much you care for them, to wish the best for everyone we know, which includes ourselves.

** *** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** ***

Happy, joyous, and free. That’s the promise of the program, and the holiday season is just as good a time to begin as any. Better, actually. Most folks feel obliged to cooperate.

Misery is optional. Choose happiness. Who knows? You might learn how to be happy the rest of the year.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Revenge or Justice

2005-12-13T08:34:00.000-05:00

“If you can’t beat them, arrange to have them beaten.” —George Carlin

At this holiday season, with the ideals of freedom, peace on earth, and spiritual salvation filling the air, the recovering addict’s thoughts naturally turn toward revenge. We all know about the big setup: Get miserable enough and you’ll go back to the potions and powders. Resentment is a great misery producer but it pales next to the heaps of sorrow revenge can bring. Revenge is resentment put into action. It’s like putting hell into powder form and snorting it.

“But terrible things were done to me! Justice demands that I get some of mine back.”

—Oops. That “justice” word came up as though it was interchangeable with the word “revenge.” You can poke around through dictionary definitions to try and find the difference between the two, but there isn’t anything there you can’t bend to fit whatever it is you want to do. Still, “justice” is good and “revenge” is bad. Why? I ran across a quotation that cleared it up for me:

“An act of justice closes the book on a misdeed; an act of vengeance writes one of its own.” —Marilyn vos Savant

So, after you’ve done what you can regarding your injury through the law, therapy, and modification of relationships, what do you do with the rest of this mountain of anger and pain? You do what you need to do to let go: Sponsor, meeting, steps, HP, and a thing called forgiveness. Remember: forgiveness is not letting someone else off the hook. Forgiveness is putting down the weight of resentment.

The Return of Life Sucks!!! Resentments ----

2005-12-11T11:40:00.000-05:00

Hello again, and I apologize for how long it's taken me to get up a posting. What I've been doing is exploring the underside of recovery from several surgeries (Back, Knee, Heart, Heart Again, and Heart One More Effing Time!) along with infection, physical therapy, and trying to sort out the medications that actually help me from those that make me feel like crap and those that promise to send me back down into that special little hell of addiction. I don't want to jinx it, but right now I feel terrific. I even plan on skiing this year, and Dopes On Slopes, NA ski weekend, is at Sunday River, Maine January 27-29 2006. If you ride snow and show, look me up.

Today's thought is on resentment, a matter upon which I've had much experience the past couple of years:

It seems a recovering addict named Ralph developed a resentment at a particular NA meeting and stormed out of the meeting into the night. After a few days his fellow group members wondered what had happened to him. It was almost as though he had disappeared. They hired a private investigator to track him down, and in a few weeks they had the PI's report.

It turned out Ralph had left the meeting, went to the marina, got in his sailboat, and headed out to sea. It had taken some time, but the PI managed to locate the uninhabited desert island upon which Ralph had been stranded. The investigator couldn't bring Ralph back himself, but he gave the group instructions on how to reach the island. The group rented a boat and made sail, hoping that this experience had gotten through to Ralph about his resentments.

When they reached the island they found that not only was Ralph still alive, he had built a fine house to live in. With pride Ralph showed them the house's root cellar, porch, and garden. There was another structure they could see from Ralph's window and they asked him what it was."

"That's a church I built. I go to my NA meeting there."

Several of the members frowned, wondering how Ralph could have a meeting by himself, when one of the group looked out of another window and saw another structure. "What's that?" he asked Ralph.

Ralph scowled angrily and answered, "Oh, that's the meeting I used to go to."

*****

Remember, resenting someone is like taking a hammer, hitting yourself in the head, and saying, "Take that, you bastard!"

Decision Time, Folks

2004-10-26T08:30:00.000-04:00

I have looked and looked, but no matter where or when I look I cannot find more than twenty-four hours in a day. When one finds oneself with thirty hours of stuff to do per day and only a twenty-four hour day in which to do it, something's gotta go. Thanks to my open heart surgery, which led to another surgery, which resulted in an infection, etc., etc., much time is being burned in the rest, recovery, and rehabilitation processes. There is that other thing from which I need to continue my recovery, which also takes time. On top of those are the third mystery in the Torio series I'm in the midst of researching and writing, and there are those taking my online writing course, The Write Stuff, who are beginning to wonder where part four is.

On top of all of that, there is this blog. If there are those of you who would like to see this feature continue, you must let me know. Put in a comment or Email me. If there are enough of you getting something beneficial from this blog, then something else will have to go. If, however, I am pretty much doing this for my own amusement, then it is history. Act soon. Decision time is nigh.

Barry B. Longyear

Email

The Recovery House Rules

2004-10-20T10:49:00.000-04:00

Perhaps memory has grown dim with age, but I seem to recall a time when persons could disagree with each other without being believed to be and labeled "traitors," "morons," "extremist nuts," or "evil." Perhaps it was another age, perhaps I don't remember clearly, perhaps I simply hung out with a more tolerant crowd. In any event, it seemed that way. Politics, religion, whatever—so-and-so believed what he believed, and Whatshisface believed what he believed. Sometimes it led to spirited arguments, sometimes it led to fights and long, grumpy periods of silence. On rare occasion, it even led to enlightenment. In the end, however, family and friendship usually won out over opinion and the need to win..

Now, however, if you root for that team, worship God by that name, insist on voting for that candidate, or voting for that proposition, you are—at the very least—ignorant, ill informed, confused, and influenced by the dark side. At the worst, however, you are stupid, evil, and may even be the Great Satan himself! This all leaves little room for later kissing and making up.

So, what does all this have to do with recovery?

Among those in Twelve Step programs, there are, at times, disagreements about how things ought to be done. These things include service work, the conduct of meetings, working the Twelve Steps, sponsorship, complying with the Traditions, and other matters ranging from the trivial to the significant. There are tools provided by the program for handling these disagreements, the main tool being the first part of the Second Tradition: "For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority—A loving god as he may express himself in our group conscience." In other words, if there is a disagreement, we vote on it. This works really great as long as we all agree to abide by the group conscience. For some, however, the Second Tradition is sacred as long as the decisions go their way. When the group conscience goes against what they want, however, it is obviously wrong and must be countermanded through other means.

One of these "other means," is to employ the same attitudes used in the world of disagreement outside the program. In other words, if the group conscience goes against what I want, then those voting "the wrong way" are obviously "evil, non-program, brainless, sick, and harbingers of the total destruction of the universe of recovery." This frequently is all the permission some folks need to employ means outside the Second Tradition to correct the error. Over the past couple of decades, I have seen many examples: Purposefully disrupting meetings disapproved of by the disruptors, character assassination, organized gossip, and "missionaries" who show up regularly at meetings to lecture the members at the meeting on how they ought to be running their meetings and their individual programs.

The results of all of this enthusiasm: Shut down meetings, disintegrating service structures, and old-timers and newcomers alike chased away from the meetings.
Here are some things I was told when I was brand new in recovery:

· It's an individual program. From everything you hear and witness in and outside the meetings, you have to piece together what's going to work for you.
· The First Tradition says that our personal recovery depends upon program unity—not uniformity.
· The sickest person in the room is the one who is focused on someone else's program.
· Addiction is slavery. Recovery is freedom—not exchanging one slave master for another.
· When you sit down, shut up, and listen, don't forget to shut up and listen.

Old-timer or newcomer, don't let control freaks and other well-meaning assholes chase you away from the meetings. Trust the Traditions. Call a business meeting, have a group conscience, vote on it, abide by the results, and everything will work out just the way it's supposed to.

Barry B. Longyear

You don't get harmony when everybody sings the same note. —Doug Floyd

Recovery or What?

2004-10-18T10:09:00.000-04:00

"Man, I want to get clean, but what you people call recovery is just a bunch of losers sitting in a circle tossing platitudes at each other."

In different words, and in those same words, we've heard it countless times: I need a different way to live, but not that way. I mean, can you see me sitting in a meeting and . . . "sharing" my little story with a bunch of burnouts? And how many of these sessions would I have to attend? They're talking about ninety meetings in ninety days! I have a life. I can't fritter it away going to meetings. Besides, what if the people I work with find out about me going? It could affect my career.

So. What's your alternative? If you don't pick up, and if you do go to meetings (NA, AA, etc.) you're going to get and stay clean. There are countless gifts you'll receive upon cleaning up, but getting clean is the recovery thing. If you look for that easier softer way, though, such as moving from counselor to shrink, acupuncture to aroma therapy, while at the same time collecting prescriptions and continuing to bounce from one chemical to another, the one thing you won't be is clean. No clean, no recovery. Sorry. I don't make the rules, reality does. I am simply your humble reporter.

Well, what about all those moth-eaten slogans, old jokes, and boring drugalogs?
Hey, we appreciate well-done new material. Bring yours. By the way, there's another name for all those moth-eaten program slogans and old jokes: they're called "wisdom."

Barry B. Longyear

"When you have no one in your life who you can call and say, 'I'm scared,' then your life is uninteresting, unfulfilling, superficial. You need somebody you can trust enough to say, 'I need help.'" —Steven Soderbergh

What Are You Willing To Do?

2004-10-15T10:51:00.000-04:00

Getting clean seems like a great idea up until it comes to putting down the drug. If you've tried it before, you know the universe is about to transform itself into a place where all life's problems can be solved—the important ones anyway—by picking up that drug just one more time. Pain, fear, anxiety, that clawing never-ending need, how much more important it becomes to end all that than that silly little goal of getting clean. Then, trashed once again, new crimes added to the old, overwhelming sickness driving you down, you may say again, "I gotta stop doing this." Perhaps you've said it so often by now, though, you've replaced it with, "I can't do it. It cannot be done. Why try?"

Sound familiar? Yeah, it's all well and good to hand out advice on getting clean, but we're talking about taking on a monster that doesn't know anything but how to hurt you if you don't keep feeding him his stuff. I've tried it before. I've tried it a lot of times. I can't do it.

What is being "ready?" Everyone I know who made it into recovery and stayed there was ready for recovery. When someone goes out again (relapses), odds are you'll hear someone say: "I guess he wasn't ready." So, what is "ready?"

Addiction is a disease of stages. Stage one is the yum-yum stage. Drugs are new, they're fun, they feel good, they seem to answer some very deep needs, and they come with a lot of friends and parties. Stage two is the pain collecting stage. Drugs have become a clawing need, it's all you can do to keep away the pain, all of those deep needs have multiplied, and no one wants to see you unless you come with either money or drugs. Physical problems, mental problems, relationship problems, legal problems—they stack up higher and higher until one of two things happens: Either death through suicide, murder, or physical collapse, or; The next stage: You become ready for recovery.

You are ready for recovery when you become willing to go to any lengths to recover. Willing to go to any lengths to recover.

Well, what does that mean?

If that's the question you're asking, you're not ready. Go collect more pain.

If the question you're asking is, "Okay, I'm ready to try anything. What do I do?" you might be ready.

Any lengths, right?

Try this: Pick whatever higher power you want—one off the rack, a mountain, a teddy bear, a crystal, a painted volleyball, whatever—and say to it, "I don't know what to do. Please help me."

Well . . . what then?

That's between you and the powers of the universe. Once you've collected enough pain, are ready to recover, and ask your higher power for help, miraculous things begin happening. You might hear an ad on TV, run across an NA help line number, someone mentions a particular rehab, someone else might invite you to a meeting. It can be many things, but it all comes down to the universe putting answers into your life. There is a lot of help out there for those who are ready for recovery. To see it, all you have to do is ask for it.

But, I don't believe in this crap!

That's okay. You don't have to believe in a higher power. All you need to do is use it. And when you get your answers, keep in mind that they are not suggestions or guidelines.

Barry B. Longyear

PS. No, the entry above is not a load of laughs. After my open-heart surgery two weeks ago, I had a rough night last night and was feeling good and sick today. It reminded me of another time when I was good and sick, up to my ears in pain, and was driven to ask a higher power for help. In my case, however, the HP I asked was some faceless creature at the nurses station in rehab almost twenty-three years ago. I said to her, "You know, I feel terrible." That was the best I could do at the time in asking for help. I got the help I needed and have been clean ever since.

Meeting Addiction

2004-10-15T09:07:00.000-04:00

"I don't want to make a regular thing out of going to NA meetings. What If I become addicted to them?"

Becoming addicted to meetings is not a big risk, unless you are one peculiar addict. If, in your addiction to drugs you frequently found yourself saying, "You know, I don't think I need a drug tonight," you may well have a meeting addiction problem. The solution, of course, is: don't use, go to meetings, and ask for help.

Barry B. Longyear

The Way To Go

2004-10-13T07:52:00.000-04:00

Any retreat can be turned into an advance simply by changing direction. —Anonymous

Barry B. Longyear

What's Important?

2004-10-10T14:34:00.000-04:00

Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are. —Malcolm S. Forbes

Barry B. Longyear

Character

2004-10-08T13:15:00.000-04:00

Moral excellence comes about as a result of habit. We become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by doing brave acts. —Aristotle

Barry B. Longyear

Things Are Not Always As They Appear

2004-10-07T08:21:00.000-04:00

The Parable of the Sparrow.

Once upon a time there was a little sparrow who delayed his trip south for the winter so long that when he finally left he ran into an ice storm. Frozen and almost dead from exhaustion, he fell to earth in a barnyard. As the sparrow was breathing its last, a cow walked over and evacuated its bowels over the tiny bird.

“This is a terrible way to die,” thought the bird, but as the heat from the manure seeped into the bird’s bones, it warmed him and life began to return to its body.

The sparrow was so happy at being warm and alive, it began to sing. At that moment a large cat heard the singing, dug into the cow pie, uncovered the bird, and ate it.

This story has three morals:
1) Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
2) Not everyone who takes shit off you is a friend; and
3) When you are happy, even if you are in shit up to your eyeballs, keep your damned mouth shut.

Barry B. Longyear

If You Want To Hear God Laugh . . .

2004-10-06T10:06:00.000-04:00

[I'm back! This is the first new blog I've had a chance to write since my open heart surgery September 23rd. Many thanks to the mysterious Regina, who, on top of everything else (which included a three-hour round trip to the hospital every day) managed to pull something from my notes to post here each day. I am a long way from being back to work, but I wanted to get today's blog out because I have some good news which I'd like to share.]

If you want to hear God laugh, make a plan

There were two things: The Prayer and the Plan.

First, the plan: There's an NA retreat (the Miracle) I go to every year because it's an important part of my recovery, I love the friends I have there, hence I always look forward to attending. Friday Sept. 17th, I put my plan in motion, arrived at the Miracle, and had a fun, very important opening day. Then came Saturday.

Midmorning Saturday, I was attending a meeting when I realized that I had forgotten something up in my room. I left the meeting, got about three quarters of the way up the stairs and, to my dismay, ran out of air. I was out of breath, told a couple of friends, and they sat with me while I tried to make up my mind what to do. A half hour or so later, I still hadn't gotten back my breath, so I asked my friends to take me to the Maine Medical Center in Portland, which was nearby. My Plan had a hitch in it. "Why now?" I asked HP.

The Prayer: For many years I have been plagued with intermittent bouts of profound weakness and fatigue that doctors simply couldn't diagnose. The weakness was so profound that, at times, I literally could not get out of bed, much less work or otherwise function. These bouts were so abrupt and unpredictable that in the middle of a ski run the fatigue would hit and the next thing I knew I'd be doing turns on my face. These bouts were so frustrating that anger and bitterness eventually evolved into tears. I had been tested and treated for everything and nothing worked.

On the morning of the 17th of September last, I was in the middle of a mild version of this affliction. I was taking our dog, Ti, out for his morning bladder gladdening. Ti wanted to go up our road, which begins with a bit of an uphill grade. I couldn't make it up the hill. Again I broke down in helpless frustration, but I also prayed to my particular HP for an answer.

The answer, it turned out was multiple blockages in a heart that was running at about 20% efficiency. Personally, I think 24 hour service is pretty good. But, as I was being carted off to the hospital by my friends, I had asked why that particular day, which was right in the middle of a retreat I had so looked forward to attending. The answer came to me several medical tests and operations later: At that particular moment I had been close to the Maine Medical Center, which includes one of the two best cardiac units in the United States.

Right now I am more weak and tired than I have ever been in my life, but I now have hope that once I regain my health, health is what I will have.

So, you don't believe in prayer? Well, personally, I'm having a tough time calling this crap coincidence. It doesn't matter. As an old-timer in the program once said to me, "You don't have to believe in this shit for it to work for you. All you have to do is do it."

Thinking of getting clean? Having a tough time humping your stuff through Step Four? You're up against it, you're all out of answers, and you don't know what to do? There are answers out there and they are patiently waiting for you to ask for them. And, no, you don't have to believe in the power or the process.

Prayer is like electricity. You don't have to understand or believe in electricity for it to work for you. All you have to do is turn on the switch.

Barry B. Longyear

CHANGE

2004-10-05T11:28:00.000-04:00

God changes not what is in a people, until they change what is in themselves. —The Koran

Barry B. Longyear

A CRY FOR HELP

2004-10-04T08:18:00.000-04:00

An elderly lady phoned her telephone company to report that her telephone failed to ring when her friends called - and that on the few occasions when it did ring, her pet dog always moaned right before the phone rang.
The telephone repairman proceeded to the scene, curious to see this psychic dog or senile elderly lady. He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and dialed the subscriber's house. The phone didn't ring right away, but then the dog moaned loudly and the telephone began to ring.
Climbing down from the pole, the telephone repairman found: 1. The dog was tied to the telephone system's ground wire via a steel chain and collar. 2. The wire connection to the ground rod was loose. 3. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current when the phone number was called. 4. After a couple of such jolts, the dog would start moaning and then urinate on himself and the ground. 5. The wet ground would complete the circuit, thus causing the phone to ring. Which demonstrates that some problems CAN be fixed by pissing and moaning.

Barry B. Longyear

FOCUS

2004-10-03T08:05:00.000-04:00

Don't let pain pick the kind of day you're going to have.

Don’t let fear, disappointment, sadness, or depression pick the kind of day you're going to have. You pick the kind of day you're going to have.

Barry B. Longyear

WISDOM

2004-10-02T11:37:00.000-04:00

From the earliest times the old have rubbed it into the young that they are wiser than they, and before the young had discovered what nonsense this was they were old too, and it profited them to carry on the imposture. --W. Somerset Maugham

Barry B. Longyear

FEAR

2004-10-01T13:16:00.000-04:00

Do I choose to grow up and relate to life directly or do I choose to live and die in fear? —Pema Chodron in The Places That Scare You.

I’ve always been afraid of angry people. I used to think that it was their fault, and it was up to the angry people to change, thereby relieving me of my fear.

The fear is mine, however, and that makes dealing with it my responsibility. Short of actual physical threats, which I can either handle or avoid, the rest is me allowing the past to vibrate my present, bringing old fear to life.

My choices are to attack, defend, or offer love by asking, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Barry B. Longyear

A CRY FOR HELP

2004-09-30T06:57:00.000-04:00

A drunk staggered into a cathedral, reeled down the aisle, looked around bleary-eyed for a moment, and at last stumbled into a confessional and closed the door.

“This is certainly a cry for help,” said newly ordained Father Mortimer to himself after observing the poor fellow's behavior. Father Mortimer entered his side of the confessional, sat down, and waited for the man to speak. Time passed, the unfortunate fellow said nothing, but Father Mortimer waited to answer the cry for help.

After a very long silence, Father Mortimer finally asked, “May I help you, my son?”

“I dunno,” said the fellow on the other side of the screen. “Got any toilet paper on your side?”

Barry B. Longyear

HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?

2004-09-29T07:34:00.000-04:00

When the newcomer got clean, she found herself in serious financial trouble. Her business had gone bust and she was in dire financial straits. She was so desperate that she decided to go straight to her higher power for help. She prayed, “God, please help me. I've lost my business and if I don't get some money, I'm going to lose my home and car as well. Please let me win the lottery.”

The night of the drawing came, she held her breath waiting for the announcement, and, sad to tell, someone else was the winner. The next morning the bank foreclosed on her home.

Disappointed and thinking that she hadn’t prayed hard enough, she prayed again, this time getting down on her knees in the snow. “God, please let me win the lottery! I've lost my business, my home, and I'm going to lose my car as well.”

The night of the next drawing came, she held her breath and crossed her fingers waiting for the announcement, and, sad to tell, someone else was the winner. The next morning the repo man came and took her car.

Heartbroken, she prayed again, this time lying prostrate on the ice. “My God, my god, why have you forsaken me? I have lost my business, my house, and my car. My children will starve next. My sponsor told me to pray to you for the things I need, and I really need to win the lottery so I can get my life back in order. Please, please, please, please, please let me win the lottery!”

A bright light appeared over her, the heavens opened, and the voice of God boomed at her from the sky: “Now, work with me on this, sweetheart. Okay? First, buy a ticket.”

St. Francis of Assisi was showing someone his garden, and the man was very impressed. “Your garden is beautiful and so productive,” said the man. “You must have prayed very hard to get it like this.”
“Yes,” said Francis, “and every time I prayed I picked up a hoe.”
BARRY B. LONGYEAR

FORGIVENESS

2004-09-27T09:52:00.000-04:00

I can see how everyone else can be forgiven, but not me. So, What makes you so special?

Line from a song: " Lord forgive them and blow them away."

We pardon to the extent that we love. ---Francois, Duc de La Rochefoucauld

Barry B. Longyear

FOCUS

2004-09-23T15:19:00.000-04:00

If you look into an asshole long enough, sooner or later you're going to get an eyeful of something that won't make you happy. Anonymous

Barry B. Longyear

Barry is having heart by-pass surgery today.

Regina b. Longyear

HOT AIR

2004-09-22T08:10:00.000-04:00

A man was traveling in a hot air balloon and had become completely lost. He spied a man walking way down below, so he lowered the balloon within calling range.

“Excuse me,” he called out, “I promised a friend I would meet him a half hour from now and I have no idea where I am. Can you help me out?”

The man on the ground said, “Certainly. You are in a hot air balloon about 30 feet above the ground. You're at longitude 70 degrees west and latitude 30 degrees north.”

The man in the balloon thought on it a moment and said, “You have got to be a sponsor.”

The man on the ground said, “As a matter of fact I am a sponsor, but how did you know?”

The man in the balloon said, “Everything you've told me is technically correct, but I have no idea what to do with the information and, frankly, I'm still lost.”

The man on the ground nodded and said, “You must be a sponsee.”

The man in the balloon said , “As a matter of fact, I am a sponsee, but how did you know?”

The man on the ground said, “You have no idea where you are, you have no idea where you're going. You've made a promise you have no idea how to keep. You expect me to solve your problem for you and even though you are in the exact same position you were in before we met, it's now somehow become my fault.”

Nothing is as frustrating as arguing with someone who knows what he's talking about. —Sam Ewing

Barry B. Longyear

Barry is still in the hospital. He will be having heart by-pass surgery the 23rd.
Regina B. Longyear

THE OLD TIMER FROM MASSACHUSETTS

2004-09-21T07:43:00.000-04:00

After thirty years clean, Bill the program old-timer died, and because of a clerical error, he was sent to Hell. The Great Satan met him at the gate and said, “Bill, this is the world of hurt, terror, destruction, and endless pain.”

“Golly,” said the addict from Massachusetts as he hugged the Devil, “I can’t tell you how glad it makes me to meet someone new, and thanks for greeting me. It reminds me of my old home group back in Boston when I was the greeter. Those were wonderful times, and thank you for reminding me of them.”

Satan staggered back, grabbed his chief demon by the arm and said, “This one we have to crush. Put him on the rock pile.”

The demon put Bill to work on an enormous pile of granite boulders making little ones out of big ones with a twenty pound sledge hammer in intense heat and high humidity. At the end of the day the Devil went to see how the addict from Massachusetts was doing only to find Bill smiling and humming a happy tune as he pounded the rocks.

“Why are you smiling and humming?” the Devil asked Bill.

“Man, I’m psyched! This reminds me so much of when the recovering addicts in my beloved Boston home group got together to help clear some land out there in Gloucester, Massachusetts for a program weekend campout of fellowship, sharing, and beans. It was such a terrific time, and I’m really grateful to you for reminding me of it.” Then Bill hugged the Devil.

“Do not do that ever again,” commanded Satan pulling himself free from Bill’s hug. The Prince of Darkness turned to his demon, grabbed him by his shoulder, and said, “Turn up the heat and the humidity!”

The Devil left and the demon had all the condemned souls shovel coal on Hell’s fires until the walls glowed red, then he had more souls throw water on the rocks until the air was choking with blistering hot steam.

At the end of the next day, the Devil was stunned to find the addict from Massachusetts still swinging the sledge hammer, but now singing out loud a song of joy.

“I don’t understand,” said the Devil. “Why are you singing?”

The addict from Massachusetts wiped the perspiration from his brow, leaned on the hammer, and said, “You know how hot it is here? Well, it’s got nothing on that program campout in Gloucester. Now, that weekend was hot! This reminds me so much of that weekend, and I had such an incredibly good time, I can’t help being grateful for all the trouble you’re going to make me feel at home.”

The addict from Massachusetts reached out to hug the Devil, but was halted as the Evil One held up a clawed finger and said, “I told you not to do that.”

“Of course,” said Bill, “and I respect where you are.” He then went back to the rock pile, picked up the hammer, and continued smashing the boulders, his voice raised in song.

“Dude,” said the demon to Satan, “This not working.”

The Prince of Darkness grabbed the demon by the throat and said, “It’s the heat, you idiot! He thrives on heat. Make it cold. Suck every last little particle of warmth from my domain and cover it with ice.”

Upon being released, the demon put out all the fires of Hell, opened the windows, and turned on the liquid nitrogen spigots. The temperature dropped, the winds blew, and soon Hell was covered with ice.

At the end of the next day, smirking with confidence that the addict from Massachusetts would be miserable, the Devil went to the rock pile only to find Bill marching up and down the pile, dancing, singing even louder than he had before, and twirling the sledge hammer like a baton. The addict from Massachusetts saw the Devil, dropped the hammer, ran down the pile, and gave the Devil another great big hug along with a great big kiss.

“What are you doing?” screamed the Devil. “How can you possibly be happy now?”

“Are you nuts?” said Bill. “It’s a cold day in Hell! The Boston Red Sox must have taken the World Series!”

We do not see the world as it is, we see the world as we are.
—The Talmud

Barry B. Longyear

Barry is still in hospital.

Regina B. Longyear