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dalin
02-20-2008, 05:06 PM
Chapter Three

TWO MEMBERS

Bo had been born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. He was born into a family of business people with the diversification of wealthy and not so wealthy relations. The mix was ideal to allow him to emerge with a capacity to look at a thing from many angles. This ability helped him understand, get along with and work directly with a broad cross section of people.

He dropped out of high school in the eleventh grade and spent a year living on the road in the middle sixties. He exposed himself to the intellectualism of the beatniks and the recreational use of drugs. He got bored with the wild life and returned to his family to finish high school and enter a local college.

A motorcycle accident cut short his education and his increasing use of drugs diminished the value of his learning. The death of friends slowed his usage to the point where he could ask himself some basic questions.

These questions led to his working for about two years in community nonprofit organizations in downtown Atlanta. Like similar areas around the country that sprang up during the Viet Nam War, the area was called 'The Strip'.

At the end of this period in his life, he first sought help in N.A. He had come across the name in a book called The Beats. Through local A.A., he was able to locate one copy of the N.A. White Booklet and held meetings for six weeks before giving up and sending the treasury to the WSO address listed on the inside the White Booklet.

Another three years of progressive addiction made him seek recovery on any terms he could get it. He felt himself getting older and sadder, not wiser and gladder, so he went to A.A. He had been drinking in a way that reminded him more and more of the other drugs that required needles.

The years on the Strip had made him suspicious of self aggrandizement and he worked quietly to achieve the recovery offered by A.A. A month after he began to attend regular A.A. meetings, a single meeting of N.A. had begun at a local hospital. It continued to meet every Friday night for the next twelve years.

Though he also attended meetings of A.A., he shared as an addict and his desire for recovery gained him membership among the alcoholics. Some of the old-timers kept asking him what had he done for 'his people'. Their question was lost on him until he considered the time he had spent on the Strip working among addicts of all types and degree of sickness and the special aliveness of that part of his life. He realized he was finding something similar but much better in the meetings of Narcotics Anonymous.

His early experience among the beatniks had exposed him to a professional world of writers, musicians and artists. He knew well books were not necessarily that hard to produce. The increased number of meetings and members in and around Atlanta, along with the East Coast in general, led him to attend the 1977 World Convention in San Francisco.

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

Greg had been born and raised in Los Angeles, California. He was raised by his mother who was working in special education. His early memories include a grandmother who died in the shower while under the effects of prescribed medication.

He attended California pop festivals, helped usher in and usher out the hippy movement and managed to attend UCLA and get a good job. He would get loaded on acid and go out to the hills of Topanga Canyon near Malibu and stare for hours at exposed fossils millions of years old.

In his using career, he had direct access to one of the great population centers for addicts of all types. In 1968 he married a lady named Lois. While very much in love and doing well at his work, his addiction was progressing to the point where he was ready to seek help. Unlike many of the early members, he came to the program in a business suit.

He immediately met every member of every known meeting in the world at the time and wound up on the N.A. Board of Trustees within a few years.

His extraordinary mind gave him the ability not only to see the need for a N.A. service structure but the ability to help get it started by writing and submitting what became the original service structure, the N.A. TREE. The structure allowed for a representative body, a primary service center and a board of trustees. While these service branches did not exist in 1975, they have evolved slowly into a dynamic reality.

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

When Greg and Bo met at San Francisco, a very special chemistry emerged setting in motion the process that led to the Basic Text. Greg had been working to get an effort for the Basic Text started for years along with all the other members of world services. Bo at the other end of the Fellowship spectrum had heard everyone talk about an N.A. book but couldn't find anyone who knew anything about actual work on it.

Greg talked Bo into spending part of the week following the World Convention as his house guest in North Hollywood. Bo didn't take much selling.

He called his wife and gave her Greg's phone number and they left the Jack Tar Hotel Sunday afternoon for the eight hour drive to L.A. Traveling with them was another member named Henry S. The small red four door Fiat was packed.

On the way to L.A., Henry asked Bo what made him think he was the 'one' to do the Basic Text. Bo closed his eyes a moment and said, "I'm surprised at your question. I am willing. I thought God does the work and all He needs is willing instruments. Isn't that right?" Henry let it go at that.

The N.A. talk went on for the entirety of the eight hour drive including the brief stop over at the famous pea soup restaurant at the half way point. One of the things nonmembers would find amazing about N.A. is the amount and range of our private discussion. The imaginations and curiosity of addicts seeking recovery is absolutely without limit.

Arriving in Los Angeles, they dropped Henry off and went to a beautiful little home set in a quiet residential section of North Hollywood. Both the interior and the yard contained beautiful plants and curios. Greg was a compulsive rock collector and had built his own display cases that he filled with beautiful specimens of rocks and minerals.

The next day, Greg took Bo to work with him. He supervised the production of polyurethane for a manufacturer whose main products sold to telephone companies. Bo could see the office where Greg wrote the N.A. Tree over a two year period starting five years earlier. It amazed him to think of such a great work developed in such a plain setting. At the end of the day, they went to the WSO.

The N.A. World Service Office was located in the home of N.A.'s most famous member, Jimmy K. Jimmy had attended the formative meeting of N.A. in July of 1953 and was continuously involved since then. He remains one of the few addicts whose name in known throughout the Fellowship. His primary contribution beyond being an active member was to the N.A. 'White Booklet' and the establishment of the WSO as a base for the Fellowship's communications and distribution center.

From 1971 to 1981, the WSO operated from a side room added on to Jimmy's house across from a small airport in Sun Valley, California. He took the mail from P.O. Box 622 that remained in service for almost twenty years under the N.A. name.

Besides answering the mail, Jimmy personally answered the phone twenty-four hours a day and came to know members from all over. In time, he became the repository of information for the growing Fellowship because he had direct personal contact with so many members. These members ranged from his fellow members of the N.A Board of Trustees to the newest member in the newest meeting who called seeking information and literature.

Bo was warmly welcomed. Although the recovery story he had sent in July couldn't be located, Jimmy gave him one of the treasured coffee cups from the original N.A. meetings in the sixties that moved from location to location weekly to avoid surveillance.

He and Greg went to the oldest continuously meeting group in the world located in a small church in San Fernando Valley. There were about forty members in attendance and the members shared in 'participation style'. This is where members take turns sharing what it was like, what happened and what it was like today.

Before he flew home Wednesday, Greg and Bo had a fateful talk. They had been discussing the Basic Text as a basic dream. How material could be collected. How warm, quick responses to incoming material would likely encourage members to send in more. How members might gather together in working groups of increasing sizes to evaluate and compose the material, depersonalizing and tuning the work into the spoken tradition of N.A. recovery. Those things said at meetings were a verbal form of literature. All they had to do was faithfully write it down to the satisfaction of the clean addicts in N.A.

They hoped the Basic Text would pull the whole Fellowship together. All the members who showed up to help would be welcomed. Even though some would expect to be rigidly qualified and ranked according to clean time and ability, all members would be welcomed and allowed to participate to any extent they wished. Trust and the natural process would place them where they could best serve. Greg and Bo were experienced enough at working with ideas and people to know that there is never just one way. Flexibility was the key. Staying open to the membership and keying everything into their likes and dislikes on a feeling level would allow the work to bring to light the real principles of actual N.A. recovery. The work had to go beyond being a conglomeration of good ideas unsupported by members experience and real application.

Local working groups would be formed to originate and go over the material. Greg and Bo's technical and feeling minds were activated. The ideas came in rushes spilling over into other clearly defined sequences of likelihood. The spirit was with them. It took great restraint, discipline, faith, courage and trust to follow this inspiration with consistent action and not get sidetracked or bogged down in details.

When Bo left for home, the biggest question in his mind was will this turn out to be like the other great ideas I've wasted all my life seeking and talking about. He thought about his former girl friend Susan who was the first of his near and dears to die shooting dope. He thought of his own lost years. He thought of the faces of newcomers in his life and their chances for lasting recovery in N.A. He hoped this dream would come true for himself and many others.



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dalin
02-20-2008, 05:10 PM
Chapter Four

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

On the flight home from Los Angeles, many thoughts passed through Bo's mind. He thought of his new friends clean in N.A. Although A.A. had been around for a long time, N.A. was just getting started. To a great extent, N.A. rode on A.A.'s good name and good record for successfully helping alcoholics.

The N.A.'s were as loving and as caring as A.A.'s and their experience with living clean was increasing at a terrific rate. This is one reason why many members like Bo traveled: to bring home answers from the greater N.A. Fellowship.

This trip had been rich in information gathering. There weren't many questions unanswered for the present. As Chair of the World Service Board, Greg had answered every conceivable question Bo had been able to verbalize. Noticeably, Greg had not stuck on answering any question. He had held nothing back. With his street instincts still intact, this was the thing that allowed Bo to trust him and everything he had said. On some questions Greg admitted that no one knew. Even this helped Bo to trust.

It was obvious that while the N.A. program of recovery was working for Bo and quite a few others, over fifteen hundred had showed up for the San Francisco World Convention, there was a lot of basic work to be done if the needs of the growing Fellowship were going to be met.

This didn't sadden Bo. He had gone to California expecting to hear a name of someone who was working, perhaps without much support, to get a book for N.A. Instead, he had found that there was no one anywhere doing the work. The old-timers were caught up in self depreciation and anonymity. They were convinced that the Book would come from the Fellowship. Bo knew the Fellowship was expecting the work to come from the esteemed N.A. old-timers who had been clean ten or twenty years. This was the impasse. It was classic. Everybody was waiting on somebody else to do the work. It took a real nobody to get the ball rolling!

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

It is so easy to get cut off from the world when you're using. It is the way the disease of addiction works. Let's have fun. Your best friend just died. Let's have fun. Your teeth just fell out. Let's have fun. The cops are after you. Let's have fun. You're dead.

In recovery, clean addicts re-approach the world and go through a lot of changes getting back in touch with the world. This is why Bo wasn't dismayed by what he had found. It fit in with everything else he had learned about life and N.A.

He had learned that there were a lot of meetings. A few hundred spread out over the United States. There was a lot of enthusiasm and spirit. If the WSO were so small that it fit into the side room of a man's house, it was easier to accept that the story he had sent in July had either gotten lost or been placed in a special place.

He had expected to get a written thank you. The non-response was one of the reasons he had come to California to get some answers. He couldn't afford the trip financially and couldn't avoid it spiritually.

He was living in a house rented to him by his Uncle Joe with his wife Judy and is two-year old son Victor. He painted signs for people out of his basement. It wasn't much of a living but he got by. His Uncle was willing to sell him the house but they had never signed papers. He had a real estate license but was painting until he got enough money stored up to go into real estate. His standard of living didn't include trips to the West Coast.

His obsessive desire to know more about N.A. had led him to rant and rave in the meetings, "Who's working on our Book? There are books on after dinner gardening! There are books on manure! Why isn't there a book on N.A. recovery?" No one had any answers. Even Tommy B. who had gotten involved with world services and attended the World Service Conference had been unable to answer his questions. Tommy had actually made his air line reservation for the World Convention.

Another friend, a recovering addict doctor named Dr. Bill M. had been in Los Angeles for a doctor's conference of some sort and had tried to contact the WSO the spring of '77. He had to leave a lot of messages and succeeded in going to the Office only after great difficulty. He had brought Bo a tape of the twentieth anniversary celebration among a small group of members in Los Angeles. When Bo asked about the Book, Dr. Bill told him, "If you want that book, you had better write it yourself! The people I met are not going to do it."

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

On his return, he told his wife what he had learned. He told her that Greg had encouraged him to write up anything he could to help, that there was no one else working on it and that it would not be self will. This was important to keep Bo from feeling like he was 'on his own'. It felt right to him.

His wife was quietly excited. She believed in her husband and supported his effort totally. She was a fairly quiet country girl who had grown up in the house across the street from where Bo had been living for a couple of years. She had been a friend of his ex-wife Alicia from the Okeefenokee Swamp in South Georgia.

When Alicia had gone her way, and the divorce was final, Judy came over to visit a few times and after a ten month courtship, they got married.

Bo had been going to meetings for a while and some of the benefits of recovery were beginning to shine through for him. The most spectacular was the birth of his son Victor.

On the kitchen table, Bo started writing on a variety of subjects in a spiral bound notebook. One idea led to another. On April 24, 1977 he had written some notes exploring the idea of a book for N.A.

The original list of possible book chapters was:

1. Addiction

2. Help Is Possible

3. Something Works (Steps)

4. The Wreckage of Our Past

5. Reaching Out

6. Spiritual Awakening

7. Action

8. The World

9. A New Life

10. Others

11. Member of Society

12. A Spiritual Program

Stories

This was written months before attending the World Convention in San Francisco and meeting Greg. He had done it as a lark, to see what it felt like. Now, he felt free to take it a step farther.

He would write on each chapter title until it felt reasonably complete and move on to the next one. Eventually, he had about sixty pages of text material and another bunch of thirty or forty pages of general material.

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

As was his custom, he was attending seven recovery meetings or more a week. He also attended meetings of the Atlanta Area Service Committee that met around town. There were still only eight or nine meetings in metro Atlanta. And in the State. And in the South. Still, Bo believed that the principles were sound and that the writing he was helping to start would lead to a greater awareness of N.A. recovery and growth of the Fellowship.

His years on the Strip in Atlanta had taught him to the extreme the futility of making a big noise without having something to back it up. All the noise would eliminate future ability to gain people's attention if they found out you really had nothing to say. The thing was to break up this idea that addicts couldn't write and the best way of doing that was for a clean addict in N.A. to write!

Frank B., one of the state vocation rehabilitation counselors who had been willing to get involved with the nonprofit work on the Strip, had told him that to measure a man by his reputation, you had to divide whatever you heard by ten. This applied to the good as well as the bad. By the time the Fellowship got around to checking out work on the Basic Text, he wanted at least a hundred pages to show people. At least his efforts could motivate others to do better than he had been able to do. All he wanted was to get something started. If the Fellowship found a hundred pages, they would be able to envision a thousand.

A member of A.A. made one thing clear. He had attended a meeting of N.A. in 1971 when the Strip was dying out and Bo had first sought help in N.A. When he heard about the work on a book for N.A., he said all you had to do was to tell the truth. If you honestly write down what you have experienced in N.A. and your honest feelings, no one in the world can argue with you successfully. If you waste time in conjecture, almost anyone can pick your material to pieces. These comments were answers to the prayers Bo was making throughout each day. He prayed for God to strengthen him and guide him in His will. He still went to the mountain on the full moon.

Local members were aware of his work and Bo would talk freely about it and how it was progressing. He encouraged others to work up material themselves. He told them that any member was welcome and encouraged to do so. He shared what Greg had shared with him. That summer, Greg had to attend a meeting of the National Institute on Drugs and Alcohol Council in Washington, D.C. He somehow managed to add a little to his air fare and stop off in Atlanta on his way back to North Hollywood. He shared his story at a N.A. meeting that was held at the Clubhouse of the Rising Sun in Marietta. He stayed with Bo and Judy and looked over the parts of the material written since Bo had last sent copies out to him at his home.

The material was rough but Greg encouraged him to keep on with it, not to give up. On the way home from a meeting, Bo shared with Greg that he had to let go of outcomes and that he avoided thinking ahead to what the work might mean to all the suffering addicts in the world. He thanked him for his support and for making the effort a 'we' thing and not something to feed his ego. They held hands tightly for a moment and thought about all the dead addicts they had known. Both men were educated to the helplessness of being an addict in a world without recovery. It was important not to be alone with this work.

He started carrying his notebook with him to meetings and to a coffee shop in downtown Atlanta. The pages filled. When he counted forty pages of handwritten material, he said to himself, "Well, I must be serious about this." He when to a local Zayre's store and bought a fifty dollar Smith Corona portable typewriter. It had a light blue cover of tinker toy plastic and the print line wavered up and down but it was a lot better than his handwriting!

He began by typing up the first forty pages from his notebook. He noticed that he was adding things as he went and the writing went better on the type writer. The ideas seem more clear.

One of his notes read: "How can an addict, convinced of his own lack of power, reluctant to expose himself to the ridicule of imaginary persons who might criticize his effort to help others, ever get around to the old pen and paper? It has just struck me that so far my efforts have only been like a quiet meeting with myself where I write down the best I have heard and the best that has come to me. Surely my higher power, the editor, will save me from any flaws too tragic."

He would deliberately goad himself to greater efforts. He began to feel more selfish doing nothing than when he gave the little he had to offer. He prayed and searched his heart for things to do to make himself fearless and selfless. After a time, he started going to the top of a beautiful small mountain nearby on the full moon and taking his shirt off, yelling at the western sky, "Oh, Great Spirit, grant us our Book!" He did this every full moon for five years, until the Book was done. It had come to him that this simple mechanism had the power to let him know that he was appealing to God for help with the work in no uncertain terms.

He prayed a lot anyway. Like many members, he had no clear idea of God in the beginning. He had instead a lot of generalizations about God. Mainly, in the beginning, N.A.'s stay clean on the strength of their first step, which is a simple admission of powerlessness over their addiction and the unmanageability it brought into their lives. Any newcomer could relate to those two and if addiction was the problem, clean addicts had to have the answer.

As a member, Bo had the right to choose any higher power he wanted, even one that might seem silly or nonsensical to other people. So he did. He felt that calling his higher power the Great Spirit was least ambiguous. That most of the people he met knew right away what he meant and how he felt. He meant the God of the Native Americans as portrayed in the popular imagination.

Later, on a long walk in the Great Smoky Mountains, he came to the realization that he would surrender instantly and happily to the spirit of greatness where ever he encountered it. In a thing of beauty, in a person, in an idea, in a thought of God. If Bo had to surrender to anything in this world, he wanted it to be great.

This spirit was, he believed, in every living thing and was the same age in people from infancy to senility. The ability to speak directly to this spirit in people was something he had picked up as a kid. He was one of those people who would be talking with someone and they would stop and say, "I've never told anyone else this before!"

One of the ideas he had picked up from his Beatnik days was that for the world to be right, it would have to be stood on its head. This had seemed like a weird sort of humor when he had first read it, years ago. Now it seemed like that is what the Program made possible: a total reevaluation of every act, memory and expectation.

At the end of his dope shooting days on August 2, 1969, when he was almost totally incapacitated by the LSD and crystal methedrine he had been shooting up, he wrote the following lines:

"My head was full of thoughts as I lay in bed. It seemed better to capture them than to let them fly into the night. Last fall I literally tore my life to shreds. My mind and my heart were pledged to the good of mankind and I foolishly cast my fate to the uncaring winds. The hippy movement, growing out of the beat scene and the romantic fascination that it held for young people in the fifties had become my life. In it I was able to find and imagine hope for a positive turning point in the history of mankind. I worked hard at a job I loved and lived a life isolated from the everyday life of Atlanta. I was stoned on acid and grass nearly all the time and most all of my friends were as well. Our house was filled with laughter and rock music and it seemed that surely people so happy and filled with love would take over the world some day. The common factor seemed to be drugs; and of the drugs acid was held highest. I was inspired to talk at length of the life we shared and the places it would take us. It seemed as if we were no longer human in the earth- founded sense of the word but some newly awakened being evolved from the trees by technology and acid into a state of awareness that made us all brothers and sisters sharing a common life force faced with extinction if mankind was allowed to blunder into warfare and an eternity of peace and grace if we stripped our- selves of these self-defeating survivals of our past. The victory of our way of life seemed almost a foregone conclusion and therefore we were unaggressive and condescending to others outside the scene sure that for each unsmiling cop and redneck there would be a glorious awakening when they would realize what fools they had been and join our ranks with serene, knowing faces and alert, tingling minds and bodies."

"Now it seems that all our hopes were purest vanity and all our dreams unmitigated foolishness. It is as if our culture sprang from a net of sub-surface life into a glorious hillside of toadstools and after a brief time in the sun sank into an ugly morass of decaying fungus. Most of the acid heads I am close to either kept far enough back from the scene to return to ordinary life or moved into experimentation with harder drugs. I remember when people around me began to call acid dope and I was incredulous because the effect I sought was at that time far from anything dopey. The routes from grass and acid are two: one is the intent, dispassionate, insect activity of the speed freak and the cool dreamy whatthehell world of opiates. Most people who take these feel they have little to live for."

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

On an average Saturday he would get five type written pages towards the Book. He still talked about it in meetings and though skeptical, his fellow members were kind and patient. It did un- nerve them a little to look at the material. It had been so long that N.A. existed with no Book. Dope addicts talked about doing things but what was this real writing in front of them. It was things said and heard in meetings. Things they were used to taking for granted. Bo encouraged the doubtful to do some writing themselves. He stayed in touch with Greg who was constant in his support of his efforts. Every few months, Bo would send him another ten or twenty pages until it came time for the World Convention again, this time in Houston, Texas.



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